#it's fully just spencer reid angst about his addiction

[usermoreid]

for the anon that wanted me to post my fic here too, here you go!! and for anyone who wants to read it on ao3: here's the link:)

All I Did Was Everything (Everything's Just Not Enough)

he's familiar with the taste of misery. the bitter, overwhelming feel of sadness that sits low in his stomach and high in his throat and chokes him and weighs him down and surrounds him. the way it covers his body in a hug that lacks affection and forces his grip to tighten on his deadly vices until he knows there's no way he'll be able to let them go. the way it replaces the air in his lungs and the blood in his veins and the tears in his eyes and the warmth in his touch.

the way the only thing that dulls it is contained in the small vial sat in his hand.

at one point, it had been years since he'd used. he'd been sober, but he hadn't been clean. how can he ever be clean with such a permanent stain on his soul? no amount of years on his coin can change the fact that he's yet to escape the everlasting grasp the substance has on his mind. the cravings eventually went away for a while, only resurfacing in his bad moments. he could handle that. he could handle it right up until a case hit too hard and the memories were too strong, too vivid. 

what are the chances of having an unsub drugging his victims with dilaudid only months before the four year anniversary of his own kidnapping? 

they'd caught him, at least. they'd caught him and saved a victim and he should have been happy. he should have jumped for joy or at the bare minimum, mustered a smile believable enough to not leave his friends concerned. but he didn't. he didn't really do much at all to stop their worrying. they shot him glances and asked how he was feeling and he replied in the ways he was expected to but not in the way that was honest. they invited him over and asked if he needed a ride home but all their attempts were futile because he still ended up getting the metro home alone before calling the number he'd deleted from his phone and asking for whatever he could get right then, which turned out to be heroin.

now one month later and here he is, the weight of the needle once again a comfort in his palm. 

it shouldn't have been enough to make him relapse. it was just a case that didn't even end badly. sure, the cravings were expected but he's held out against them before. he knows what to do when he's craving - he should go out with a friend, maybe do some paperwork or watch a movie to take his mind off of it. one time he locked himself in his closet and ended up falling asleep there overnight just so that he wouldn't go out and buy. this time he didn't even consider doing any of that. it was as if he was on autopilot. before he even realised what he was doing, he was handing a shady guy some money and being handed a small bag. he likes to think that he didn't leave the jet with the intention of buying, but deep down he knows that this was the plan the second they discovered the unsub's drug of choice.

he's sure his friends know by now. he's been using for a month and he hasn't really made much of an effort to hide it. he sees hotch's disapproving frown and the sadness in morgan's eyes when he looks at him and the way jj won't make eye contact with him. he sees it all, but if they won't acknowledge it then neither would he. 

he had expected this, he really did. he knew from the start that it would just be a repeat of the first time this happened. for a team of people trained to notice behaviour, they sure do have a habit of acting like they don't see what's happening. it happened with gideon, it happened with elle, it happened with him. they were all clearly suffering but nothing was done and it's happened so many times that he should be used to it by now but he's not. he wants them to talk to him about it. he wants hotch to sit him down and give him the ultimatum of his job or his addiction just to prove that he does actually care. he wants morgan to come over and search his apartment and then not leave until the detox is over and then routinely check in on him. if it comes to it he'd gladly accept garcia hacking his phone records to see if he's called any dealers. 

but they haven't, and they won't.

he tries to understand. he tries to see it from their perspective but he just can't. maybe it's just ingrained in him to do everything he can to care for those around him even if it inconveniences him. he's done it for his mother since he was a child and he's done it for everybody since. 

he knew gideon was struggling after boston and he tried to be there for him. there wasn't much he could do but he visited the man often and played chess with him and learned about birds so that he could talk to him about things he'd actually enjoy but in the end, it wasn't enough. gideon still left. 

he tried to talk to elle. admittedly, he didn't really understand what she was going through and didn't say what he should have. if he knew then what he does now, he's not sure how the conversation would've gone.  maybe he would've said something that made her get help. maybe she would still be on the team. or maybe things would've played out exactly the same way. there's no way for him to know, but that doesn't stop the conversation from playing on repeat in his head. 

"elle, he's dead. you're- you're right here. you won." 

"then here's to winning."

a bitter laugh escapes his throat as he tightens the belt on his arm and he has to swallow down the wave of emotions that threaten to drown him as he positions the needle. he didn't understand then, but he understands now. 

"yeah," he whispers, "here's to winning."

he pushes the needle in.

#word count: 1052 #it's fully just spencer reid angst about his addiction #tw drugs #criminal minds #spencer reid

[reidsaurora]

"Clean, PT. 2" ~ S. Reid

GIF by ofwilliamandwalter, please credit me if you use

Summary: 10 months later, Y/N and Spencer are happily enjoying their new baby girl. Everything seems perfect… but for Spencer, everything isn't always what it seems.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Mom!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2,200

Content Warning: heavy drug content, mentions of needles, very mild swearing

Genre: Fluff to Angst to Fluff

Extra Notes: shoutout to bestie boo (@bfunsolvedboys) for helping me name Spencer and Y/N's baby. ok, i think that's all for the notes lol

Based On: an idea me and bestie boo came up with. this part is very heavily inspired by "Clean" by Taylor Swift and many lyrics are featured throughout.

Takes Place: during the beginning events of S3 E16 "Elephant's Memory"

Originally Written: 03/24/2022

PT. 1 can be found here!

Criminal Minds Masterlist can be found here!

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"𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐚." - 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧

"Did I miss it?" I asked in a whisper, sitting near the end of the back row, next to Emily.

"You're just in time," she whispered back, pointing to Spencer, who was now standing at the front of the room.

"Hi, um…" he started nervously. "My name's, name's, uh, Spencer, and I'm a… I don't really know what I am."

"Hello, Spencer," the crowd replied. The crowd sounded boring, I couldn't lie, but every person alongside me on that back row was fully ready to support Spencer's speech.

"This is m-my first meeting," he admitted with a stutter, a nervous tic of his.

"Welcome," the crowd replied once more.

"Thank you," Spencer gave them a small smile. "Um… I guess I, uh… I knew I had a problem with dilaudid, but, um…" he continued to stutter. I could tell he was nervous, most likely because he'd never spoken publicly about his addiction. "I stopped. Like… ten months ago I stopped. I thought it was over, but recently I'm- I've really been…" his voice trailed off again, "Your literature uses the term 'craving.'"

My face fell at the mention of him using again. I knew he had urges, all addicts do, but something about him saying it out loud worried me. Like I'd lose him all over again.

"It started like a month ago. A-a suspect was murdered in front of me, a-a kid. And I thought I could save the kid… but I couldn't and…" his expression changed, somehow seeming even more saddened than he had before. "I've seen a lot of that stuff before, but for some reason that kid's face is really, uh, stuck in my brain, you know? It's really, uh, I can't... And I... I want to forget... about him, and... I just want to escape. And some-sometimes, I think… I don't know, maybe I think the Dilaudid would help," he said, followed by a nervous swallow. "But then… I see my wife and my daughter and… I don't know. I've had days where I've questioned if they were enough. But, when I look at them… when I actually, genuinely take a step back and look at what I've been given… I don't know, it's like I'm instantly better. I guess what I'm… what I'm trying to say is, don't lose sight of what is important to you," he finished, giving the crowd once last timid smile before rushing to the back of the room where everyone else was.

Spencer gave me a small smile as he sat down on the very end.

"You did a really good job," I whispered, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"Apparently not, considering Daisy slept through the whole thing," he joked quietly. He gently took the small bundle of a baby from my arms into his, softly rocking her as he turned his attention back to the next person to give their speech.

☆☆☆

"Aww, come here," Penelope frowned as she took my now crying baby out of Derek's arms, "Let Aunt Penny fix the problem, yeah?"

"I don't even know what I did," Derek stated, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"It's OK, Dee-Dee," Penelope said, rocking Daisy in her arms. "I'll give him a good spanking when we get home."

"Woman, you are in public," Derek chuckled, which also earned him a chuckle from the rest of the team.

"I wonder why she hates Derek," Emily commented, looking over Penelope's shoulder at Daisy, who was now on her way back to sleep.

"Baby Stranger Anxiety is actually quite a common thing. Though most of the time, it doesn't present itself until around six to twelve months old. It could also be separation anxiety, though that typically isn't seen until at least month four. If I had to make an educated guess, my answer would be," he paused dramatically, taking Daisy from Penelope before kissing her forehead and finishing, "She's just loyal to her Daddy and doesn't want to give her love to any other man."

I grinned, placing my hand on his back. "That's my Spencer."

"Huh?" he asked, turning to face me. He had an offended look on his face, though I was unsure how those three words could be perceived as offensive.

"What?"

"What did you say?"

"Oh, I just said, 'That's my Spencer,'" I repeated.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked defensively.

"Nothing, I didn't mean to-"

"Y/N, I saw your face earlier during my speech. I know what you meant."

After placing Daisy in my arms as quickly as he could, he stormed off down the hall, presumably to either the bathroom or our bedroom.

I took a quick breath, acting quickly. "Uh, here, Dais, you haven't had a chance to meet Papa Dave yet," I said, quietly placing the baby in Rossi's arms. "If she gets too fussy just give her back to Penelope."

