glorixuspurpose

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i write occasionally

421 posts

Everyones Replaceable

Everyone’s Replaceable👥

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Black!Fem!Reader (romantic to platonic), BAU x Reader

Category: angsty anti-reader

Summary: Reader wakes up from a 6-month coma and comes back to work, but what happens when she learns that she’s been replaced?

Content: mentions of medically-induced coma, being shot, blood, near-death, depression, suicidal thoughts

Reader Behavior: I usually don’t add descriptions but reader is a bitch in this story (rightfully so). She’s angry about the circumstances and will lash out at anyone (except Penelope). *adding this bc if you feel like that’s not how you would react in this situation, it might be hard to ignore her behavior.*

*reader has a job in the B.A.U. that I created specifically for this story called a case advisor. a case advisor is basically someone that takes the cases that JJ doesn’t deem a priority. they’ll provide advice and assistance to the police departments as to what step to take next, but they won’t fly out to every location to do so— they have an office where they provide assistance over the phone.*

I always had an outfit for every occasion. Dinner dates, girls nights, sleepovers, work, etc., but I never picked an outfit for coming back from the dead. The metaphorical dead, that is. I figured that something casual would work, since I didn’t expect to be thrust into a case on my first day back. After sifting through my somewhat extensive wardrobe, I settled on my F/C sweater and some jeans, before adding a cute pair of Converse to finalize the look.

My outfit was unprofessional, but since there wasn’t a Pinterest board for outfits fit for this specific occasion, I had to improvise. A little makeup and some jewelry topped off my less-than-acceptable outfit for the day, but it was too late to change, so I grabbed my keys and hurried out of my apartment.

I felt an oddly nostalgic feeling as I drove to the B.A.U. building, and I even took the long way to allow myself more time to get my thoughts together. I should’ve been happy to see my friends and my boyfriend again, but instead, all I could feel was the slow and steady anger bubble inside me. I had been in a medically-induced coma for the last six months after sustaining seven gunshot wounds, and four out of the six months I spent on life-support, I was alone in my hospital room, my only visitors being the endless number of nurses, doctors, and specialists coming to see me.

When I woke up, I was told that, in the first two months, my coworkers flooded my room in between every case they tackled, sitting at my bedside and discussing their favorite memories of me with one another. After the second month was over, my regular guests whittled down to one blonde woman with fun glasses and a kind smile— Garcia. My doctor also told me that she would send me one, large, vibrant bouquet of flowers in the months that she couldn’t come and see me. Of course, I appreciated the kind gesture, but what I couldn’t wrap my head around was why no one else— including my boyfriend of eight months— hadn’t come to see me.

At first, I chalked it up to busyness. “He’s busy,” I thought. “Maybe he tried to make time for me and got sidetracked.” Eventually, I realized that I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. Spencer clearly didn’t care enough about me to visit me while I was inches away from death. Once I came to this realization, I allowed myself to cry and wallow in my grief for a couple of months I even attempted to convince myself that I didn’t need him, but lying to myself would only make it worse.

Once my sorrow subsided, I was left with anger. I marched myself down to the hospital and asked for a copy for my medical documents, including my visitor logs and information on who paid for my life support. At first, the nurse was reluctant to hand over my medical information, but a quick flash of my F.B.I. credentials changed her mind. Of course I felt guilty, but I needed to see the logs. I needed to confirm that one of the most important people in my life was absent when it was hanging in the balance.

I exited the hospital that day with a tan file in my shaky hands, and I couldn’t wait until I got home to open the file and gingerly remove its contents. My eyes scanned the logs, and the name ‘Spencer Reid’ stopped showing up after two months, which meant that the doctor didn’t lie. I thought I was done wallowing, but I couldn’t stop the hot tears from sliding down my cheeks at the thought of laying half-dead in a hospital room without my boyfriend by my side.

My thoughts came to a halt when I pulled into the parking lot of the large building, and I could swear my heart audibly dropped into my shoes. A shaky breath rattled my lungs as I checked my hair and makeup one last time. Here goes nothing.

I pushed the glass doors of the B.A.U open and walked inside, my heart beating loudly in my ears. Part of me wanted to spin on my heel and walk back to my car, but my feet, having other plans, carried me forward. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for someone to spot me. Garcia gasped and dropped the stack of files she was holding and let out an ear-piercing scream. Without warning, she ran over to me and threw herself onto me, wrapping me in a tight hug. I quickly returned the favor, a sigh escaping my lips. “I’ve missed you,” she croaked. “I know, I’ve missed you, too,” I replied, holding her at arm’s length. We exchanged weak smiles before hugging again. While we hugged, something caught my eye. The nameplate outside of my office read ‘Samantha Bridges’ and not Y/N L/N. “Penelope,” I said, releasing her from our hug. “Yeah?” “Who’s Samantha Bridges?” I inquired, my gaze trained on the nameplate. “The new case advisor,” she mumbled. What?!

