#criminalmindsangst

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Nobody: Spencer Reid

Summary: After an accident on a case, the reader is left with trauma and anxiety. A miscommunication between her and the person she needs most (Spencer Reid) begins to eat her alive and he just so happens to be the only one there when she breaks again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: mentions of kissing, mentions of traumatizing events (not specified), depictions of anxiety, fluff, miscommunication, angst to fluff

A/N: The song is Nobody by Mitski. Read with this for the ultimate experience.

Sometimes things felt too literal. Words start to sound weird and feel weird when you say them, clothes feel too much like clothes against your skin, the texture of any food in your mouth becomes too prevalent while eating.

These things started happening after you witnessed and endured something awful on a case. You wouldn't dare bring up the full memory in case it took over and killed you all over again. It wasn't PTSD, but it was the cause of your anxiety attacks most of the time when they occurred.

After that case, you spent a week in the hospital where they happened nearly every day and the doctors weren't much help, to be frank. The only people who really ever helped were your friends and the person you were so close to dating, Spencer Reid.

It was a long story. To dumb it down, the case event happened and you and Spencer thought you were about to die so he confessed his feelings for you and of course they were reciprocated. He asked, then and there through stuttering words, 'If we make it out of here please go out with me?" As his last bit of hope, and he kissed you before you were taken away by the unsub. He didn't endure nearly as much as you did which was why he wasn't as affected. But you had said 'yes' to that question and three weeks later, you still hadn't talked about it.

When the anxiety attacks happened, you often felt like you couldn't breathe, like the walls were pressing in on you. Sometimes you'd be with JJ when it happened. She would immediately ask you what you needed and often that would just be a hug.

Emily witnessed one at your house when she came over to check on you. She rushed over, caring voice and soft hands and told you to put your head between your knees, stroking your hair until you felt better.

Penelope made the 30-minute drive from her house every Friday night she wasn't working on a case to bring you dinner she had made and chat with you about anything you wanted.

Your friends cared for you, it was so prevalent. It was almost always that fact that was getting you through this as you continued to get better. You would return to work in two weeks because now the anxiety attacks were only once in a while and better controlled by you and Spencer still hadn't spoken to you since.

It was now nearly two weeks later. You would go back to work on Monday.

"He did come to visit you in the hospital before you woke up," Penelope said, stirring her cup of ramen. It was just another Friday and she sat across from you in your chair, cross-legged. "I don't know what's up with him if he isn't speaking to you, he seems fine at work."

You sighed, swallowing your bite. "I'm just scared that he regrets what he said and did before I was dragged away. It was those words and that kiss that got me through what the unsub did and I keep thinking about it and him..."

"It was romantic," she noted, waving her chopstick in the air. "I think you should call him, rather than just text him. It'll catch him off-guard and in-the-moment."

"Now?"

"Yes, so I can listen!"

You smiled a little, pulling out your phone as your heart began to race. What if he did pick up? What if it was awkward? What if he somehow didn't remember?

You pressed on his name, then pressed call. It began to hum quietly with pending rings. One ring, two, then five, then seven, then there was a small beep.

'You've reached Dr. Spencer Reid, uh, leave a message,' his voice said through the machine, still as sweet and youthfully scratchy. You bit your lip and nodded.

"I should have known that he didn't want to talk. Penelope, I can't stop thinking about him and he keeps ignoring my calls and I'm... frankly I'm afraid that nothing will ever happen and he'll ignore me forever."

Penelope cringed, "(Y/N), uh... there's... it's gone to voicemail and you're recording."

"Shit!" You panicked, looking at your phone. "How do I stop it?!"

"The red button!"

"That's the end call button I-" you pressed it by accident. Oh my god, the message went through. You just sat there with Penelope, both of you frozen in shock. That did not just happen... did it really just happen? Your one moment of self-pity and worry was one moment that Spencer would hear if he touched his phone on a Friday night.

The rest of the night was spent with you fighting off panic, pacing your room. Penelope agreed to stay overnight, but you could not handle the fact Spencer would hear what you said. It was humiliating to think about him hearing you stress over something like that.

This is what nagged at you all weekend, threatening the impending anxiety that was building up. Every second was agony, spent pacing and overthinking. Sleep was hard to get, so you took melatonin and your dreams taunted you with it all over again.

Monday morning you rushed to get dressed. You needed to see Spencer, no matter how hard it was to face him. You pulled on dress pants and a navy blue cotton v-neck shirt with bell sleeves. Laundry was forgotten through two days of panic, so this was pretty much the only shirt you had.

You brushed through your hair and applied your regular makeup and there, you were presentable and didn't look like you'd lost your mind over the weekend. You were going back, finally. It was somewhat refreshing if you dismissed the Spencer ordeal.

