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softtdaisy · 19 days ago

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hii !! Could I request something for Spencer where the reader gets shot in the neck instead of Spencer?

_______before it's too late

pairing. spencer reid x reader

summary. when spencer's protectiveness puts you in danger, he realised the reason why he can't handle losing you

words count. 2 455

what to expect. reader gets hurt, most of the story happens at the hospital

a/n. this was such a nice request i loved writing this story!! thank you so much for requesting it, i hope you'll love it 🤍

criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist| request

Spencer hated the sound.

Not any sound, actually. He loved the morning sound when the silence of his room was slowly replaced by the city’s noises. The cars outside, the incomprehensible conversation under his window, or his neighbor’s radio playing too loud. It wasn’t the best in the world, but it was proof for Spencer that he was alive.

He also loved the sound of coffee machines. His own at home—it made a distinctive noise he couldn’t understand, but he learned to love. And the one at the BAU. Because for the past two years, when he arrived in the morning and the coffee was flowing, it meant you were there.

Or maybe this last one was particular. Because now that he thought about it, Spencer loved many sounds related to you. The sound of your pen on paper or how you were hitting in a rhythm you could only hear in your head when you were thinking about work. The sound of your shoes on the desk’s floor that he could easily recognize every day. Or your laugh. Just…your laugh.

Yes. Spencer loved these sounds.

But he hated the ones invading his head right now.

The whistles in his ears after the gunshots didn’t seem to leave. The quick steps of the nurses running in the hospital’s corridor. The beeps of the machine that was keeping you alive.

The memory of your last conversation.

“You know what?” You turned around suddenly, making Spencer jump.

You’ve never been angry at him. You didn’t even show the slightest sign of disappointment in two years of working together. Not when he asked you to stay with him while he finished writing his case report, not when he froze in the middle of the field and you were the one in charge of the unsub. Not when he protected you and almost took a bullet for you—he really thought you would get angry and thought he saw you as some damsel in distress.

But maybe he should have expected that one.

Locking you both in an office to not go on the field wasn’t his brightest move.

He had watched you take the 367 steps around the room until now. And he watched as you took eight more to face him. Your finger pointed at him, with your tips hitting his chest.

“Fuck you, Spencer.”

The team had been in Montana for the past week, dealing with a quite difficult case. The number of murders kept growing, and they couldn’t find the right lead to catch the unsub. They were all getting more worn out and angrier every day at their incapacity to find him.

Spencer had seen Emily biting her nails again, Rossi insulting an officer in Italian, or noticed JJ’s red eyes earlier. Without talking about you and the sleepless nights you were making a string of. You’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder more than once these past days.

So when he heard Hotch say some of the team would go on the field to follow a lead, Spencer couldn’t hear his professional and rational voice. His heart was speaking louder than anything. It wasn’t until he told Hotch you would stay here to collect information and then asked you to follow him to an office that he realized it wasn’t fair to prevent you from doing your job just because he was the one scared for you.

“You have no right deciding whether I should go outside with the team or not,” you pushed him fiercely. “This is my job, Spencer! You do whatever you want, but you have no right to my actions.”

He knew your reaction was caused by the lack of sleep and the accumulation of stress. That you would never in any normal situation complain this hard about that. More than that, you wouldn’t try to hurt Spencer with your words.

Now he had to hear you mumble about him being unfair and delusional, that he wasn’t allowed to trap you here because he was nothing but a coworker. Which wasn’t true, right? You were his friend, and he knew he was yours. He had to hold on to this thought to not let your sharp words harm him more.

But at some point, he just couldn’t handle it anymore. “Could you please just stop? You’re being annoying,” he sighed, sitting on the sheriff's couch. He extended his hand, and like the last ray of sunshine outside knew about it, the key on his palm started to shine. “You want to get yourself killed outside? Go. Be my guest.”

He kept his eyes on you. To his biggest surprise, you didn’t rush to grab the key at first. You looked at him with surprise and something indescribable. Like for the very first time, you saw him in a different way.

“But don’t complain if anything happens to you,” he added. That was the last straw.

You scoffed, snatching the key from his hand.

“I hate you.”

That was the last thing you said before walking away and leaving him alone in the office.

“Do we have some news?”

“She hasn’t woken up yet.”

Spencer could hear JJ and Rossi talking. He didn’t need some super auditive power. He was literally sitting on the floor, right under them. He wasn’t even sure they had noticed him. He had been there for hours, sitting at the very same spot, his head close to creating a hole in the wall from banging against it.

After you left the room, you called Hotch to join him, Emily, and Derek on the field. More than just the need to participate and help them solve the case quicker, there was this bittersweet grudge to prove to Spencer that you didn’t need to be protected.

You were so preoccupied by the anger of feeling trapped that you couldn’t see the good intentions behind it.

Spencer was so preoccupied by the fear of losing you he couldn’t see the bad interpretation of his gesture.

And so, you were outside while he was looking for information with Penelope and Rossi.

Rossi was on the phone with Hotch when the worst happened.

The unsub was there. And he shot the first person he saw.

You.

“Agent down!” was all Hotch was repeating, forgetting he was even on the phone in the first place.

If Penelope started to panic immediately, Spencer completely zoned out.

He couldn’t lose Emily again. He couldn’t lose Derek; he was his brother.

He couldn’t lose you. He loved you.

That was the moment it hit him. How much he actually loved you.

“Who’s hurt, Aaron? Aaron!” Rossi yelled at the phone. It took him a few more yells to finally get an answer. One that everyone heard—he was on speaker.

As soon as Spencer heard your name, his world seemed to crumble around him. He couldn’t ever hear the other calling him. His whole life was turned down to silent, except for the moment Hotch said, You got shot. That was all he heard the whole way to the hospital. Your name, again and again. And the distress in his voice when he said it.

