The Story That Didn't Want To Be Written | Spencer Reid x Reader

Conditions

TW: Mention of self harm/scars, Mention of a nightmare

You woke up rather quickly, jolting lightly as you felt the adrenaline forcing your eyes open and coursing down from your neck, through your arms, down to your fingers which were clenched around the starchy hotel bed sheets you were grasping.

Something was different- there were hands on you.

Wrapping around your waist and gripping you lightly, you could still move but you could swear the light pressure was the most restrictive thing you'd ever experienced. In your still half-conscious mind, you forget the man behind you is someone you know and trust and instead react out of panicked instinct- thrashing around the bed as you try to scream but can only open your mouth and let out a fast, panicked yelp.

Someone was speaking but the sound was imperceivable- you could feel vibrations passing through your skull but it was like the sound waves were passing right over your ears- traveling everywhere around you but remaining out of your reach.

It must have only been a few seconds because the second Spencer could register that you were scared of him and not of the very vivid nightmare you had just been having, he let go.

Originally, he had grabbed you because he thought you may wake up and sit up too quickly (he was more than correct about that) and he worried that you might accidentally hurt your side again.

Trying to be gentle, he has started speaking to you when you first started murmuring seven and a half minutes ago. You were sweating lightly and he could see your veins in your head pulsing with your heartbeat- it was fast. So he had started whispering to you like you had done for him on the plane.

"Y/N you're dreaming it isn't real" he has whispered lightly, seeing no change in your behavior.

Your stomach muscles were clenching; he could see your knees drifting up to your chest and your ribs suddenly working harder to move faster, stretching his shirt tighter and tighter across your back with every inhale. You shook your head a little, your eyes moving faster under your eyelids like you were trying to keep track of the fastest spinning object you had ever seen.

"Hey, it's me, it's Spencer. You're having a nightmare but you're okay, you're safe, it's not real" He was almost pleading with you, but was fighting to keep his tone neutral as to not confuse your brain and accidentally add another emotion for you to interpret in whatever hell you were living in your mind.

You had suddenly calmed down, your legs straightening out the tiniest bit and your ribs moving less dramatically. He must have thought for a moment you woke up because you had been sleeping with your back to him, he could only see the very edge of your profile- a little if your forehead and the tip of your chin. He had placed you like this so you couldn't accidentally roll onto your right tide, since he was right behind you and you would just roll to lay on top of him instead.

You said something- and he thought you were responding to him because your tone was soft, not enunciating and speaking softly, like someone would after waking up.

"Spencer" you had whispered, sounding like you were out of breath. It sounded almost unintentional actually, and he half thought he had imagined it because of the way it sounded like you were breathing out- he thought your mouth might have just so happened to be contorted in the perfect way for you to accidentally produce his name.

He sat up a little, careful not to shake the bed too much because he thought you had just woken up and might be a little sore. Rolling over to lay all his weight on his left forearm, he held himself up so he was a little bit higher than your laying down figure. He softly laid his hand on your shoulder and began to draw shaped on your skin lightly- the sleeves of his CalTech shirt had rolled up a little, since your arms were smaller than his in the large sleeves- and your shoulder had been exposed ever so slightly. He tensed his hand a little to give you a comforting squeeze, he wanted to look at your face, although he didn't exactly know just why yet.