And with that, I darted down the hall. Almost immediately, I spotted the closed bathroom door, the light shining through the crack above the floor.

"Spencer," I breathed heavily, attempting to open the door. Locked. "Spencer?" I called, rattling the doorknob. "Spencer, I swear, I will kick this door in."

"Doctor doesn't want you doing too much physical activity," he commented through the door.

"Then I will call Derek to kick the door in."

"Y/N, don't do that!"

"Then let me in."

"I can't!" he argued.

"Spencer Walter Reid, I will not hesitate to beat this door in with the closest heavy object."

No response.

I rolled my eyes, pushing into the door as hard as I could. I pushed and shoved and rammed and did every other possible movement I could until finally, the door swiftly opened.

It took my eyes only a split second to register what I was witnessing: he was standing over the sink, needle in one hand and vial of Dilaudid in the other. I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief when I saw that there was still medicine in the vial, but I couldn't when I remembered the other hand was holding a needle.

"Spencer, why do you have that?"

He didn't respond, he just kept shuffling the tiny bottle of Dilaudid in his hand.

"Spencer, you answer me right now. Why do you have that?" I repeated.

"Every day for the past month, I've looked at this vial and weighed out the pros and cons of not taking it. I look at it every day and remind myself that it's the last one I have access to… but every time I say that, I'm reminded that I had a dealer. I have inspected this vial of medicine for 32 days in a row and realized the cons of not taking it are starting to outweigh the pros."

"Why do you have it in the first place, Spencer?"

"I kept it just in case I needed it. I figured pain medication is still a good thing to have around, even if I did abuse it."

"Spencer," I hesitated, reaching my hand around him, carefully taking the needle out of his hand. "Spencer, I-"

"I feel like I'm drowning, Y/N. I haven't said anything, but I feel like this past month, I have been the most awful father I could be. I think about other fathers and I've realized… I'm horrible at this."

"Spencer, you are one of the best fathers I know. And I'm not just saying that, I mean it," I said, almost sternly. "Please tell me where all this is coming from."

"I miss it. I miss the way the Dilaudid made me feel, the way it distracted me from everything," he admitted.

"I understand what you mean. Just because you're clean, it doesn't mean you don't miss it," I told him. I took a deep breath as an idea washed over me. "Spencer, I think I know something that could help," I said as I leaned back against the counter.

"OK," he whispered, using that same tone he had ten months ago when he first told me he was struggling.

I took him by the hand, moving him over to the toilet. "I want you to take the lid off that bottle."

He nodded, doing as he was told.

"I want you to repeat after me. Do you think you can do that?"

"They don't call it an eidetic memory for nothing," he chuckled. I spotted a tear slipping from his eye as he spoke.

"Ten months ago, you ruled my life."

"Ten months ago, you ruled my life," he repeated.

"Now, I want you to tell that bottle all of the horrible things it did to you ten months ago. Tell it about how it manipulated you, how it controlled you, all the bad things it made you feel."

He exhaled, looking like he had a mile long list of things to say. "You manipulated me, you controlled me, you gaslighted me, you were possessive over me. I couldn't… I couldn't even take a breath because of you. I mean, it was a month of back and forth, a month of pure hell."

I shed a couple tears over his statement, but wiped them away so as to not let him see me cry. That was the last thing he needed right now.

"Now, again, repeat after me. Now that I'm ten months older, I won't give in."

"Now that I'm ten months older, I won't give in," he repeated.

"By morning, gone will be any trace of you."

"By morning, gone will be any trace of you," he exhaled, closing his eyes, almost like he was focusing on his breathing.

"Now, I want you to pour that medicine down the toilet, Spencer," I instructed.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's expensive and could be useful in the future if-"

"Spencer, I wouldn't care if it was worth a billion dollars or if I was suffering from the bubonic plague. Nothing outweighs you getting better."

He sighed before swallowing, inspecting the bottle one last time and finally, pouring every single drop of Dilaudid into the toilet. He watched as he flushed it down, and I could've sworn I saw relief wash over him as he did it.

"Come on, we've got a celebration to attend," I smiled, kissing his cheek.

☆☆☆

I awoke in the middle of the night, being met with the feeling of an empty bed. I rolled over, noticing that neither Spencer nor Daisy were in the room. I quickly rubbed my eyes, attempting to rid them of sleep. Upon stepping out of the bedroom and into the hallway, I noticed a light was on in Daisy's nursery and immediately knew where my husband was.

I opened the already cracked door, laying eyes on Spencer, who was sitting in the rocking chair shirtless with Daisy, who was sleeping peacefully on his chest. He always was a sucker for skin-to-skin time.

"Whatcha doin' in here?" I asked through a yawn.

"She started crying and I didn't want her to wake you up," he explained.

I wrapped my housecoat tightly around me as I sat down across from him on the ottoman. "You OK?" He had that same expression he always had when he was overthinking.

"Yeah, it's just… tonight was the first night in ten months that I've touched a needle. And when I had that needle in my hand, I realized something."

"What's that?"

"Well, for one, I have a severe case of trypanophobia now," he chuckled, "And two, I have everything to lose if I start taking the Dilaudid again."

I could tell Spencer was in one of those moods where he just needed to vent, so I stayed quiet, ready to listen to every word he had to say.

"I realized that above all else, I couldn't give up on what little bit of time I've had with Daisy. I mean, I only got to enjoy her for the first 24 hours before I took off for that case and saw that kid get shot. Daisy probably doesn't even know what I'm really like. I mean… how horrible of a father do I have to be to leave so quickly? And how horrible of a father am I that she only knows what I'm like during a relapse?"

"Spencer, you were there for the first 24 hours, the most critical hours of her life. And for the record, you are the best dad any little girl could have. And I don't mean that because you're my husband, I mean that because it's true."

He continued to rock back and forth in the chair gently, staying silent for a few moments. I placed my hand on his knee, rubbing small circles there for a couple seconds. It was then that I stood up, ready to head back to bed.

"Y/N," he stopped me.

"Hmm?" I hummed, turning back to face him.

"I realized tonight that I don't ever want to take those chances again. Now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it."

I shot him a smile before walking out into the hallway. I cracked the door behind me, exhaling a soft breath. "That's my Spencer."

"𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞." - 𝐉.𝐊. 𝐑𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

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OK, first of all, i LOVE this part! i think i might prefer this part over the first part. i loved writing this one and it's genuinely one of my favorite things i've written that i go back and re-read all the time hahaha.

Second of all, how do we feel about the bookend quotes? i actually started this in another draft but forgot i was posting this first so let me know how y'all feel 🤣

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[olivinesea]

In the Golden Dark

a/n: Having never done any ship writing before I’m just going to jump feet first into the deep end with a little Hotchreid for you today. It’s nice. No warnings except maybe some angst because we are who we are. Probably the softest thing you will see from me so enjoy the moment. Completely unnecessary disclaimer that I would find this relationship wildly inappropriate in real life but thank god we’re out here in the lawless fiction of the internet. And you’re getting full on song lyrics bc Hotchreid is nothing if not decadent af. There’s more but I’m impatient so here’s the first bit. ~ 2.7k

what the hell am I doing here in the golden dark? feeling like I’m someone else who looks the part I built up barricades to block my heart cause I don’t wanna fear you

He leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms up and clasping his hands behind his head, arching his back slightly. With his eyes closed it could be any time of day. He inhaled deeply and pretended for a moment that he was nowhere. He even gave himself a few extra seconds, indulging in the quiet that was the office at night. If only he could feel so peaceful in the right moments—before sleeping perhaps. When he opened his eyes all he could see was the reflection of his office light in the black windows. There hadn’t been daylight for hours. He’d switched off the overhead lights in favor of the small desk lamp that pooled the light only in the area of immediate relevance. Everything beyond its reach faded in and out of existence as his focus fell deeply into the forms in front of him.

He pressed his elbows back as far as they would go, pulling up slightly on the base of his skull, stretching out a day’s worth of stress, countless hours spent bent over report after report. He never could have imagined that saving people would require so much paperwork. Reducing the chaos of the lived experience, the searches and the takedowns, the intricate patterns of dozens of personalities layering choices upon one another; it turned out to be quite difficult to do. It took him hours to wrap up cases, even with everyone doing most of their own reports. Which, through no fault of their own, wasn’t always the case. He usually ended up siphoning off a fair number of those reports in addition to his own.

He didn’t mind, he needed to go over everything, needed to make sure that any possible negative feedback that came back would fall to him and he would be prepared if it did. His team were his responsibility, he would be neglecting his duties if he didn’t ensure that things were handled properly. None of them needed the headache of administrative errors. He was good with details, good with forms, good with protocol. He would happily be the filter that saved them all the trouble of little errors even if it hadn’t been part of his job.