The drive there was fine. Music helped to calm you down and you listened as long as you could. Stepping into the BAU was different, it felt like you were being crushed the moment you stepped in.

"There's my girl!" Derek Morgan was the first to notice you walk in and he greeted you with open arms and a crushing hug. You smiled, letting him. It had been a while since you last saw him. He let you go after a few seconds, but his hands stayed on your shoulders. "We missed you here, things weren't as fun without you."

"I bet," you grinned, heading to your desk. You could hide your freakout well. "I missed the smell of coffee and paper in the morning."

"(Y/N), glad to have you back," Hotch said, walking down the steps. He did seem honestly glad to see you as there was a small twitch of his mouth when he approached you and Derek. "You're sure you're alright to work again? I assume today is a file day, but we'll be back out there soon."

You nodded, smiling back. "Getting there, but it's controllable now," He narrowed his eyebrows. "I'll be fine for the field and if I'm not, I can always stay at the precinct to work things out there."

Hotch looked to Derek, then back at you. "Sounds good. Again, glad to have you back, agent." Hotch shook your hand and passed you, heading into JJ's office.

"Morgan..." You started, fiddling with your fingers. "Have you seen Spencer?"

"Yeah, he just went to the washroom, why?"

"I need to talk to him..."

The day went on and of course, you saw Spencer, but he paid you no mind. Not even a 'welcome back' or anything. You were just there and it was like you never left, except Spencer didn't even look at you. He was busy with his work and you constantly found yourself watching him. Maybe he'd heard your voice mail, maybe not, but either way, he didn't seem to care anymore.

That month and a half you spent recovering- was it possible that he used that time away from you to get over you? The idea was haunting and tugged at your heart. To be the only one all-in was such an incredibly painful idea. What he said before you were dragged away into the depths of hell meant something to you and it kept you alive... and to think he probably didn't mean it...

You needed to stop thinking about it before it made you burst into a million pieces. To be surrounded by everyone who you loved and loved you back wasn't enough if you couldn't have Spencer, too. Selfish, it sounded so selfish, but it shook you to the core that he wasn't amongst them.

The day continued and more pain was endured. More overthinking, more fear, more insecurity. The day was nearing its end.

Everybody seemed like nobody when Spencer was out of the picture. You had spent so much time thinking about him in the hospital and at home in recovery, who were you without wondering you could make it work? Nobody. Without the fantasy you could be his, you stranded on some sort of island. You were nobody if not Spencer's.

So you were nobody.

It was that thought that keeled you over the edge in the parking lot of the BAU. So much fear, so much pent-up emotion, it was too much to contain and just... spilled over onto everything as your hands began to shake, followed by that godawful feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your knees gave out and you fell conveniently onto the curb next to your car.

There was nobody there, either. You were alone on the concrete curb, face in your shaking hand and the other shaking hand gripping the curb so hard your knuckles turned white. Too much, too little, everything was wrong and you couldn't face Spencer.

You looked up for a brief moment and there was a brief look at someone in a beige cardigan and khaki pants and your heart fell to the pit of your stomach- as if you were humiliated enough. Footsteps, closer.

"A-are you okay?" His voice was a little panicked, definitely not as bad as yours, though. Overall, you were just glad he was within six feet of you.

Of course, you were pretty much unable to reply. Your face stayed in your hands and you felt light fingers on your shoulder, his, and they were somewhat grounding. God, he was here and you couldn't even talk to him, you couldn't even raise your head.

"What do you need, I- what happened?" He cared. But to what extent? His hands felt frantic- they shook a little (again, not nearly as bad as yours) and they moved from your shoulder, to upper arm, to near your neck, to the side of your head. "If this is my fault, I-"

He stopped himself. How could he possibly know that it was the thought of him that sent this into motion? The voicemail didn't entail much other than he was on your mind. You hardly even noticed that you were crying from the anxiety attack until you felt how wet your hands were. Your words kept piling on your tongue and the panic rose again in an entirely new wave.

"Do you- do you need help? I can get Hotch or... Derek, Derek knows, I know, but I don't- I don't think you like me very much and I won't be of help-I-I-I-" His voice continued to ramble and you were flooded with new thoughts. How could he possibly think that you didn't like him? In those moments before you were taken, you had said yes to going out with him if you both made it out. You kissed him back then before the arms grabbed you and dragged you off. Where did the idea of you not liking him come from? It was you who was afraid he didn't like you back.

