#psychopaths have that ✨special something✨ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brywrites · 4 years

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Focus

A/N: Does this have anything to do with any WIPs? Absolutely not. But I came across the scene from “Wheels Up” where Spencer throws a book at a window and could not stop thinking about it and so here we are. Reid x Reader, Spoilers for Season 12 and 13.

Summary: The BAU is racing to find Prentiss and stop Scratch. When Reid can’t seem to focus long enough to think through the puzzle before them, the Reader has an impulsive, and... unconventional... solution to clear his head. Spencer Reid x fem!Reader; ✨

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She sits with Garcia and Simmons, flipping frantically through file folders while they stare at the computer screen. The words spoken between them are few – time is of essence here, and she’s afraid that if she starts to talk, all of the fears caged in her throat will turn themselves into words, and that anxious utterings will turn themselves into a nightmarish reality. She can’t allow herself to think about it. Not when Emily needs them. Emily, who was the first friendly face she met after being transferred from a communications post at Interpol’s New York office to the London office. The same Emily who made her laugh to the point of tears over wine as they watched bad American reality shows after tough cases, and who wrote her recommendation letter when Y/N decided to apply for an opening as the media liaison for the BAU when she missed the states too much. She’d gotten the job, and after finding herself feeling completely at home, had been thrilled when Prentiss crossed the Atlantic to become the Unit Chief the following year.

Emily has always been her close friend and someone she can turn to for advice when she doesn’t know what to do. But Emily is gone, and the rest of the team is in the hospital, and it’s up to her to be brave now. To help Garcia and Simmons find a connection and hope that with Reid, they can make sense of it. He’s always been the genius, with him here she knows they can do it. They have to do it.

Matt breaks the silence looming over them to point out that Emily’s recent text messages reference Honduras. It’s their first solid lead all night. She sets the folders aside and leans in to see what they’re looking at.

“We thought Scratch fled there after he framed Reid for murder in Mexico,” Penelope says. Y/N flinches at the memory. The last few months have been a nightmare in themselves. Watching one of her friends arrested and imprisoned isn’t something she’ll soon forget. And now that Reid is finally home and free, one of her best friends is being held hostage by a psychopathic killer. A clock ticks in her mind, counting down the few hours they have to find Emily in time, and she pushes it away. She can’t think ahead. She needs to focus on the now.

Matt nods. “Prentiss asked CIT to contact our Central American sources just to see if we could find anything. Now we never did, but we also never stopped to ask why Scratch was in Honduras in the first place,” Matt says. So it’s still a puzzle. Fortunately, they have a genius who specializes in solving puzzles.

Garcia offers them both a nervous smile. “Reid will figure this out,” she assures them. “He’s really amazing at this kind of thing.” But the moment the words have left her mouth, a loud thud startles the three of them. They spin around to see Reid turning away from the glass window of the roundtable room, a bent book lying open on the floor from where he threw it. Matt stands, stepping in front of the two of them, one arm out as though to protect them from any further outburst.

She wants to tell him not to worry – that it’s Reid, that he would never hurt them. But she’s not so sure who she knows who he is anymore. Just thirty minutes ago he kicked the three of them out of the roundtable room, shoving them out and slamming the door behind them. When she looks at him, he doesn’t see the coworker who had smiles softer than his cardigans or who went out of his way to make her feel welcome in her first few weeks on the job. A few hours ago he tried to kill Cat Adams – not that she can blame him, after what he went through, but it’s not like him. Not the Reid she’s come to love.

Y/N follows Garcia and Matt up the stairs and into the roundtable room, where they find Reid pacing back and forth. “B-CAP is short for banisteriopsis caapi,” he says, not bothering with any greeting “It’s a plant, specifically a hallucinogenic that’s found in a tea called ayahuasca.”

“We worked a couple of those cases,” Matt says. “If I remember it’s like, uh, peyote.”

“Yeah, in multiple ways.” He explains the legal and pharmacological resemblances, and Y/N is trying hard to focus, but she can’t help noticing the dissonance in Reid’s behavior. He’s rambling a bit, and that’s him, that’s something she recognizes, but his stare is blank. The light she has come to expect in his eyes when he talks like this is dimmed and distant. The last time she saw him in person, his hair fell just past his jaw in short curls. His face was clean-shaven and she could still remember the grin that changed his face entirely when they talked to the little girl at the police station together.