But that didn’t change the fact that it was eleven o’clock on a Wednesday and everyone else had gone home hours ago. Only the late night janitorial staff wandered in and out occasionally, nodding at him in silent greeting as they reset the offices to give the illusion of an endlessly renewable supply of fresh starts. People that didn’t stay late never gave this transformation a second thought. They left the office with full trashcans and small debris scattered on the old carpets, only to return the next morning to find a place untouched by human presence, metal fixtures shining and glass doors free of oily fingerprints. That was just how the world worked for them, generous with new beginnings. People who lingered knew better, that effort was put into the effect. Beginnings were never easy, never flowed so inevitably as the set and rise of the sun.

Hotch had been working late for many years, long before he was even in the BAU. He had learned in law school how to brew the coffee strong enough to stay up all night if need be. How the indoor lighting changed without the support of daylight, tinting the world a thin sickly green color without the natural light to round out the fluorescence. He only got worse about it once he joined the Bureau, the stress of the job causing old habits and old secrets to float to the surface. He compensated by working the hardest, doing the most, never allowing anyone to see him need things that other people needed. He could handle this job, this was all he ever wanted after all. To save the world. Or maybe, more modestly, to save the world of a few.

Now, with Haley gone, Jack with her, somewhere well out of his disastrous reach, there was no reason at all not to fully give in. No reason not to let his insomnia at least be productive. To let the latent self destruction that fueled his actions at least have a positive impact on the people he cared about. He could do that at least.

He rubbed his face with his hands, he was getting loopy. There was no reason to be letting his mind wander so far, there were still reports he could get through. Perhaps, as unlikely as the idea felt, he could even get ahead. He looked back down at the paperwork, letting his feet settle flat on the floor. The letters swam in front of him and he sighed, rolling his pen beneath his thumb, considering. He could probably make it another hour. He could get another pot of coffee into himself. He cast about for his mug, finding it empty on the shelf behind him. He sometimes kept it there to prevent his reports from acquiring telltale dark rings. Rolling back from the desk, he hooked the handle with two fingers and headed out to the kitchenette.

Wrapped up in making plans for what he could finish tonight and what could be left for the morning he was startled to find a light still on in the bullpen. He was certain everyone had gone home long ago. They’d each passed by his office, offering him an out as they made their ways home—perhaps their exit could be the motivation he needed to break out of his office, to head towards his own home. What they didn’t realize was that home was not better for him. Work was far better, far safer, with tasks to complete, a purpose. If he was smart he would stay at work forever.

So he waved to them as they checked out, giving them small smiles that, though imperceptible to strangers, they recognized as both apologies and well-wishes. He knew they worried, that they didn’t like to see him tied to his desk late into the night. They thought it was one of his many methods for making himself suffer but he didn’t have the heart to tell them that this was him making a good decision, this was him trying his very best. In his experience, nothing good happened at home.

He thought he remembered everyone leaving, each goodbye. But every day was the same and they all bled together so he must have missed one because he cannot deny the light down below. As he walked down the stairs, confused by the discovery that he was not as alone as he had been imagining, his tired vision focused better. He could make out dark blond curls and a darker sweater hunched over the desk in the middle of the room.

“Reid?” The name came out as a croak, he hadn’t spoken in hours and probably hadn’t had any water in that time period either. He cleared his throat and said it again, louder and closer to the other man than before. Reid’s head snapped up, expression as guilty as a child caught out of bed.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, eyes wide.

Hotch frowned, not because he was upset but because he was still a little disoriented and his muscles fell back into the most familiar actions.

“I—“ Reid ducked his head and started pushing papers together on his desk, shoving them haphazardly into a file folder. “I was just…” he trailed off, not really having intended on explaining himself. He was simply also startled and reverting to the familiar.

Reid explained compulsively, able to handle the world when parsed down to facts and numbers. He didn’t have a fact for why he had stayed so late, only a feeling and that he didn’t know how to explain. Nights had been particularly lonely recently so he had allowed himself to stay later and later, getting lost in his thoughts at his work desk. Even without people around there was a sense of occupancy, their faint impressions lingering in the air. Plus there was always Hotch up in his office. He didn’t actively think about him or what he was doing but he liked knowing the man was nearby. Hotch’s solid presence always made him feel more secure, less concerned with whatever might jump out at him from the shadows overlapping the world and his mind.

He couldn’t tell Hotch that, was far too embarrassed to admit that sometimes, even with all the lights on, it was too dark in his apartment. No matter the illumination, he couldn’t quite dispel the unease of the night when he was alone. It wasn’t always like this, sometimes he had enough brightness to spare. Recently, however, things had been hard. So much had been going on, he couldn’t quite pinpoint why but he knew he felt uneasy. Too much had changed, there was too much risk that the floor could still fall out beneath him at any moment. And it hadn’t been so long since he’d escaped the consequences of his kidnapping, his addiction, that he trusted himself to be able to manage too much more uncertainty. Backsliding was always a risk and right now the world tilted at a frightening grade. So he let himself stay late in the safety of familiarity, sometimes working but more often not, idly rereading the books he had brought in and forgotten around the office. Tonight he had actually started to doze off, which contributed to his shock upon being discovered.

Hotch continued to frown at him, watching as the thoughts raced across Spencer’s face. He noticed how deep the shadows were beneath his eyes, the way darkness pooled in the space below his cheekbones, as if they were concave impressions filled by seawater. He knew Spencer didn’t eat enough, was all too familiar with the ways too much coffee and not enough calories pinched the skin and exposed the fine lines of capillaries beneath the surface.

“Sorry,” Spencer repeated.

He looked genuinely ashamed and it made Hotch a little sad. Couldn’t Spencer see that he was just as guilty of whatever it was he thought he was doing wrong by being here? He made a conscious effort to soften his expression, to show the warmth he felt for the younger man. After having spent his entire life masking his emotions, protecting himself one of the only ways he could, it wasn’t always easy to show his affection. Especially not at this time of night, when all he could do was cling to his walls and hope to find himself still on solid ground when the sun rose. Spencer wasn’t looking at him, too caught up in his own maze.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Hotch said, trying a different tactic. He was smart, he knew not to make it a demand or a comment on Spencer’s health. It was only an invitation, firm enough for Spencer to know he meant it, that it was not just a pleasantry or an obligation he’d rather avoid. A hand extended, an offer of easy company to pass through a little more of this unwanted time. Spencer looked up from where his fingers were worrying at the corner of the file in front of him and smiled shyly. Hotch smiled back, a real smile that scrunched up his dark shining eyes.

“Give me five minutes to close up,” he said and turned back toward his office. As he packed his briefcase, his heart felt like it had been wrapped in a soft blanket. He didn’t bother questioning it—who didn’t like finding someone to commiserate with when they’d only expected more of the lonely dark?

*

Their late night meals became a regular occurrence. Not every night but once, maybe twice a week, they found themselves the last ones in the office. They fell into a rhythm, each learning to read more from the other’s subtle cues. They almost always went to the same place, a 24-hour diner near the office with deceptively strong coffee and a seemingly endless variety of pancakes. Hotch rarely ordered food, though he encouraged Reid to get anything he wanted. He accepted bites of whatever the younger man ordered, happy enough to reciprocate the excitement over strawberry rhubarb or cinnamon blueberry pancakes.

They talked about inconsequential things, mostly Hotch listening as Reid spun out information on whatever topic was on his mind that day. Reid, for his part, made mental note of the things Hotch responded to and had opinions on. Spencer sought out more information in that vein to bring up. He loved to talk, sure, but what he loved more was to discuss. During the day there was rarely time to let his thoughts wander so freely. It was a dream to have someone there, following along and challenging him with questions, building up new conclusions.

On the nights that followed difficult days, when they were both too stubborn to order anything of substance, they drank their coffees and avoided looking at each other too directly. Those nights they were both tied up in their own thoughts, islands separated by more than just distance, but there was something undeniably pulling them together. It was probably just the natural consequence of having opposite dominant sides but they mirrored each other perfectly across the table. Once, they both happened to reach for their mugs at the same time and the backs of their hands brushed against each other. They each noticed but responded differently. Hotch repressed any reaction, pretending the quick touch of bony knuckles and cool skin hadn’t registered. Maybe it hadn’t. Reid, on the other hand, jumped as if shocked, sloshing the hot coffee into a puddle on the table. This only flustered him more and he yelped at the sting of the liquid and the sting of embarrassment. It wasn’t like they’d never touched before. But here, in this nowhere time they’d constructed, it felt different. In his mind that brief touch became nails dragging across his skin, impossible to ignore. But he pretended the mug was too hot and Hotch didn’t argue, quick to assist with napkins and sounds of agreement to accompany Spencer’s half-coherent excuses.

When their meals were done, mostly cleaned plates of syrup and crumbs stacked to one side, they hesitated before standing up. Hotch always offered to give Reid a ride home, Reid always declined, insisting he could get there himself. This led to Hotch giving him a doubtful look and insisting that it was no trouble. Reid, secretly wanting a ride the whole time, struggled to argue for his self-sufficiency a little longer before giving in. It became a silly thing, both of them knowing exactly how the argument ended but they held onto it for some reason. It was a part of their ritual now, an important piece of the night. It kept this, whatever this was, contained, strictly occasional, random even. Not something they planned for, not something they looked forward to.