You wanted to speak, you wanted to say something but you were stuck in your own mind, desperately trying to fight this off, trying hard to calm your breathing. The most you could do was take your hand off of the curb and frantically grab his. You took his hand and you held it tight, trying to slow the sharp intakes of breath. That's when Spencer squeezed your hand and you began to feel better.

And when you did start to feel better and your breathing was still harsh, but better and you could finally move a little more, you did what you had wanted to do every day in the hospital. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around Spencer, your arms resting around his shoulders. You needed it and apparently so did he, because he squeezed you back the same. Either it was that or he knew pressure helped. All you could do was hope it wasn't the latter.

Spencer of course buried his face in the crook of your neck like he had before and you knew now that this feeling was coming to an end. The tide was washing out and there was calm after the storm. No words, just your breathing becoming more natural and the wind over your ears. This was all that you needed.

He stayed like this with you for a good five more minutes before you could finally release him, pulling apart and your hand coming up to wipe under your eyes. He didn't speak then, either- he just watched, his face furrowed in concern.

So you spoke, "Spencer wh-" your voice cut out from still being in that state of anxiety. You coughed into your arm, tried again. "Why would you think I don't like you?"

"I-I- don't think that's the question, I- are you okay?" His hands went back to your shoulders bracingly.

You smiled a small smile, "I'm better, it's passed, but Spencer...' You slid into a whisper with the crying coming back. Had it really passed?

"Yes?" His reply was wary. As if afraid to break you, he tiptoed.

"Answer me, please."

He bit his lower lip into his mouth, sighing. "I don't know if I should, you're- you're upset."

You looked at him, dead-on, determined. "Please."

"You didn't call. Not once and I-I-I was worried and then I started to think about it and everything t-that happened before you were taken and that you probably only said and did that because you were about to-to-uh, die." He rambled, words spilling out. "So I thought maybe you didn't really like me and-"

"I was waiting for you to call, too," you actually let out a laugh. He smiled in realization. "Because I was afraid of the exact same thing. I was afraid you didn't mean it and I worked myself up- I called Friday night, though-"

"I didn't- I didn't know that-" he fumbled to bring his phone out of his pocket and he must have seen that he had a voicemail from you and nodded, a little smile appearing on his worried face. "So you did mean to say yes?"

"And you did mean to ask?" You inquired, head tilted.

"Y-yes, of course."

"Then yes," you replied, smile widening to a grin. "How is Saturday night? I think I'll be better by then."

He was positively beaming as he helped you back to your feet. "Saturday is... great. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Much better.... truthfully." You nodded excessively and Spencer began walking back to his car, but then came back quickly to kiss your cheek.

He was like a child excited to go run and tell friends, "Goodnight!"

"Night, Spence." You stood there, basking in the glory that was solved miscommunication. You weren't nobody, you were in fact, somebody. And you were soon to be Spencer's.

Tags: @ellyhotchner, @softhairedhotch, @laurakirsten0502

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Too Little Time: Spencer Reid

Summary: The reader is facing death because of an uncaught unsub and Spencer is the only person who can come to her aid. Spencer never liked her, but watching her die brings out a lot of things he never said.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: reader death, blood, sadness, angst, confession

A/N: The saddest shit you'll read today. Read with the song YKWIM by Yot Club on repeat for ULTIMATE SADNESS

Like fire through your body and soul, the pain ripped from your side like a tide flowing onto a beach, reaching out to the tips of your fingers and bouncing back again. You gasped, hands flying to where it hurt the most. White-hot, blinding pain searing through you, you stumbled backward into the wall.

The unsub got away. He was getting away, he ran west. It was only a matter of seconds until Derek Morgan busted into the room. You pointed West, but he didn't run. He was looking at you with a decision in his eyes.

"Run, Morgan!" You yelled, pain ripping through you again. Derek shut his eyes tight, then sprinted away. You pressed your hands to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding desperately.

The next in through the warehouse door was Spencer Reid. Of all people, it was Spencer Reid. Shock crossed his face and he immediately called for help both manually and through his wire before kneeling down next to you.

Spencer never really liked you. From the moment you joined the BAU, he had been cold and odd with you. He avoided working with you and you thought maybe it was because you two were so close in age and he felt like maybe it wasn't so special he was so young anymore. Or maybe it was because you might have said or done something wrong by accident and he never forgave you, no matter how many times you or any other member tried fixing it.

Despite him being cold, you had always liked him. His mannerisms, his rambles, him in general. He never cared for you, but that was alright. You could live with it.

So now your life was pretty much about to end with him next to you. He knelt down and took off his jacket. You were pretty sure this was everything coming together in an ironic ending. He saw the wound in your side and knew that his jacket wouldn't help, so he pressed his hands on it. Once again, pain like fire and ice hit and you bit your lip to stop from screaming.