“You have the same hair as my doll,” the girl had said. And Reid had laughed, glancing at Y/N.

“I do, don’t I?” he said.

And she’d replied, “She’s right. But don’t worry, it’s a good look for you.”

The man before her now doen’t seem capable of making a light-hearted joke. Coarse stubble has grown out on his face, his cheeks are hollow, and the circles under eyes his are darker than she’s ever seen them. His hair nearly reaches his shoulders, his messy curls now long and unruly. His suit doesn’t fit him quite right either, the jacket loose around his arms and the shirt a little tight around his waist, his tie utterly askew.

“What does this have to do with Scatch?” Garcia asks, bringing her out of her own thoughts.

“Scratch has a cocktail of dissociative drugs to induce delusions,” Reid sighs, rubbing his eyes. “But a mathematical mind like his would always be looking for new ways to tweak and improve the formula.” So it was drugs Scratch left the country in search of. Drugs he must have brought back with him in DC, with the intent to use them on the team. On Emily. Oh god, what’s happening to Emily right now?

“We need to track down all practitioners in the district,” Reid says. “He could be using any of them as a partner, either witting or unwitting.” He rubs the back of his neck, staring down at the floor as he trails off. His eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth turned down. The quiet settles heavily over them before he looks up, and the confusion that paints his face tells her that Garcia and Simmons must be looking at him with the same dazed expression she has on. “What?” he asks, the word coming out harsh, like an accusation.

Garcia nods towards the glass. “You threw a book at a window,” she says. “It was jarring.”

And a little hot. The thought comes unbidden into her mind and she pushes it away. She’s not attracted to violence or toxic displays of power but to see Reid unrestrained like this is… something. If Emily were here, Y/N has no doubt she would be teasing her, able to profile from the slightest change in a microexpression just what she thinks of her teammate.

Reid narrows his eyes, glaring at the book. “It took me sixty minutes to deduce what should have taken me sixty seconds. And if Emily dies,” he says, and she tries not wince, “because I was too slow, I’ll be throwing a lot more than books.” He lets the words hang there like a threat, then shoulders past Garcia to return to the pile of books and papers littering the roundtable.

Simmons glowers at Reid, who closes the blinds over the windows before slumping down in a chair without so much as a glance their way. “Come on,” he says, setting his jaw. “Let’s go back downstairs.”

She starts out after them but stops short. She knows Simmons is frustrated, but they’re not going to get anywhere when Reid is like this. “I’ll be right there,” she tells them. Matt shoots her a look that says, good luck with that. She quietly steps back into the room, closing the door behind her as softly as possible. He’s standing at the whiteboard now,

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Reid mutters as he turns a page of the book in his hands.

“Hey, I’m not mad,” she says. At the sound of her voice, he turns, his eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise. He must have been expecting Garcia. It makes sense of course, Penelope has known him longer and has long-since been the team’s cheerleader. But they’ve become close in the two years they’ve worked together, and it doesn’t feel right to leave him seething in self-loathing. She walks over to stand beside him. “I’m worried about you. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

He snorts. “Sorry,” he says immediately, setting the book down on the table. “It’s just that Emily said the same thing to me once.”

The comparison makes her smile, just a bit. She wants to ask him for that story, but they don’t have time to reminisce right now. “We’re gonna find her, Reid.”

“I want to believe that,” he says. “But I… I can’t think straight. There’s too much in my head and I can’t make it stop. It’s overwhelming and I need to be able to focus on this.” He shakes his head, as though the motion will clear out the cacophony. “What’s the point of being a genius if I can’t protect them?”

“This isn’t all on you. You’ve been through a lot in the last 24 hours. You’re grieving and you’re processing trauma. It’s okay to be struggling with this.”

“I don’t have time to struggle. I need to clear my head. Emily needs me and I can’t focus on a goddamn thing in front of me!”