Hotch waited for Spencer to get in the door of his building before driving away. He knew it wasn’t necessary, Spencer was a grown man and a trained FBI agent with a weapon. Still, it made him feel better to see him safely inside. Sometimes he thought he would feel even better if he could walk Spencer all the way to his front door. But he knew that would be asking too much. As it was, the nights when they shared this extra hour or two together, extended further by the drive home, had been giving him more than he could have imagined. He wouldn’t dare impose himself further. The brittle excuse of safety would crumble if he were to start following the other man inside. He was not ready to find out what that would mean. He smiled unconsciously as he drove to his apartment. For now, it was enough that he had found companionship on these late nights when he would otherwise be slowly, meticulously, working his way into the grave.

~Part 2~

#Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #hotchreid #beginnings

[wowitsel]

meeting the team

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

masterlist

Summary: You and Spencer have a big age gap, and when you meet the team, they have some things to say.

Fem! Reader

Word count: 1.5k

WARNINGS: age gap relationship (13 years), arguing

Category: angst to fluff

As you close the clasp on your necklace, you’re finally all dressed and ready for dinner with your boyfriend’s infamous team. You and Spencer had been dating for 7 months, although both of you had been very hesitant to let each other meet the important people in each other's lives, because of the obvious age difference between the two of you. With him being 33, and you being 20, there was bound to be some judgment from some people. Because everything went relatively smooth with your friends and family, you were feeling pretty confident heading into this dinner.

As you walk out of your shared room, you see Spencer standing near the front door, holding the car keys in his hand. He silently hands them to you while he says, “Can you drive? Please bub?”

“Fine, but you owe me. You know you're not the only one who hates driving.” You replied as you kiss him on the cheek and rush out the door.

“Well then, thank you, sweetie. Now hurry! We’re going to be late!” He tells you.

You chuckle at him, get in your car, shut the door, then start driving.

+++

You finally arrive at Rossi’s “mansion”, a whole five minutes late. You were not fazed by this, but it was safe to say that Spencer was. You moseyed out of the car, not in any rush, but then he nearly shouted, “C’mon! We’re already late Y/n!”

“Hey, calm down Spence. I’m sure we’re not the only ones late.” You said to him, but it was safe to say that you were very wrong.

+++

When the two of you walked in the door, you saw all the people that Spence had told you about, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, and Alex Blake. All the eyes were on you.  And you knew exactly why. Your age gap wasn't exactly a secret, seeing as you looked around your own age, but you had assumed that Spencer had told them about it.

“Welcome, Reid! And umm…” David Rossi said as he struggled for a name.

“Uh, It 's Y/n.” You said awkwardly as you went to go sit down at the table.

“Well I’m David Rossi, It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, I know… Spencer told me all about you guys.”

You could cut the tension with a knife, but nevertheless, JJ propositioned you and Spence, “So, Spence, Y/n, do you two want some wine?”

When Spencer declined, everyone was quick to comfort him, remembering his past with addiction, but then you had to decline: “Umm no thanks. I’m underage”.

“Don’t you think you’re too young for Reid?” Morgan inquires.

“You can’t even drink yet. Are you sure you should be dating him?” Hotch asks.

“Shouldn’t he be with someone closer to his own age?” JJ questions.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed with all the questions, you burst out, saying, “Hey! I’m 20, not 16, I'm plenty mature, and I’m not some teenager who will always act irrationally.”

“Actually babe, the prefrontal cortex, which deals with emotional reactions, isn’t fully developed until 25-” Spencer stops when he sees the look on your face.

There is an overwhelming silence that ensues until Blake decides to break the ice, and try and diffuse the tension: “So, Y/n, where do you go to college?” Assuming that you went to college because of your age.

“Actually I didn’t go to college.” You reply.

You take a deep breath, and then begin to go on a long rant about the elephant in the room: “Listen, I can hear what’s going on inside all your guys’ heads right now. And I get it. You’re thinking, ‘How wrong could this girl be for Spencer Reid? She’s 13 years younger than him, and doesn’t have any fancy degrees.’ And you're right about all those differences. But you’re wrong about me being wrong for him. Yeah, I may only have a high school degree, but I’m smart enough to know what Spence needs, and It’s me, and I also know what I need, and It’s him. So think what you want about our age gap, but we love each other, and nothing you do, can stop that.”

The room seemed like a sauna, seeing as you were fuming, steaming with anger. You quickly pushed your chair back, and stormed out of the room, heading to your car. You knew you were being childish, and overdramatic, but you couldn't help yourself. You knew that you were just proving their point, but that didn’t change anything. You just sat there and sulked in the car, until you heard the door open.

Spencer came and sat down in the car, and you two just sat in silence, which he then broke when he said, “You know we have to talk about it eventually right?”

“Yeah, I know. Just sit with me here for a while.” You sighed out.

+++

When the two of you got home, you both got ready for bed, and then, had some serious pillow talk.

“I’m sorry for all of that at dinner, bub. I was just so angry and emotional. I guess that just proves their point.” You admitted to him.

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. They were the ones out of line. You were right.”

“Thanks, Spence.” You told him with a small smile.

“What happened after I left?” You inquired.

Having an Eidetic memory, he recited exactly what he said to the team after you had left:

“Are you guys kidding me? I finally bring my girlfriend to meet you guys and all you do is berate and integrate her? I love that girl. She understands me. She knows what I need, even when I don’t even know. And she does this without being a profiler. She’s just that amazing. Yes, we may have thirteen years between us, but that means nothing to me. Did you guys even notice how much happier I became 7 months ago? Did you even care enough to notice? You guys have to learn that you don’t know everything about me and my life.”

After he told you what he said, you were sort of shocked. Spencer was never the person to loudly lash out in anger. Granted, he wasn’t the best at hiding his emotions, but when angry, he tended to be more serious and quiet than loud.

He told you, “I just got so mad at them, bub. You are my life and my everything. I just wanted them to like you, but then they were being so rude to you, baby, I couldn’t handle it.”

“How did the team react? You curiously asked.

“They were pretty shocked, I’d say. It was out of character for me, I guess.” Spencer replied while running his fingers through your hair.

“Well thanks for defending me. I love you” You said as you slowly drift off to sleep.  

Spencer looks down at you sleeping and smiles to himself. He is reminded why he said all those things to his team and is reminded of just how amazing and happy you make him feel. He gives you a kiss on the forehead, before drifting off, himself.

+++

The next day you decided you were going to bring Spencer lunch, you knew that you would have to face the team, but you and Spencer desperately need the time together.

As you walked into the BAU headquarters, you felt a sense of dread upon you. But that all went away when a certain Penelope Garcia saw you. She rushed over to you, pulled you in a hug, and profusely apologized for everything that had happened last night.

“I am so sorry for last night. You seem like such a nice girl, and aghhhh I can't believe we said those things. I’m so sorry, again.” Penelope blurted out.

“Hey, It’s ok. It’s not like it was you were the one saying those things right?” You replied very wearily.

“Yeah… well, either way, I am so sorry!”

You then see Spencer at his desk and decide to head over there, but before you can, the rest of his team corners you, and bombards you with apologies.

“Hey, I'm really sorry about that.”

“You didn’t deserve any of that”

“You really make Reid happy, and that's all I really want”

Those were some of the many things that you heard. You weren’t sure what to do. You weren’t sure if you could forgive and forget. But then something in you clicked, and you knew what to do.

“You know, I was really upset, but you guys are Spence’s family, so I really want to get along. So why don’t we start over?” You said as the team looked at you, a bit confused.

“Hi! I’m Y/n. Dr. Spencer Reid’s girlfriend.”

+++

So, from that moment on, the team made it a priority to get to know you, for who you really were, not just from their predispositions about you.

It was going well. And everyone was happy.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction

[leahseclipse]

It’s always colder on your own

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst/ comfort

Warnings: SPOILERS OF S2 EP15-18, mentions of addiction, murder, kidnapping, rape (just in a sentence), drugs, traumatic experience, usual cm stuff

Summary: Old memories haunt the BAU's genius when a case involving addiction is handled by the team.

Requested by @imagining-in-the-margins​ ; based on this request:

Hurt/Comfort where there is a case involving addiction and the following happens: 

Reader: Are you alright? 

Spencer: Hm? Oh. Yeah, I-I'm fine. 

Reader: Okay. 

Reader: You know it's okay if you're not, right? 

Spencer: What? 

Reader: It's okay if you're not okay.

A/N: Its aaaaaaa I'm writing another request for imagining-in-the-margins— that's wowie- 

Oh and btw, for the mentions of the verse of the bible; I did some research about it based on the ones that Spencer recited, so I'm sorry if I accidentally made some mistakes, I unfortunately don't know much about it ^^

A/N (2); At some point of the story, when you’ll see text then [...] and text again, the “[...]” is the parts Spencer haven’t been listening to, he was distracted.

I hope you will like it, i tried lmaoo

Word count: 4.8k

__________________

It's just a little bit lonely in this home, it's always colder on your own, my darling I, I let the seasons change my mind. — Ricky Montgomery, This December

__________________

Spencer hasn’t felt that way for a long time, for way too long. 

That feeling seemed weird, but strangely familiar.

Although it had been a while since it had happened, he never really forgot about it; it stayed; buried deep inside his thoughts. 