There’s a million things I could’ve said in that moment, but all I could manage was “What?!” Garcia nodded, looking down and away from me. “You’ve been replaced.” “Yeah, I can see that,” I snapped. I instantly regretted it but I couldn’t control myself. “Where is she?” I demand. “With Reid at his desk.” Now I knew why he didn’t come to visit me. He had moved onto my replacement. I have Garcia a short hug before telling her that I wasn’t angry at her. She nodded and watched as I stormed over to Spencer’s desk, where he was happily chatting with a girl that, surprisingly, resembled me. “What the hell?” I exclaimed, a look of disgust on my face. The two turned to me, faces painted with shock. “Y/N,” Spencer whispered. “I-I didn’t think y-you’d come back.” “Yeah, I can fucking see that,” I snapped again without an ounce of regret in my body. “Hi,” the girl said. “I’m Sa—” “I don’t give a fuck who you are,” I replied harshly, to which she dropped her hand and looked up at Spencer, who looked like a puppy that had been kicked too many times. The thought of him suffering the consequences of his own actions brought a genuine smile to my face.

“Y/N…” he started. “Why didn’t you visit me, huh?” I interject. “I… I got—” “Busy cheating on me with other girls,” I finished. “Spence, who’s this?” Samantha asked him. “You’re not talking to him, you’re talking to me,” I told her, causing her to turn her gaze towards mine. “I am— I was —his girlfriend.” If she could get pale, she would’ve. I turned my focus back to Spencer, who looked like he’d seen a ghost. “I take seven bullets for this team and land myself in a medically-induced coma for you to cheat on me with my clone from Wish.” “Y/N, please, can we talk somewhere else?” Spencer begged. “There’s nothing to talk about,” I replied harshly, watching the hopeful twinkle in his eye disappear. “You cheated on me while I was on life support. I thought boyfriends were supposed to visit their half-dead girlfriends in the hospital.” By then, JJ, Morgan, and Emily had gathered around us, and Garcia followed suit.

“If I knew that sacrificing myself for this team would cost me six months of my life, I would’ve never joined in the first place,” I told them, a single tear slipping down my cheek and causing my voice to tremble. “I-I can’t even comprehend this betrayal.” “Y/N…” Samantha whispered. “I don’t wanna hear shit from you,” I barked, causing her to shrink away from the anger that radiated off of my body as I spoke. “I got a copy of my visitation logs from when I was in my coma, and I saw how the visits from everyone that wasn’t named Penelope Garcia stopped after two months.” “In fact, she even delivered me a bouquet of flowers every time she couldn’t come see me, as well as paid for my life support.” I turned to look at her, my eyes filled with unshed tears threatening to spill if I didn’t finish my speech. “Penelope, I owe you my life,” I said, watching as she offered a small smile and nodded, her own tears in her eyes. “Anything that you need me to do, I’ll do it.” I looked back at the team, who’s eyes were all glassy with tears formed from the hatred that filmed my body. “As for you all,” I announced, watching as they hung on to every word in anticipation for what disheartening blow I would deliver next. “I thought family looked out for one another, but it seems like no one returned the favor. Waking up in a strange new world with no one to guide you through it is something I would never wish on anyone, even you guys.” “If I knew that my team would turn their backs on me and my boyfriend would cheat on me, I would’ve forced myself to live out my fantasy delusion I lived in when I was in the coma. A delusion where Spencer and I got married and had kids. That’s just what it is— a delusion. If I were to live it out, I would’ve flatlined, and who knows? Maybe it wouldn’t have been such a bad thing after all.”

“If I knew what was waiting for me when I arrived, I would’ve spared you all the pain of seeing your former teammate that you abandoned, and instead, written a resignation letter. Since I didn’t come prepared,” I grab a sticky note off of Morgan’s desk and took a pen, scribbling down a note and thrusting it into JJ’s hands. “Give this to Hotch,” I demanded. “What’s it say?” Emily asked quietly. “‘I quit.’” Everyone’s faces fell as they all looked at me with expressions full of pain. “You don’t have to do this,” Morgan said. “Yes, I do, Derek.” The harsh use of his first name caused him to hang his head in the shame felt by the entire team. “There’s nothing left for me here. I can see that you already have your Black female in power, and it’s clear as day that you don’t want another one.” “Y/N, I’m so sorry for what happened,” Emily whispered. “I really am.” “I believe you.” Three words caused their faces to change to looks of hope, and four words took them away. “But, it’s too late.” I turned around and walked over to Garcia, wrapping her in another hug. “You’re leaving?” she asked, her voice filled with pain that brought a fresh set of tears to my eyes. “Yeah. We’ll talk, okay?” “Okay,” she mumbled, pulling away to sniffle and wipe her tears. “There’s nothing I have to say to you guys,” I told the team. If it was possible to look even more defeated, they did. “But Samantha,” I said. She perks up and looks at me with her face all red and blotchy. I had no idea why she was crying, seeing as this would’ve been a good thing for her, as it meant that she wouldn’t lose her job. “Remember that everyone’s replaceable.” All Samantha did was sniffle and blink away the stray tears. “And Spencer,” I called. He feebly looked up at me, his eyes already a bright shade of red from the tears. “Go fuck yourself.” It hurt to say, but the pain lessened when I reminded myself that he deserved it. With nothing else to say, I spun around and marched out of the building for the last time.

Everyones Replaceable

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