It triggers a memory, and an impulse overtakes her. Before she even realizes it, she’s leaning across the short space between him and her lips are on his and it’s a full five seconds before she comes to her senses and pulls away. He stares at her, slack-jawed. But she’s not a profiler, she can’t read his thoughts by the look on his face. All she can think is that she’s made a horrible mistake at the worst time.

“What did you do that for?” he asks.

“I – I’m sorry, I um…” She runs her hands through her hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. It’s just, what you said reminded me of something Emily told me.”

She can still recall Emily laughing in their hotel room in Florida. Trust me, Y/N, he likes you too. He’s just an complete idiot when it comes to women. Reid had asked Emily to let him go to the M.E. with Luke instead of Y/N, and she was hurt by it, thinking maybe he didn’t want her around or didn’t see her as useful. I guarantee it’s because he’s afraid he won’t be able to think straight with you there. Any time there’s a pretty girl in front of him, his IQ is slashed in half. Like there’s nothing in that brain of his anymore. And he definitely finds you attractive. If you kissed him, I swear he’d forget his own name.

But there can’t be any way Emily was right. If he felt the same way, why would he have asked Prentiss to keep her off the visiting list at the prison? Why would he have shut her out when he didn’t do that to anyone else?

Desperate to explain this away she says, “She used to joke that you lost half your IQ points when a girl flirted with you, and you said you needed to clear your head and so I thought… I don’t know what I was thinking, I j–”

“Do it again.”

“What?”

“Kiss me again,” he commands. Then adds, “Please.” And so she does. The blinds are closed, the door is shut behind them. She grabs his tie and pulls him closer, and tries to pour every single second she has spent pining over him into the kiss. It’s not at all what she had imagined kissing Spencer Reid would be like. His hands cup her face, keeping her place as his lips roam over hers greedily, taking her in. It’s hard and rough, as he pushes her up against the wall of the room and presses his weight against her. Sloppy open-mouthed kisses keep her from catching her breath.

And then he stops, pulling back, panting hard. She swears there is a little more light in his eyes as she tries to steady her own breathing. He stares at her for just a moment, then looks back at the whiteboard. Reid then grabs a map off the table, marking it with pen, and then runs out of the room. The only thing she can do is go after him.

“To be able to hack that many phones on the road, Scratch would’ve needed something stronger than just a signal jammer. He has to have a tech set-up somewhere within a fifteen mile radius of the location of the accident,” Reid says, setting the map down in front of Garcia and Simmons. “But he’s too smart to keep everything in one place. He’ll have a secondary location nearby. My guess is the church will be where he’s storing the technology – he’d draw attention with medical equipment. Narrow your search to spaces in the area. Once you find it, you’ll be able to triangulate–”

“Triangulate the radiofrequency signals and find Emily!” Garcia finishes, already typing frantically on her computer.

Simmons looks warily at Y/N. “What on earth did you say to him in there?” he asks. She shrugs, trying her best to look as bewildered as the others at Reid’s sudden stroke of genius.

The laptop pings. “And I’ve got it! Church of the Herbal Sacrament!”

“I’ll take you there,” Matt tells her. “We can be there in ten minutes.”

“I’ll start driving that way,” Reid says. “Text me the address for the secondary location once you find it.”

“Reid,” Matt starts. “I don’t know if it’s the best idea for you to-”

Reid stares him down. Any brevity she found in his face earlier is gone. “I’m going to find Scratch, and I’m going to kill him. With or without backup. I’m not letting him take anything else away from me.”

He grabs his go-bag from his desk and makes a dash for the elevator. Y/N goes with Garcia and Simmons to the church, where as predicted, they find what looks like a tiny IT department. Garcia works her magic, as she always does, and seconds later Y/N is sending the whole team the address. Reid included. Then they’re back in the car and rushing to the abandoned warehouse.

Reid is already there, running inside as they approach. He leaves the door of the SUV hanging open, and it is of some small comfort to her to see he’s at least bothered to put his vest on. Alvez arrives immediately after and Simmons suits up. Two gunshots ring out in the night and she digs her hands into her palms feeling more useless than she ever has on a case.