He didn’t think that he’d have to deal with it again; well, he’s only dealing with his own problems, because it wasn’t about him this time; it was about the case, specifically, about the unsub.

Spencer had never thought the case would have turned out to be that way; it didn’t seem like it at all at first, he would have qualified it as normal- as the cases they had worked on before this one didn’t affect him personally in general- ,but none of the case the bureau works on are normal, you truly have to be mentally prepared for it because it never is normal, there always is a deeper meaning, and when the reason is discovered, it isn’t really pleasant most of the time, to the point everyone in the room had wished not to see it, but it isn’t very surprising anymore when you’ve been working there for more than ten years, you get used to it, eventually.

He wished that he could have said that he had moved on, but it never was the case, he didn’t forget these days, when he had thought that he wouldn’t make it out alive; and he almost didn’t. He had died there, probably for less than ten minutes as he didn’t suffer permanent brain damage from the lack of oxygen; but what had probably caused it was the dilaudid.

It had been injected into his veins, multiple times without his consent, for the only reason that it would make him feel better- which did not, considering what he had to go through after it happened.

He still regrets what he did after the incident; he snapped at Emily; thought of using dilaudid again: he clearly wasn’t himself, he didn’t even recognize himself whenever he was in front of a mirror.

Addiction stuff never goes away, and even though he didn’t forget, he didn’t think much about it daily, just when the subject would come up, or if he’d see or hear something that would remind him of it, but never the  thought of the matter had been that important until now. It never triggered him a lot when he thought of it, not until a case bringing it up was taken in by the team.

It had been exactly five days, four hours, and nine minutes since they had begun working on it, but if he’d be counting the time he had been working on it, it’d be less than that. He hasn’t been focusing well since the discovery of the addiction concerning the unsub had been brought up.

Why is it impacting me like that? It had never been that way before, so why did it stay since? I never brought much attention to it to the point of thinking of it non-stop. I always managed to distract myself, try to control my emotions, so why didn’t it work today? 

The only person who could- almost - make it go somehow go away was y/n. He’d look at her, and he’d be able to escape these thoughts for a moment as the only thing he thought about was her. 

Spencer could describe her as his guardian angel, he can't lie about it, she saved him.

He doesn't know what he'd be doing if she wasn't here; and now that he thinks about what happened with Hankel, he can't imagine that if he hadn't made it out alive, he wouldn't have met her, she wouldn't have met him; and the only way she could have known him was through memories, and pictures. 

Spencer would have been nothing but a frozen memory.

It sends chills to his spine whenever he thinks about it, the fact that he would have died at 25. 

He can’t keep thinking about it, as it isn’t good to remain in the past; but now he’s just stuck in them, he can’t really describe what he’s feeling, but he can definitely say that it's clearly not doing any good to his mental health; it’s ruining him.

But clearly he doesn't want to tell the others and add more problems on top of the ones they already have with the case, and eventually in their lives.

Spencer doesn’t want to feel like a burden to the others, it’s been more than 10 years since it happened and to him, he’s supposed to have left some of the tension that was crushing him, it had been supposed to at least go away, a bit, to the point it didn’t ruin his health; he doesn’t know if he should talk about it, or if he even wants to.

He knows that they’ll understand, he knows that they never judged him, and will never do it; but what if they don’t understand? He doesn’t even know why it appeared now, he doesn’t know what triggered him that much to the point of being in this state of mind. He always figures out everything, and now he can’t even solve his own problems.

Everyone says that no one knows you better than you do, but I guess that this time the ‘theory’ hasn’t proven itself to be true apparently.

Something refrains him from talking; but he doesn’t know why.

If he talks about it with y/n, it may or may not solve it, but it could release some pressure, perhaps. It’s not confirmed, but it could.

Now that he thought about it, were the thoughts that distractive to the point that he may have forgotten why he felt like that in the first place?

He remembers that stress can affect how memories are formed. When stressed, people have a more difficult time creating short-term memories and turning those short-term memories into long-term memories, meaning that it is more difficult to learn when stressed.

It could have been that, but how? He doesn’t forget stuff. 

He never does.

But, now that he thinks about it, is he looking at a reason when it is only right in front of his eyes? When it could only be his brain that reacted when the subject came up?

Spencer always figures out stuff, even what’s going on in his own mind; 

So why does he feel like he can’t do anything? 

Anything but watch himself sink down.

Is he trying to avoid it, doesn’t he want to solve it, or is he too afraid to face the truth?

Well, a part of him doesn't want to admit it, he could say that.

He doesn't want to face it, he doesn’t want to plunge the knife deeper than it already is. He doesn’t know, or can’t talk about it because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to explain , make the person he’s talking to understand his feelings, or even manage to get the courage to talk about it, to not get stuck in a middle of sentence because he suddenly freaks out, or doesn’t know what to tell anymore.

He hoped that it’ll get better. 

It could;

Or it couldn’t.

He’ll try to think about it later. It already was late enough, he wouldn’t get much sleep, so he’d better go now.

Spencer made his way to the entrance of the hotel room he shared with y/n, wondering if she still was awake; as she liked to go over the cases sometimes before going to sleep; but she wasn’t this time, she was laying on her side, the white blanket on top of her legs.

He made his way in the room, carefully closing the door not to wake her up; as she must have been drained of all the energy after the long day they’ve had;

He understands her, it really is exhausting, especially when the case goes nowhere. They didn’t manage to get much today, except...the addiction stuff.

Spencer would have normally felt relieved to have found a lead, even the smallest, but that lead wasn’t the one he would have wanted to find. He did want to find something else, but they weren’t appropriate thoughts, you can’t wish to find out he was a rapist or a murderer either.

Either it’s addiction, murder, kidnapping or rape stuff, neither is acceptable to wish for it to happen instead of what happened.

Neither.

He wishes he could erase it from his mind, at least, not remember it fully; but with that eidetic memory of his, that isn’t possible.

His eidetic memory is a blessing and a curse at the same time.

The curse part of it isn’t the best, it even describes itself by the definition of curse.

It always makes you remember the memories you certainly don't want to think about; and for Spencer, it’s literally his whole life, so he does want to not have it anymore most of the time because of that.

Unfortunately, that isn’t possible either.

If only it could, that’d allow him to rest better, especially now.

He made his way to the bed to the side next to the window; y/n had remembered that Spencer preferred to be on the side of the window. 

Gosh, he loves her for that.

It’s a small detail, but still, he appreciated it that she thought of it.

Thinking about her, he wonders if she did notice or not; because even though they don’t profile each other, y/n always tries to make sure he’s okay without pressuring him. 

So, if she did notice that time, she may not be talking about it because she possibly wasn’t sure whether he would react well or not; she knows that it’s a sensitive subject, and she didn’t want to trigger him or be in bad terms, but only if she knew that he wouldn’t ever do that.

He couldn’t yell at her, she’s the reason he’s here, the reason he stayed for. If he knew that five years after his arrival she’d enter the bureau, he would have fought every single day to survive and meet her, especially when he was with Hankel. He wouldn’t have given it up if it was for her.

He appreciated the team too, they were a second family to him; but he also would have liked to have the love of his life to fight for that day.

Spencer was relieved that she had arrived a year after it happened, he wouldn’t have wanted her to see him like that, he knew that she couldn’t have managed to think about anything, her mind would be fuzzy, she wouldn’t have managed to separate the right thoughts from the bad ones. He would have been relieved that it didn’t happen in front of her eyes, not the actual thing. 

He wouldn’t have preferred that to happen at all, considering the problems that it caused after it, and still from that day. He still thinks that it was his fault, even if the team made him know it wasn’t at all; but he shouldn’t have split up.

Both JJ and him could have died; JJ could have been badly hurt because of the dogs, if they attacked her, and spencer could have died there if Tobias or whatever it was, didn’t chose to try to resuscitate him; if he would have made him go in his own grave he had dig, or if he has shot before he managed to get his gun to shoot him in the chest.

He still remembers the look on his face.

Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, he probably wouldn’t have forgotten it. It terrified him.

He had shot him before hankel managed to, and he fell to the floor, as Spencer kneeled beside him, looking at his terrified and disturbed eyes.

“You killed him."

“Tobias?” He asked, as he noticed the brightness of the flashlights from his peripheral view; and heard the distant voices, probably calling his name. He didn’t pay much attention, from the state and mindset, and his mind being...well, trying to focus on the man in front of him.

“Do you think I’ll get to see my mom again?” he slightly raised his voice, looking at Spencer. 

“I’m sorry.” Spencer had admitted.

And that was the last words he had probably heard, before his eyes froze as life left his body; his chest rising a final time, as his last breath dissolved itself in the cold air.

It wasn’t until several people had gathered around the area, Hotch lowering himself to Reid’s level in order to pick him up.

A feeling of relief had washed itself over him, he hadn’t realised that his living nightmare had- now that he thought about it- somehow came to an end.

He didn’t think he’d do it once, but he had hugged hotch; as Hotch gave him a pat after he had wrapped his arms around his upper back.

He had understood what he had said when Hankel had asked him who he’d chose to kill, after he had chose Hotch,

"He’s a classic narcissist; he thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team.

Genesis 23:4; let him not deceive himself and trust in vanity, emptiness, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense.

