Not ideal was an understatement — this was terrifying. The last time Spencer Reid found himself tied to a chair, looking at a woman he was starting to love, she died. So, no, this was not a normal situation on the field. You were tied to the chair in front of him, hands tied to the back of it and mouth taped closed, hair completely messy all over your face as you tried to fight yourself free from the binds — but they wouldn’t move. Spencer, on the other hand, didn’t have a tape over his mouth.

Reid was tied, yes — but the unsub kept his mouth free because he wanted to talk to Spencer. Well, you and your team, the BAU, already knew that the unsub you guys were chasing worked with communications but none of you knew where, exactly — and, to your utmost luck, the man was a journalist that was keeping a close eye to the case, pretending to be interested in it only for the paper he worked in. Good cover, he had — and, oh, in both sense of words: he had a good cover physically, too. The unsub had a freshly taken picture of you and Doctor Spencer Reid after you spoke to the media asking for the public to be safe in their houses, and, shit, the FBI was getting close to him. It both scared and thrilled the unsub, especially after having taken a picture of Spencer hugging you from the side, bringing you inside the police station, protecting you. Like you weren’t another FBI agent like him, but a precious thing that could break at any time. Adorable.

The unsub spent a whole week looking at that picture he took of the two of you. He could see it, even if the two of you had your backs turned to the camera: love, but tension. Oh, he hadn’t told you and you hadn’t told him. How sweet, hm? Useful. So, the man decided to set a trap: he sent a note to him and another to you, in which he said that he had kidnapped Spencer/you and if any of you called the FBI or Penelope Garcia (well, yes, he knew her name, he was a journalist) you/him would die — which was only a ruse, since both of you got a note talking about the other, but the same location, and when Spencer saw you walking outside your car towards the home in the abandoned neighborhood of the house he stood right in front of, he noticed it was a trap. But it was too late. Gun to his face, the unsub made Spencer watch him tie you, and made you watch him tie Spencer. But the fun was just starting, apparently.

“So, Spencer.” Started the unsub, gun to his own head — clearly not a very normal person. “The barrel of my gun has only one bullet. Shall we play Russian roulette?”

Spencer hazel’s eyes widened in fear, and he shook his head. “No, we’re not playing that!”

“Okay, okay. Fine, we are not playing that.” Laughed the unsub, pointing his gun at… you. “Then you choose. You play, or her?”

No— What? You also widened your eyes, fighting even harder against the ropes that kept your wrists tied to your back. No, no, no—

“Me.” Spencer said like it was obvious, tone cool like the unsub was dumb. “Of course, me.” Of course, him. Spencer Reid would never choose you — no, he loved you too much, and he already knew what happened to women he loved when they had a gun pressed to their heads. So, no. It was him.

“Good boy.” Cackled the unsub, but he didn’t point the gun to you — nor Spencer. Instead, he walked over to you, which made Spencer’s blood run cold in fear, yet he didn’t press his gun to your temple. “Let us see what the pretty thing here has to say before we play, then.”

With a movement of his free hand, the unsub ripped the tape off your lips — and, shit, that hurt. Spencer’s gaze softened when he looked at you, hazel eyes on yours, and he mouthed “don’t say anything”.

Like hell you wouldn’t.