Her best friend and the person she’s been in love with for the last year are in there and she can’t lose either of them tonight. They’ll be okay, she tells herself. They have to be okay. She has to have more nights singing in the car on the way home from a bar with Emily. She has to have more bad reality TV marathons while Sergio cuddles between them. She has hear her laugh when she tells Emily what happened in the roundtable room. All those shared moments can’t be over yet. She’ll take the good and the bad. If Reid never speaks to her on a case again, if his eyes never again crinkle when she tells him a joke, she’ll be okay with that, so long as he lives. An endless string of moments still yet to pass stretches before her and she begs fate not to sever it too soon.

More shots are fired. She holds her breath. And then, perhaps the sweetest sound she’s ever heard. Luke’s voice over the comms. “Scratch is down. Repeat, Scratch is down. We’ve got Emily.”

Garcia bursts into tears on the spot, hugging Y/N as they stand there next to the car. They wait as four figures emerge from the alley beside the building. They’re all okay. They’re all alive. And Reid is there with his arm around the shoulders of the person she would know anywhere.

“Emily!” Y/N goes running to her and she steps away from Reid in time to catch her friend in a hug. “Oh my god, you’re okay,” she sobs.

Emily hugs her tight. “It’s all okay now. It’s over. It’s finally over.”

“Medics are on their way,” Reid says. “We need to get you to a hospital.” Emily looks between the two of them with frightened eyes and he says, “We’ll come with you.” Y/N isn’t sure what’s happening or why Emily looks so terrified, but she nods in agreement regardless. They ride with Emily in the back of an ambulance, and she holds her hand the whole way. Fortunately, Prentiss doesn’t need any surgery, but she does need rest and plenty of fluids. They doctors want to keep her under observation until they’re sure the B-CAP has left her body. She’s given medication to help with the pain and quickly falls asleep in the hospital bed.

Y/N sits in plastic chair watching her friend sleep, trying to process everything that has happened tonight. Twenty-four hours ago they were fighting to bring Reid home from prison. Then they were racing to save Diana and stop Cat Adams. Followed by the terrifying moment she thought her best friend might be dead, and the horrific reality that a teammate was dead. And then Reid had yelled at them and she’d kissed him and now she’s here, grateful, able to let her body rest for the first time in months.

Beside her, Spencer says, “I didn’t kill him.”

“Hmm?” Her mind is sleepy and his sudden announcement catches her off guard. He’s hardly spoken a word to her since the roundtable room, barely even acknowledged her presence.

“Scratch. He fell off the roof. I didn’t kill him. I wanted to, but Emily asked me to stay with her. I think she knew that if I did, I – I wouldn’t ever be myself again. Not that I really even feel like I know who I am now,” he sighs. “I just thought you should know.”

“Oh.” She’s not sure why he’s telling her this now, but it comes as a relief. He’s lost too much lately. One of the things she tries hardest to do is help her profilers hold on to parts of themselves that the darkness would try to steal away, but some things are just bigger than she can grasp.

When she doesn’t say anything else, he adds, “And, um, thank you. For doing what you did in the roundtable room. It was the first time in months that everything just… went quiet. And I could actually focus.” With a sheepish glance, he asks, “How did you know that would work?”

“I didn’t,” she admits. “But Emily was convinced you liked me. And she always thought that if you lost your train of thought around a pretty girl, that it would have a similar effect if I kissed you. I don’t know why I thought of that at that moment.” Maybe it was the memory. Maybe it was the way she couldn’t but find his disheveled frustration a little bit thrilling. Maybe it was just desperation to do something, anything that might help them find Emily faster.

“Well, I’m glad you did,” he says. “She was right.”

“What?”

Reid stares down at his shoes. “I’ve liked you for a long time. You’re kind, and you’re easy to talk to, and I think you’re beautiful. And for the first few months we worked together, I couldn’t do anything in the field with you because I couldn’t focus on anything else when you were around.”

“Then why did you stop me from visiting you at Milburn?” she asks. The exclusion had stung. After hours of conversations on the jet and lunches in the Quantico courtyard, after comforting him when his mother was sick and regaling him with stories of misadventures she and Emily had abroad, she thought she had earned his trust. She wasn’t his closest confidante, but they were close enough that he told her why Morgan’s departure was so hard for him on a plane ride home, and that when she’d had a hard time with a case he was the one she wanted to talk to until she felt better.