When he had said this; he had messed up on purpose; his memory didn't fail him; he had recited the verse 'job 15:31', not genesis 23:4. He had hoped for them to understand the "mistake" he had done, hoping that one of them would know the real verse.

I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may bury my dead out of my sight “

Something had probably clicked in their minds, allowing them to discover the location Reid was at, or close to.

After that, he had gone to hug JJ, who had begun stepping towards him; before breaking the embrace as he reassured her that it wasn’t her fault after she had apologized.

That’s when he thinks that he messed up, what caused him to struggle even more. 

He had asked for a moment, to be alone; and shortly stepped towards Tobias’s cold, lifeless body, reaching out for his pocket to take the two dilaudid vials; shoving them in his pocket in a single move- possibly to not draw attention by taking his time if they were watching him-, before standing up, crossing his arms, each in the crook of the other.

He won’t lie to himself, the next days weren’t the best he had; the wound was fresh, so obviously he wasn’t in his right mind; he kept-

Spencer. 

Stop.

You’ve done enough damage to yourself.

He had put his hand on his forehead, before crashing on the bed, close to y/n to feel her warmth; hoping it could allow him to put his mind to rest.

Don’t think about it.

Just stop. It’ll be by constantly thinking about it that it’ll keep ruining you.

Spencer thought that it could- in a way- stop it, he didn’t really know what to do and think about at his point.

He closed his eyes, in an attempt to finish the rest of the night calmly.

-------

Spencer had woken up surprisingly early, way before the usual hour they'd go to work. 

The night wasn't awesome, but okay...ish.

He had taken a lot of time trying to get his thoughts away from his head, but when you're alone, the task isn't easy.

It's you, and your thoughts. 

Nothing else.

There wasn't anything to distract him as y/n was asleep; he wasn't going to wake her at 4am because he couldn't sleep, you certainly don't wake up someone for that.

He had woken up by exactly 5:45, not bothering to look at the window as he knew daylight wouldn't come at this time of the day, more around 7.

Obviously, he hadn't forgotten last night's subject, as much as he wished he could have.

But you know...eidetic memory stuff again.

As he looked as y/n lying next to him; Spencer had noticed that she hadn't apparently woken up yet; she was on her side, her face facing his. 

He had wondered if she managed to get a good night of sleep; she'd often get stressed because of the case, and as the case had contained something she knew concerned Spencer -in a way-, she must have been stressing about it.

She always put others before herself, if one of her friends wasn't feeling well, she'd abandon the activity she was up to, and focus on the person; no matter what, even if it meant staying for two hours to listen and help the one she was talking to.

She was amazingly caring.

Too caring to the point that Spencer would ask himself if he ever deserved her: he wouldn’t have thought that he’ll ever meet a person like that, acting so nicely with him, plus interested in a relationship, that is now going on for two years; that was...unimaginable. 

He liked being with her, a lot. She was a bit shorter than him, so he’d find it cute whenever she’d struggle reaching the top shelf; he didn’t know why he’d find it so cute: but it was like that. He’d go to help her, even if she wouldn’t ask, he’d do everything to make her happy, he’d never been in a relationship before her, so he didn’t really quite know what to do not to make her uncomfortable, not loved; he was so awkward and wouldn’t stop rambling or stuttering whenever he’d see y/n.  

But she never saw him this way. She saw him as a normal person, talked to him as she would to the rest of the team; and would often come to talk, even if she didn’t have a reason to. She apparently wanted to hear Spencer rambling about facts, or answer some of the questions she had; and it never bothered him, she could have come for anything, even if it was just to say hello or ask him to take a paper she had faxed. 

As long as he could see her, hear her voice, as long as she would be near him, it would be okay. 

He had hoped for a while to be more than just friends, but the introverted side he had made him keep his feelings stuck inside, with no possibility to let them go out as he didn’t even have the courage to. That decision would have been something he would have regretted for a while if Ihedidn’t choose to say it that day at the bureau.

Well, It all was in the moment, it wasn’t intentional, not at all, it slipped out, and he regretted it at first, as his first thought was her rejection due to her non-shared feelings towards him. 

“Hey Reid, you ready today? We don’t have any case for now, but we still have the paperwork from last day.”

“Oh- you’re talking to me? Sorry I- I thought of something. Could you repeat?”

“You? Distracted ? That isn’t surprising.”

“It’s rare, i’m paying attention most of the time.”

“Well you didn’t this time genius. Do you have a reason to defend yourself?” She said, in a playful tone.

“You.”

“...what?”

“I- I just, uh...it’s been a while since I wanted to tell uh…”

“...wanted to tell what?”

“That I- appreciate you; but not only in a…friendly way, it’s more than that. If you...get it. I...god, I’m probably making you feel uncomfortable right now.”

“Wait, you’re serious about this?”

“I’ve never been more serious than now.” Spencer said, not even stuttering, proving how serious he was in this moment.

“Then I feel the same, if that can answer your questions,.”

And that is how they began dating; with only eleven words; she had relieved him. He had been washed of all of his fears, now replaced with comforting thoughts. 

He had never forgotten this sentence. If he didn't have an eidetic memory, he would have immediately grabbed a post-it not to forget it.

The tiniest things that had set their relationship had been the biggest ones that he cherishes the most.

Spencer likes her so much that he's always afraid to lose her whenever they're on a case; he always has to go with her.. Although she always was with the others, he couldn't let anything happen to her without being able to be here to protect her.

She doesn't want her to see him getting hurt either; even though she insists to be with him; it's funny; the fact that they want to protect each other all the time.

But now, he did want to protect her, he didn't want her to worry about problems she has yet to worry about. 

We have enough problems.

I don't need to add more.

It won't do any good.

I'll solve it on my own.

Spencer crossed the door; as a group of officers and the team standing in the middle were. Hotch was walking through the room enunciating the profile of the unsub they were looking for, after managing to have enough information to form one.

Each word, each characteristic, would, or not, lead to the matter that had filled him for a week; he had tried for multiple times not to let the case reach him, it rarely did, and in that case, as it was mentioning a sensible matter, it wasn’t the most pleasant week at work, not really the kind of week he had imagine he’d had; especially not a one including a heavy mention of addiction with drugs that the victims had, and possibly the unsub as he knew specific types, and how to dose them enough to give a fatal dose. He either used them personally, or simply had knowledge of them: this fact couldn’t be confirmed yet.

“The unsub we’re looking for is most possibly a white male in his 30-40s, he [...] a stable situation, based on the frequency of the attacks, most of them being within working hours, and for a [...], killing people that don’t correspond to the type of victims he does his usual m.o; he’s perturbed, he knows people [...] ease in public, and probably may feel easily threatened and perturbed if someone [...], subjects that may trigger traumatism, causing him to become dangerous, and harm fatally other people if not controlled-”

Spencer hadn’t even listened to half of what he had just said, what he had been thinking about was taking more place in his mind than any other case would whenever he’d work to analyze it.

He had let himself get distracted, not daring to pay attention to his surroundings, to the point he hadn’t even seen y/n standing next to him, a worried expression plastered on her face. 

Is it that obvious?

Is it obvious to the point she could notice it without profiling me? Or has she…?

“Spence, I think that we should head out for a moment.” She quietly said, grabbing the sleeve of his cardigan. “You don’t look okay. Are you alright?”

Am I?

“Uh...yeah, I-I’m doing fine, just a bit tired.”

“Everyone is, but I can clearly see it isn’t the same type.” She tightened her grip on his sleeve, pulling him out of the room.

After she had managed to find an empty room, y/n had opened it, pulling Spencer inside as she closed the door, before closing the blinds that could allow someone from the exterior to see the room. She had noticed the lock on the door, not hesitating to pull it towards the right to lock the room. 

She looked at him, eyes tearing up. She placed a word before he had even gotten to.

“Spence, you know that...it’s okay if you’re...not okay, right?” She asked, hesitant.

“What...what do you mean?”

“You can tell me, it’s okay if you’re not okay. There is, no shame, to not be.” She said, as she sat on the seat next to her, Spencer following her action a second later. “..since when is it bothering you?” She placed a hand on his, rubbing circles with her thumb.

“When we...found out about the addiction matter, not long after we began working on the case. I don’t know why I stayed stuck on this.”

“Why didn’t you talk about it? If you had preferred to talk to someone else, I wouldn’t have been mad if you had gone to JJ, I know you guys have always been close.”

“I just thought that...I would bother everyone by adding my problems on top of the ones we already have. And I...didn’t know how to explain it.”

“And you didn’t want me to worry, right?” She asked, as he nodded. “I know that I worry about anything, but if it was about that, you know that I would have listened, and did my best to help, even though I wasn’t here when it had occurred. But I want you to know that I’m not mad about the fact you didn’t talk about it; I understand you.”

“I know you do. But, I was afraid you wouldn’t get it, or overstress because of it, because god knows that you stress about the tiniest thing,” He joked, earning a small chuckle from y/n. “But I just...kept thinking about it. The more I’d tell myself to stop thinking about it, the more it’d stay. I didn’t tell you everything about it, you just know about the livestream, and what the team had seen; and I...you know the next part, I had a problem with dilaudid; I had attempted to drug myself again, in the bathroom of an office, not long after. If Hotch hadn’t called me, I think that I would have done it.” 

