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Im *wheezing,* im glad you liked it

Nightmare Academia P.24 | Spencer Reid x Reader

♥ Summary: In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, Spencer fucks up lol. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: broken ribs & hospitals, i cannot rmr what else so if there is something lmk.

♥ A/N: this has been in my drafts for. a while. also it is fucking Hilarious that this is part 24 for uhhhh reasons

♥ Word Count: 1690 (lol)

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

Spencer fucked up.

He was incredibly aware of that as pain shot across each and every nerve that just happened to end near his ribs. A sickening crack echoed through the air. Before that moment, Spencer wasn’t aware that failure had a sound effect. In the years following this incident, fucking up would always sound like the crack of a rib.

To the doctor’s credit, he’d done his best. He’d failed, yeah, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. He had genuinely done everything in his power to make a good, clean, murder-free arrest. He’d done his best to come out the other side of it unharmed. He’d tried to be a man of his word, to be someone you could respect- but of the two things you’d asked him to do, Spencer could only do one. But hey, the good news was he’d maintained your respect for him. Nobody died! Yay!

Still, success wasn’t enough to fix Spencer’s definitely broken ribs. Everything in him ached as he wrapped a pair of handcuffs around a pair of wrists. His body fought to falter, his chest spasming in agony as Frank’s assailant was taken into custody.

The BAU would soon learn that the assaiilant’s name was Michael. He had a tragic past, a thoroughly upsetting present, and an uncertain future. He’d hurt your friend, and he was going to live to face the consequences of his actions. Maybe he’d grow. Maybe he’d become a better man. Whatever happened next, Michael would be there to see it because of Spencer- and because of you.

In return, Michael had gifted Spencer a chest full of broken bones.

Oops.

In defence of Spencer: he did not see that filing cabinet, okay? He did not realize there was a rib-height filing cabinet that someone could easily shove him into (multiple times) that would crack his ribs like they were goddamned glow sticks. He was focused on doing his job, he didn’t think a filing cabinet of all things was gonna be an issue.

But it was. And he got hurt. And all he could think about as his body fractured between the metal of the cabinet and the arms of his assailant was you. Your face. Your voice. The way that you asked him to come back okay. The way that he’d failed you.

His body ran on adrenaline alone as he fought against the soon-to-be-named assailant. He was on autopilot as he read the man his rights. As soon as someone else came through the door, Spencer collapsed to his knees.

You knew something was deeply fucking wrong. It was almost like a sixth sense- a deep connection with the universe, or a gut instinct, or a telepathic connection to ghosts or some other adjacent bullshit. Whatever the fuck it was, it was screaming that something was deeply, terribly wrong.

It didn’t stop screaming until Spencer came back. Then, it fell silent.

Oddly enough, you preferred the screams. The screams told you something was happening. The screams gave you some insight. Without the screaming of some internal device, you were lost.

You only caught glimpses as doctors and nurses rushed Spencer through the hospital, trying to hide their initial shock at the sight of the injured Fed.

Medical professionals muttered complicated medical jargon as they passed by you. They murmured about cracked bones and painkillers in otherwise vacant hallways. It felt like they were shouting in the silence that occupied your suddenly vacant mind. Through no fault of their own, those voices would echo in your nightmares.

Seven cracked ribs. One fractured. Black and purple bruises covered every inch Spencer’s chest. He had refused narcotics.

By the time they let you see him, Spencer was already dead asleep. (Cracking a chest full of ribs is enough to exhaust anyone.) You still attached yourself to his side. You stayed with him after everyone else left, retreating to hotel and hospital rooms alike. You simply refused to move. You couldn’t move. You were frozen in place, held down by stupid fucking broken promises.

It wasn’t like you could have gone anywhere, anyway. You were too wrecked to drive home and too shaken to sleep. The rest of the world had faded until it was little more than white noise, static behind the voices of a radio broadcast. Your friends left you alone. His team left you alone. And you stayed where you needed to be. With him.

His eyelids fluttered as he slept. You watched as his slender fingers twitched against the sterile white sheets. In the low light of the hospital room, his skin took on an almost sickly hue. You traced the deep blue lines of his veins, following them as they stretched down his arms and across the backs of his hands.

“Dr. (L//N)?”

Hotchner’s voice was gentle, his quiet tone blending into the near silence that surrounded you. It was still enough to make you jump.

“Agent Hotchner, I- uh,” you scrambled to find something to say as you searched the man’s face for something. All you found was mild concern and a lack of anything worth saying, “Jesus Christ, words are hard.”

A polite smile crossed the man’s face, “It is late. You’ve had a long day. It might help if you get some rest.”