He was the first to arrive. How ironic Spencer has been there before you. When you were the one who needed to be transported quickly.

The vision of your body lying on the stretcher would forever be inked in his mind. Unconscious, with a big bandage on your neck with some blood stained on it. You looked lifeless. And suddenly, Spencer felt like his life could lose all its meaning too.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything, Spence?”

He blinked once, twice, thrice, until JJ’s figure appeared clearer to him. He didn’t appreciate her concerned expression. Not because she shouldn’t be; everybody was stressed about you. But because he could tell that right now, a part of her concern was focused on him. And he didn’t deserve any of it.

“I want her to wake up.” His voice was almost inaudible. He felt like he had no right hoping for your safety too.

Because if he was asked, Spence would say it was his fault. It was his fault for making you angry when you were already tired and weaker, like everybody else. It was his fault for putting a new energy in your head when you should focus on the case only. It was his fault for thinking he could save you when it wasn’t his job.

It was his fault for falling in love with you when you were looking for a friend, not a lover.

He closed his eyes for a second when JJ patted his hair softly to say goodbye.

One by one, the team left—they still had a case to resolve. Leaving only Spencer with you, knowing he wouldn’t go back to the hotel until you opened an eye. Knowing damn well he wouldn’t be useful until you woke up.

He couldn’t even sleep. It was impossible for him to put his eyes away from you, looking for the slightest move. A sign from you that would bring him back to life. Oh, what he would do to listen to your laugh, to hear one of your comments on his messy hair, or simply to see your smile. You always smiled. He needed you to smile right now.

He had been there for hours when it finally happened.

“Oh, fuck,” you mumbled, feeling like waking up from a coma that lasted for too many days. You could barely open your eyes; swallowing your own saliva was hard, and you felt trapped with your big bandage—that you remember.

It took you a moment to finally keep your eyes open long enough to have a clear view of the hospital room: the window on your right, the switched-off TV in front of you, and Spencer on the floor on your left.

“Spence?” His name sounded like a pleading. It was.

You had no memory of your dreams these past hours, but you knew one thing for sure: Spencer was in there. His pretty face, his pretty smile, his pretty lips on yours. Oh, you could cry from the thought of his mouth on your skin.

You couldn’t properly turn your head to look at him. But Spencer was quick to jump on his feet to join you on your bed.

“Oh, you look miserable,” you joked when he finally sat and grabbed your hand. A laugh that caused some pain in your neck. But you couldn’t care less. Nothing would hurt more than getting shot there.

Nothing would hurt more than the fear of losing Spencer Reid.

“You don’t look that good either,” he replied with a short laugh. His red eyes were betraying him. Spencer didn’t actually realize he had been crying these past hours until now. “You’re alive.”

Slowly, you brought his hand to your face. You needed to cuddle against it, to feel his skin, his touch. Ever since you started working at the BAU, you noticed that one of the things that helped you keep your feet on the ground and remind you that you were alive was Spencer.

Spencer and his happy smile when he was telling you about all his scientific facts. Spencer and his confused frown at some of your pop culture references. Spencer and his precious touch when you felt stressed about a situation.

Spencer, in his entirety.

He was quick at opening his palm, knowing what you were looking for. His thumb was brushing your cheek softly—something he needed to do. Touching you, knowing you were alive.

“You’re not getting rid of me like that,” you replied with a giggle. One he shared. One that made him shed a tear again.

There were so many things going on in his head. So many thoughts mixing up.

Sorry for trying to trap you earlier. Sorry for saying you shouldn’t complain if something happens. Sorry for reacting like I did. Sorry for being scared to lose you. Sorry for making you angry. Sorry for putting you in danger.

Instead, all that came out of his mouth was “I love you.” Three simple words.

“You said I had no right to your actions, and you’re right. But I refuse to risk losing you. I should have said it before, but I think today made me open my eyes. I love you. I love you so much“.

You listened to him, your hand glided from his to his arm, caressing it with a weak movement. It was almost too much for you considering your state. But you couldn’t resist touching him. Especially not now.

Once during a flight after a rough case, you were doing the same thing. Mostly for you, you felt the need to have Spencer close to you. He was your anchor that day more than ever. At some point during the flight, you accidentally let your hand slip underneath his sleeve. Since Spencer didn’t mind—still reading his book like nothing happened—you kept your hand there.

That was exactly what you did now. Wrapping your fingers around his wrist.

“You’re lucky I love you too, then, I guess.” You smiled, tilting your head to the side.

Not thinking about the bullet that was on your neck a few hours ago and forgetting about the pain any movement could cause you. So you grimaced again.

“I feel so bad about what happened, do you…”

“How about we don’t talk about this?” You interrupted him. You moved slightly, probably not enough to fit Spencer’s body next to you. But it wasn’t going to stop you. “Come here, I need you closer.”

Nor him, actually.

Spencer ended up sitting behind you, moving you with such precaution and care you felt like a doll. A very broken doll right now, but still a doll. He made sure your neck wasn’t hurting in this position, with your head falling on his chest. He knew this wouldn’t last; if the nurses saw you, they would immediately ask him to move so you could rest properly.

But for a few minutes, it was perfect. His lips on your hair, your hand caressing his leg. Both of your breathing were synchronized.

“Actually, no.” You whispered in a voice that already sounded sleepy. “Don’t ever try to trap me, Spencer.”

“I…” he started, but you shut him up with a pat on the thigh.

“Unless it’s to make love to me.”

Spencer choked on his own saliva, which made you giggle against him.

“Too early?” You laughed, turning your head to watch his face.

“Sleep,” he replied, still trying to catch his breath. Before giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. Something you both could get used to.

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