“But you didn’t, you managed to get the strength to stop. And you still have it now. We’re also here to give you the strength you need, support, whatever includes helping you. We’ve always been here, it won’t ever change. And even if we have a case, we’ll find a minute to talk with you. You never, but never, bothered us.”

“You sure…?”

“Absolutely. So here’s what we’re gonna do, we’re going to go back to the room; and go through the case. I would have wished that I could tell you to completely stop working, but we have to catch him before he does more damage. But after it’s done, we’ll get back home; talk about it, stay together, whatever could make you feel better. Because it’s okay to ask for help when you really think you need it, there’s no shame. I know that it’s complicated for you to talk about your problems in general, but if you feel like you need to talk to someone, we’ll be there, all of us.”

“Yeah, I know. But, I feel like how I felt a few days after it happened, when I was in the room with him, every single word, what he did to me, and...when I shot him. I still can’t erase the look he had on his face; I just…” He inhaled, wiping a stray tear from his eye. He wasn’t the type to get emotional in front of other people, but when he was with y/n, it didn’t matter. “I...still think that I shouldn’t have split up with JJ, she could have gotten killed by these dogs if she didn’t have ammo. I still think that it’s all my fault.”

“It’s not Spencer. I know you still feel guilty, she felt guilty as well too when you got abducted; and even though I know you can’t erase what happened, everything is over, both of you are safe. I’m not a good talker, I know, but, to resume, I’m gonna help you with what you’re going through, you’re not alone. You’ll even take a week off if you need one, your health comes first; okay?” 

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Do you think you can go back, or do you need to go outside for a bit?”

“No, It’s ok, I can go back.”

“Okay, let’s go then.” She said, as she took his hand, their fingers interlocking: as Spencer felt the warmth of her hand against his skin. 

He liked feeling her warmth, it really was comforting, and would- somehow - chase the nightmares away, for a bit. 

He doesn’t believe that the pain will go away, his addiction problem never went away, even though he didn’t use any drugs anymore.

It won’t ever go fully, it’ll always stay, deep inside. 

But hopefully, her presence can possibly make it go away, make him forget, at least for while, 

So it won’t always be colder on his own.

__________________

Tags: @writing-in-april​ ; 

#criminal minds s2 ep15 #criminal minds #criminal minds cbs #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencersblog

[saeransangel]

Fine Line

Spencer Reid x Reader

*Trigger Warning*

Warnings: addiction(use of narcotics/opioids), swearing, angst

**This is in NO way condoning the use of drugs or glorifying/romanticizing addiction... Many of the things in here are based off personal experiences I’ve been through in the past. I know how draining and horrible it is. This is a vent piece for me. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with reading about drug use.

The reader starts to fall into a rough group of friends while occupying time when Spencer is away. As Spencer starts to catch on to her blossoming addiction, the reader admits she needs help.

Word Count: 2496.

You and your boyfriend, Spencer had finally gotten into bed together after a long day. He had just gotten back from a case in California and was completely exhausted. You on the other hand, were still recovering from a party you went to yesterday. You were told the night was fun, but it was all a blurred memory to you. After about three hours of sleeping together, the phone rings. It was Spencer’s cell.

“Hello?” He answered, his voice sounded tired and drained. You both knew it was the BAU calling. You sighed in annoyance. He had just gotten back, you haven’t gotten to spend any quality time together in two weeks and it was putting a strain on your relationship. Neither one of you said anything, but you could feel it. It was starting to feel different. The connection between you wasn’t as strong as it always had been, and that worried you. But you were too scared to bring it up. Not that there was ever time anyways.

“Okay, I’ll be right there.” Spencer said after a while. He hung up the phone and got out of bed, careful not to disturb you, though you were already awake.

“Spence, again?” You sighed.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I should only be gone a few days, then we can spend all week together.” He promised. You knew he was trying and it was just apart of the job, but recently it’s been too much. You’ve spent too much time away from him. 

“You said that last time, Spencer.” It came out more aggressive than you wanted and you instantly felt bad.

His eyes softened as he looked towards you. He sat down beside you and embraced you gently. “I really am sorry, Y/N. I love you so much, but this is my job.” He sounded so upset, knowing he hurt you. Slowly, you melted into his arms and wrapped your own around his slim figure.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just miss you so much when you’re gone.” You whispered, almost tearing up at the thought of being without him again. It might seem dramatic for only a few days, but he was your moral compass. It was hard without him around.

He kissed your forehead and gave you one last loving embrace before grabbing his Go Bag and leaving the bedroom.

As you lied back down into the now empty bed, you felt like you were sinking already. What was the point of this relationship if it was a constant revolving door of leaving and being together? Before you could get too deep into your thoughts, you heard a ping sound come from your phone. 

“Hey, Y/N, I know we just raged together last night, but I miss you so much already lol! Come to my place right now. Zoe is bringing the usual. It’s gonna be fun!!”

It was your friend Sam inviting you over for a party...at 2 am. You sat and stared at the message, wondering if it was a good idea to go. Your body still hadn’t fully recovered from last night, but you didn’t want to be alone tonight. You shot back a quick response and put some different clothes on that were fit for this type of party. As you headed out the door, your body was already feeling excited for the rush this night was going to give you.

When you arrived at Sam’s house, you took a deep and shaky breath. Was this really what you wanted to turn to? Finding comfort in a six hour euphoria? Whatever your better judgement told you, it was too late. You were already getting out of the car and walking up to the house that was flooding with people and blaring loud music. You stepped through the front door and took in your surroundings. Sam, Zoe and a few other people you recognized were sitting on the large sectional couch, passing a blunt around with each other.

“Y/N! You’re here!” Zoe shouted over the music. You approach the group with a vibrant smile. You took the blunt from Sam and took a long drag off it. The smoke filled your lungs. It felt good, you slowly started to relax.

“You look like shit.” Sam said bluntly. “What happened to you?”

A long sigh escaped from your lips. “I’m still a mess from last night I guess.” You replied trying to just laugh it off.

“It’s more than that, tell us what’s wrong?” She pushed. You didn’t really want to tell her, but at the same time you needed to vent. They were always there for you. Why was now any different?

“It’s Spencer. He’s always leaving me because he has to go fly across the country to do whatever it is he’s doing!” You didn’t mean for that to sound as selfish as it did, and you knew if Spencer ever heard you say that he would be crushed. He loved you unconditionally, and here you were acting self-centered and mean. “He’s means well though, I know he loves me. But it’s hard someti-”

Zoe spoke up. “Save it, Y/N/N. We understand.” You gave her an apologetic smile. You shouldn’t have said anything. Spencer is the best boyfriend you could ever ask for, even if he was gone more often than you would like, you loved him and he would never talk about you like this. The feeling of missing him was being overtaken by the guilt you felt from talking about him leaving. Tears welled in your eyes. You looked down to try and hide the fact that you were now a teary mess.

“Y/N/N, we’re here for you.” Sam said while rubbing circles on the small of your back. The music was blaring so loud you almost didn’t hear her. You recognized the song. CANT SAY  By Travis Scott. You smiled, remembering all the amazing ragers you went to with Sam, Zoe, and the others. 

Your reminiscing was cut short. You noticed Zoe placed a small bag on the table that everyone was sitting around. There where small, circular, white pills inside. Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Is that...” Your voice trailed off.

“Oxy? Yes, ma’am it is.” Zoe smirked. You instantly got the feeling you shouldn’t have come tonight. In the past you struggled with a lot of substance abuse issues. Opioids in particular. It started after a surgery, Valium, then  Hydrocodone, then it escalated to Oxycontin. You even rolled on molly every so often. But you went to rehab about three years ago. You were clean, apart from the occasional marijuana use which seemed to becoming more and more frequent.

“I don’t know if I should. I haven’t in years.” You try and protest. They didn’t seem to care. Zoe grabbed two out of the bag and held them out for you. Upon reflex, you opened your hand and watched as the two pills fell into the palm of your hand. The whole group was looking at you, waiting. Sam popped one into her mouth and swallowed it. She looked eagerly at you. Part of you didn’t want to throw all the years of sobriety down the drain, but the bigger part of you wanted to stop feeling the guilt and the loneliness you felt when Spencer was away.

You didn’t even remember putting them in your mouth, you just remember the feeling of them sliding down your throat. After about twenty minutes, you felt the effects of the narcotic. Your body felt light and weightless. Your thoughts were cloudy. Why were you even here? This is fun right? As you danced through the crowd with your friends, you felt a moment of euphoria as ypu forgot the reason you came here in the first place.

Two Days Later...

You woke up on a scratchy couch that was definitely not apart of your home. You took in your surroundings, head pounding. You were still at Sam’s house. You grabbed your phone to check the time. It was probably late the next day...

“It’s been two days?” You gasped. You shot up, looking for Sam. Her house was so big, you didn’t even know where to look. Luckily you didn’t have to go far. She was in the kitchen with Zoe and another guy named Jared. They all laughed and turned towards you as you walked in.

“Look who decided to wake up,” Zoe teased. 