“You’re probably right,” you turned away from him to face Spencer again, “You’re definitely right. You know, if Spencer was awake right now, he’d probably say something about, I don’t know, how many hours of sleep you have to miss to immediately die.”

“He would, but it would be hypocritical of him.” You nodded, and the conversation came to a natural lull as the two of you watched Spencer’s chest rise and fall.

“Are you gonna tell me to go home?”

Hotchner didn’t answer for a moment. Instead, he crossed the room, placing a hand on the back of your chair, “No. I’m just going to tell you that you need some rest.”

You could hear a faint beeping from somewhere down the hall, “I can’t just leave him. I can’t, I-”

“Hey,” Hotch’s tone somehow got even softer, “Reid is going to be okay. He’s strong enough to get through this. I promise.”

“Are you sure?” you hated how much you sounded like a child, but the words spilled out of your mouth without your permission. You were tired and you were scared, and it didn’t take a profiler to see that. The evidence was clear to anyone who bothered to listen to your voice, or to watch the way your hands traced over the pulse point in Spencer’s wrist.

“I’m sure. He’s…” Hotchner paused, hesitating as if he was unsure of whether or not he wanted to share something with you, “I’ll be honest. He’s been through worse than this.”

“Yeah, he uh- he mentioned that he’s been shot three times? And that he died once. And he got stabbed in my office one time,” you continued, not noticing the surprise on Hotchner’s face, “So I’m sure you’re right. This is just broken ribs, it’s probably a small thing for him, but this is…”

Hotchner waited for a moment, patient as ever as he watched tears line your eyes, “What is it?”

“This is the second time he’s gotten hurt because of me. If I’d never asked him to take this case, I-”

“If you never asked him to take this case, an innocent man would have gone to prison and we would have missed a possible lead on an ongoing federal case. You did the right thing, and Reid knows that.”

You couldn’t come up with a reasonable response to that. You just let out a soft, neutral sound. You were far too tired for anything else.

“You should get some rest. You don’t have to leave, but you do need to sleep.”

You took a shaky breath. The sanitized hospital air seemed to burn inside your lungs. Without thinking, you reached out to take Spencer’s hand in yours.

“Tell me to let him sleep,” your voice shook, threatening to break, “I know- I know he needs to rest, and I know I should go, but… I just want to wake him up. I have to see that he’s okay. I want him to tell me everything is going to be fine. I need to hear it from him.”

“I understand,” Hotch lowered himself until he was crouched down beside your chair, “But when he wakes up, the first thing you’ll hear from him is how much you need to sleep.”

Hotch was absolutely right, but you couldn't tear your eyes from Spencer. You couldn’t stop thinking about how absolutely fucked everything was. You couldn’t quell your own desperation, your need to hear Spencer’s voice telling you that he was fine, and that only the tiniest percentage of rib-related injuries were fatal.

You also needed him to know-

“I need him to know I don’t hate him,” you whimpered, “I think he knows, but I need to tell him. I need him to hear it. I don’t hate him.”

“Hey,” you felt a hand on your shoulder as you lost yourself in sobs, “He knows. I promise, he knows.”

Vision blurred by tears, you didn’t notice Hotchner leave. You didn’t notice his return, either. You just knew that one minute, there was no small cot in the room and the next minute, there was. You let Hotchner help you up. You think you may have thanked him.

As he left you fell asleep. You wondered if sleeping felt anything like dying. If death was anything like rest. You were out before you could come to a conclusion.

Several hours earlier, Spencer winced as he woke up to the god-awful buzzing of those ass shitting mother fucking goddamned stupid fluorescents. He really couldn’t stand those things. The bright white light they provided shone through Spencer’s fucking eyelids, literal torture to his already throbbing head.

He could hear a familiar voice calling for a nurse. Without a second thought, without opening his eyes, he called out into the room.

“I messed up, Hotch.”

"That's one way to put it."

His eyes shot open. That was not Aaron Hotchner's voice.

"Good morning, motherfucker. How're the ribs?" you smirked at Spencer over the rim of your paper coffee cup. Your snark was a poor disguise for the exhaustion you so clearly felt. The bags beneath your eyes, the way you slouched in the chair- it made Spencer's heart ache. But you were there.

"Hi."

Your body relaxed at the sound of his voice, rough and tired as it was.

"Hey, Spence."

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, @ghostatrixx, @reiding-writing, @mywellspringoflife, @80katie, @ms-ks-world, @logicalhorror, @mindfullycriminal, @dude-were-getting-the-band-back, @grapejuiceforh, @yondiii, @dragonofthemoonlight if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, i am deeply sorry it has been a whole minute!! if you would like to be tagged and aren't, also let me know!! no clue how many more chapters im gonna do atp, but i am at a point in my life where im desperate for hijinks so who the hell knows

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