"You'll- you'll be fine," he said quietly. "I called for help, how much does it hurt on a scale of one to ten?"

"Eleven," you sighed. There was no real point in anything now that you were on the edge of the end. No relationships, no friends outside of work, no children. "Just let me go, I'm done with all this."

Your vision was blurring and spotted, but you saw Spencer shake his head. "Please don't. You have to stay alive, you have to-to-to make it." He sounded panicked, but Spencer was still human, whether or not he liked you. You could hardly feel anything, but you could feel the violent shake of his fingers. "Think about Penelope and- and Emily. Don't leave them, please. Don't leave the team, don't- don't leave us."

"You won't have to work so hard to hate me, Reid." You tried to laugh but it hurt too much. It came out as one chuckle and a sharp intake of breath. "I won't be there to bother you anymore."

This stung him badly. You were lucky you were losing sight because the pain on his face would have added to yours. Perhaps, maybe in some other life, you could have gotten along. Maybe in the next, once you passed. "I-I-I- no, that's not what I want-" Spencer said, words stumbling over each other. You just smiled. "No! That's not- you don't need to die, I was... I was going to fix things, I-I-I was, just stay alive, please!" His voice cracked every few words.

Fix what? Fix his hatred for me? "You don't need to fix this, okay? I'm sorry for whatever I did and I just want you to know I don't resent you for it. We all have people we-" you coughed up blood and the panic rose again. "Spencer, I have to go this way. It's so much easier, just... let me go."

"No!" He said, words exasperated now. "How do I- if I never get to- don't... please don't go yet." He was crying. You could hear it. "Everyone needs you."

You took one of Spencer's hands off of your wound, both of your hands covered in blood and you held it with as much force as you could muster. "I need you to tell these things to the team, please, okay?"

"You're n-not dying!" Spencer was nearly shouting and his head swivelled for the medics who were supposed to save you. "I won't... please just listen to me-"

"You listen to me!" You wheezed, voice lowering back into a whisper. "I need you to tell Penelope that she's my best friend and that I love her so so much and-and-" you coughed up blood again, spitting it to the side. "Tell Emily that she's the strongest most powerful woman I know and that I love her too. And tell Derek that it's not his fault and that he needs to keep fighting. T-tell JJ to keep Henry growing strong and that I love her too. Tell Hotch and Rossi that it was an honour to know them..." You could feel yourself finally, properly slipping into the abyss. He squeezed your hand right back.

"Please," was all Spencer could seem to muster.

"And tell Dr. Spencer Reid that he is the smartest person I've ever known and I've always found him incredibly talented at all that he does. Please tell him that even with avoidance and a cold shoulder I still loved him just as much as any of the other team members." You fought to open your eyes again and when you did, you could hardly see him.

"I was too scared to tell you it all, I was a coward, I'm so sorry..." He sobbed. Your fingers slid between his. Just for a moment, you could enjoy his pity.

You couldn't shake your head when you tried. "You are the farthest from being a coward, Spencer. I'm not trying to make this like a movie scene, I'm trying to let you know that you-" Slipping further... "You aren't a coward and I forgive you and I'm sorry."

"No, I-I-I am because-" his tone went from soft and sad, to angry. This anger was within himself. His cracks went away for a split second as he yelled at himself, words you'd never thought you'd hear, not even at the end. "Because I was in love with you and I was scared to go- to go- near that aspect of my life at all. Cowardice, it's cowardice."

You couldn't even speak. It was the worst and best possible time for confession. The right person, but too little time. Hardly any time at all. The sand continued to slip the pinch of the hourglass. "You'll be alright, Spencer."

"No..." he whispered. You wouldn't tell him how you had felt. You would stick with generalizing your love for the team with him, rather than dying after telling him that you loved him the most. Despite it all and despite the ending to it all, you wouldn't tell him you loved him the most because that would fester within him and eat him alive. You wished he didn't have an eidetic memory. You wished he wouldn't play your death over and over after you were gone. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, just hold on longer..."

Your next words were close to being your last as your eyes fluttered shut again. "I can't." Spencer's breathing hitched, then picked up. He couldn't move you, he couldn't leave you, he couldn't save you. It was time to go, so you choked out your last words. "Please don't let them forget me-" You coughed again. "And know that you shouldn't miss me and be happy. Leave the missing up to me."

He squeezed your hand as you were thickened with a feeling like going to sleep with a stomach ache. You were going, finally, after it all. The medics were too slow, the terrain was too uneven to get a team to run. You wished while you slipped into the dark, that the last sounds wouldn't have been Spencer's broken sobs.

Tags: @mercy-burning, @laurakirsten0502, @ellyhotchner

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