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

Trust

Warnings: Forced sedation/bondage, kidnapping/abduction, violent/dangerous situations, descriptions of blood, descriptions of physical assault, descriptions of track marks/self harm scars, description of an intense panic attack, descriptions of the effects of being sedated, vivid descriptions of sexual assault.

TW: This chapter contains a VERY VIVID description of sexual assault of someone while they are sedated and bound against their will. This can be potentially very triggering, if any of these themes bother you, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER. This character will receive comfort at the end of this chapter after the assault, but that does not make this part any easier to read.

I had to take breaks while writing this, don't be afraid to take breaks while reading it. Stay safe, loves. Please message me if you need anything.

You preferred when you couldn't feel anything.

It took a moment to register your surroundings before the hopelessness set in.

You had almost forgotten where you were. How much danger you were in. You thought the light behind your eyelids, illuminating them a soft blood orange while they were still closed, might have been caused by sunlight streaming in through your windows.

You thought maybe the covers were wrapped a little too tight around your angles like they did sometimes when you rolled over too much in your sleep.

You thought, just for a moment, that when you heard him calling your name, it was to pull you softly out of the blanket of sleep, to wake you up gently next to you as he softly kissed your head. "Y/N" you imagined him calling softly.

That is most certainly not what was happening.

Instead, you were ripped violently out of sleep by a blood curdling yell of frustration that seemed to be coming from beside you. You gasped suddenly, feeling your eyes shoot open and burn from the red lights that were illuminating you like spotlights right above where you were laying on your back.

You tried to sit up but found your limbs unmovable. You tried to lift your head but found you were unable to. You tried to speak but found you couldn't form the words.

So you turned your head as you panicked toward the source of the scream, widening your eyes as the person next to you shot their head up to stare at you in reaction to the found of your hair brushing against the table as you turned your head.

Spencer.

He was blindfolded.

He was bound to a chair, sitting upright with thick black ropes constraining his arms to the arms of the old, but sturdy, metal chair that had been bolted to the ground. He was tugging at the restraints on his hand. His head had been secured to the back of the chair but he was pulling at it anyway- but he wasn't pulling away to get out of the chair- he was trying to push himself back further into the chair, trying to get away from the noise he had heard, the noise that came from you.

He was terrified, his chest heaving as you could hear and see him being worked up by the lack of information he had at his fingertips, bound in a strange room, which had been occupied by his now unconscious and bleeding friends who were still in the room beyond the metal door in the corner. At least, that's where you assumed they were.

It's like Spencer's mind was fighting with himself. Does he try to escape or does he try to retreat back into the chair?

You saw his legs trying to kick forward, trying to jolt against the rope to loosen it, trying to free his feet so he could use them to protect himself. His arms were doing the same, urging his still scared and bleeding wrists to break free from the confines, but only causing more of his skin to rub and tear open, causing him grit his teeth but also finding the pain dulled from the sheer adrenaline of the situation. He couldn't tell what was around him, panicking at the unknown and the sheer terror of anticipation.