He sighs, resting his head in his hands. He looks so tired, and despite the exhaustion in her own bones she can’t even begin to comprehend what he must be feeling right now. “I know I shouldn’t have done that. But I just didn’t want you to see me like that. I couldn’t bear the thought of you looking at me like a criminal. I knew Emily had told the team about my Dilaudid use and I was being framed for murder and I’d lied about so many things.” Reid shrugs. “I guess that’s why I wanted to tell you about Scratch. Because you always seem to see the best in me, even when I don’t see it. And I want to try to live up to that.”

“Spencer,” she says softly. “I would never think that.”

“I know. I was just scared. Y/N, you make me feel more like myself when I’m with you. You remind me who I am and you make me want to be better. When you kissed me, it was like the rest of the world disappeared. Prison, Cat Adams, Scratch, it all just stopped. All I could think about was you, and the way it felt to be kissing you. And that’s exactly what I’m talking about. I mean, I look like a mess,” he laughs. “But you still kissed me. And everything made sense again.”

“Well, to be fair,” she says. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. And the whole disheveled chic thing is kind of working for you. Or at least, it is for me.” She offers him a timid smile, and for the first time in ages he returns it with a genuine grin. There’s light in his eyes again. He might not be the exact same Spencer Reid she knew, but he’s still Spencer. And she’s still in love with him.

“Are you kidding me?” Emily’s groan startles them both, and Y/N turns to see the Unit Chief wide awake, staring at them. “You kissed Reid? While I was being held hostage by Scratch?” Panicked, she starts to apologize, but Emily cuts her off, grinning. “You know I’ve been waiting all year for you guys to actually get together! You couldn’t have held off just another hour? Y/N, I have money on this!”

“Wait a minute,” she gasps. “Is that what the office betting pool Garcia wouldn’t let me join is? She told me it was for Premier League soccer and that my time in London gave me an unfair advantage!”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game. I was right after all, wasn’t I? Now, since you had the audacity to make out while I might have been dying,” Emily says, flinging her arm to her forehead with all the melodrama she can muster. “Maybe you two lovebirds can go get me some ice cream from the cafeteria or something? I doubt they’ll let me have wine in here.”

And so they walk down the hall together in search of compensatory sweets. “When you kissed me, I realize my reaction may have been a bit more… harsh… than I intended it to be,” Spencer says.

“There’s no need to apologize,” she replies. “It was unexpected, but it certainly wasn’t bad.” If she’s being honest, she’s always found herself a bit flustered in the rare occasions when he’s told off a suspect or been forceful about something. But she also finds herself swooning when he’s gentle with victims or when he recites a poem or when he offers a hand to help her down the steps of the jet. She loves all of him.

He chuckles. “Well, I’m glad. But I wasn’t quite myself. And I want to do this right.” He stops walking and raises one hand to caress her cheek. The smile on his face softens, and the distant look in his eyes is gone as he gazes at her with such tenderness she thinks she might melt on the spot. Then he leans in slowly to press his lips to hers in a kiss so sweet. He’s gentle with her, the frenzied need of before is gone and he’s taking his time with her, his teeth grazing her bottom lip. His thumb stroking the skin of her cheek as he pulls her a little closer. Her arms find their way around his waist and she can feel him smile against her mouth.

This is the moment she’s imagined time and time again. The softness of his lips, the careful grip he maintains, the unselfish way he yields to her movements, the ardor of it all.

When he finally pulls away, the dazed expression he wears is one of contentment. The blissed out smile on his face makes her feel all too keenly aware of her own body and warmth in her chest. He blinks at her and then, glances around at the hospital corridor.

“Were we – um – were we doing something?” he asks.

She can’t help but laugh. “Yes. But I think Emily will understand if we take a few minutes longer.” Emily is safe and Spencer is holding her hand and though she’s been awake for nearly twenty-four hours straight, it’s okay. The rest of the world can wait. This moment is the only thing she wants to focus on.

(Part II)

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #focus

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