You glared at her. “It’s not funny.” You spat. “How long was I asleep?”

“Only, like ten hours, chill.” Sam laughed awkwardly.

“I got here Friday night, its Sunday now.” You were growing impatient. So many questions raced through your mind.

“Yeah... we were together partying all weekend, are you okay?” Zoe urged.

“I don’t remember anything except for Friday night.” You admitted. Instinctively you checked your phone again. Your eyes widened. 

Missed Calls: Spencer Reid(16)

Upon looking further you found dozens of texts, to which you replied, “At Sam’s party!” You had no recollection of sending that.

Spence: What?! Why are you with her??

The most recent text was from a few hours ago.

Spence: Hey angel, I’m just checking in on you... You’ve sent me one text the past couple days. Are we okay? I love you so much. I’ll be home in a few hours. Please call me. 

Your heart broken into a million pieces. Your free hand covered your mouth in an attempt to stop the sobs from coming out of your mouth. You stared down and the phone in your shaky hands. He knew who these girls were. He knew they always were trouble and fueled your addiction in the past. You knew he was concerned for you. The thought of him being upset and not being able to see you was suffocating. Zoe and Sam rushed over to you right away.

“Hun, what’s wrong.” Sam pleaded with you. You didn’t want to be here anymore. You hated them for doing this to you. For doing this to Spencer. You hated yourself even more. You needed to get out.

“Get away from me.” You cried. Fighting there grip, you pulled away from them. You ran into the living room and sat on the floor, back leaning against the sofa.

The two girls followed you into the living room, worried looks strewn across their face. Before they could say anything, the doorbell rang. Sam paused before going to open the door.

“Spencer...” She exclaimed surprised. You looked up. The tears wouldn’t stop falling now.

“Y/N, where is she?” He said sternly and he pushed his way through the door. He looked around for a minute before his eyes finally fell on you. He immediately rushed over to you. The look in his brown eyes told you that he knew what you had done. You knew you looked like a mess. It was a dead give away.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer.” You sobbed. His warm arms wrapped around you so tightly you thought you couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t mind. You needed this. 

“You’re going to be okay, Y/N. We can get through this. I promise.” He whispered. You closed your eyes and melted into his comforting touch.

“Is she going to be okay?” Zoe pressed. “I mean, you keep leaving her to go do God knows what. Did you know that’s why she came here.”

Spencer’s grip on you loosened. He leaned back to get a good look at you, trying to see if it was true. NO. This was not his fault. Not after everything he’s been through. You’d be damned if you were going to let him think this was his fault too.

“Shut up.” You said venomously.  She shot you a confused glare. “Don’t you ever speak to him like that EVER!”

“What? I’m trying to defend you?” She shouted. You couldn’t believe her. You couldn’t believe yourself. Everything felt like it was spiraling.

“You’re not defending me. You’re trying to drive the one person that loves me away!” You were screaming now.

Zoe walked closer to you, she was in your face. “At least I care about you!” Her voiced boomed through the house.

“If you really cared about me you wouldn’t have gave me the fucking drugs in the first place.” You wailed. Spencer grabbed you arm. Your head whipped back to look at him. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. You let out a despondent sigh at the sight of him. You never wanted any of this. You just wanted him to stay. Now look what happened.

 Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed Spencer guiding you out the door. He put his arm around you, and without another word to Sam or Zoe, you got into his car.

It was silent for the whole car ride home. You were thinking of all the ways to apologize to him, all the reasons he had to leave you, all the reasons why you didn’t deserve him. When you both arrived back to his apartment, you broke down.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault. None of this is.” You sobbed.” It’s all mine. I’m sorry. I love you so much. Please, don’t lea-”

You were cut off by a pair of strong arms embracing you. How did you get so lucky to have a man like Spencer in your life? “Y/N, it’s okay.” He cooed.

“It’s not!” you cried, pushing him away. He looked confused and sad, which only made you cry more. “I’m supposed to take care of you. You’ve gone through so much with your job, your mom, everything. You don’t deserve this, Spence. I don’t deserve you.”

He examined your weak figure before giving you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. “If there’s one thing you have taught me, Y/N, it’s that it’s okay to need a little help sometimes. Recovery is not linear. Slip ups can happen. I know you didn’t want this, but I love you and I’m not going anywhere.” He declared. He slowly wrapped his arms around you again and you let him. He held you as you cried and he didn’t let go even when you stopped the relentless sobbing. His soft hands traced patterns on your back while he listened to your breathing regulate. 

“Nothing you could ever do would make me leave you.” He whispered.  “Because I love you. Nothing can change that.”

You kissed his neck delicately, amazed at how insanely lucky you were to have him around. “Thank you Spencer. I love you so fucking much.” He held you tighter, letting you know that you were safe and everything was going to be okay.

A tear slipped down your cheek. But this wasn’t from sadness. It was from adoration. You knew with your full heart that Spencer loved you, and he was going to get through this with you. One step at a time.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan imagine #jennifer jereau #jennifer jereau x reader #emily prentis #emily prentis x reader #criminal minds #request #request open #angst #spencer reid angst

[geniusgub]

north//chapter nine

i apologize from the bottom of my heart for this chapter taking so long!! school sucks and takes up so much time. so please enjoy all these words that i wrote! big plots coming up real soon!! also i apologize in advance for the amount of pov changes in this chapter lol.

genre: angst, fluff, smut

pairing: season 10 spencer reid x female oc

warnings: talk of childhood abuse, smut, alcohol consumption, guns, me not knowing anything about art

words: 10.2k

AMELIA

I’m practically drenched in sweat when I wake up, cocooned in Spencer’s arms with my face pressed into his neck. Spencer becomes a furnace during the night, and combining his body heat with his tendency to cuddle me for hours upon hours, waking up sweaty is a common occurrence. My nose scrunches up and I start my gentle trek to unravel from Spencer’s arms. Thankfully, his grip isn’t too tight and he lets me go, snoring away and tucking his hands under my pillow. 

I have every intention of getting up to go make breakfast before Spencer has to leave, but when I linger and let myself admire his face, I stop in my tracks. I revel in the beauty of his little button nose and his unruly eyebrows and his dimples, a different type of warmth spreading through my body. I resist the urge to reach forward and run my fingers over his face. He needs to get as much sleep as possible before he returns to work in a few hours. 

Work. I guess he has to go back to work. Our six weeks together were absolutely amazing and only made me fall deeper in love with Spencer. We switched from apartment to apartment for the first two weeks or so, spending most of our time watching movies, laying in bed, or sitting on the balcony as we share a blanket. And once Spencer was mobile again, we opted to go out more than we had been. We went to the grocery store, bookshops, dinners, a drive-in movie, and Spencer even took me to a planetarium. We stayed there for hours as Spencer rambled on and on and on about the stars and planets and constellations. I don’t think I retained any of the information he relayed but I didn’t care and I still don’t. I got to spend time with my boyfriend with my head on his chest as he hugged me as tight as he could and that is all that matters. 

But now he’s leaving and he will be returning to his insane job. He will be traveling for days at a time and at a moment’s notice, leaving me to stress over his well-being and safety. That’s a feeling that I don’t miss. I shake my head at my own intrusive thoughts, pulling away from my peaceful boyfriend. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and bury my face in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut as the horrible images of Spencer in the hospital resurface in my brain. I'm not even the one with the eidetic memory and I can still vividly remember how broken and weak he was after having three serious brushes with death in two days.

"Amelia?" I hear Spencer's voice behind me, the bed dipping as he rolls over. "What's wrong?"

I hastily wipe my cheeks and shake my head again, waving my hand. "Nothing, go back to bed."

I flinch when I feel Spencer's hand on my waist, his arms wrapping around my midsection, his chest pressing against my back so I'm sitting between his legs. "You're crying," his morning voice is undeniably sexy and raspy in my ear as he rests his chin against my shoulder. "Talk to me, please."

I place my hands on top of his where they rest on my stomach, intertwining our fingers and trying to remind myself that he's here and he's safe. But he won't be soon. He'll be off in the field and he'll be around the worst that society has to offer. People who kill without a second thought and don’t care if they take a federal agent and leave a sobbing, lovesick girlfriend behind. He faced three people like that and almost lost his life. It's a miracle he's even sitting here right now.

"Amelia?" He asks again, peering over my shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of my face. "Come on, talk to me. I don’t want you to cry."

"I just," I let my head fall back against his shoulder, wanting to be as close to him as possible, scooting my butt back until my body is completely flush against his, "I don't want you to go. I'm so scared you'll get hurt again and I can't- I don't wanna see you like that again, Spence, I can't-"

“Okay, okay, come here,” Spencer pats my thigh and scoots back against the headboard, opening his arms for me. I crack a smile, silently crawling into his arms and curling up against his chest. I can hear the steady rhythm of Spencer’s heartbeat in my ear, calming me down to the point where I almost fall back asleep. But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. I’ll fall asleep on top of Spencer, he won’t have the heart to move my sleeping body, and then he has to stay home from work. It’s a win for everyone, except maybe Spencer’s boss.

"I'm gonna come home to you," Spencer whispers, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "I always have. I mean, I got shot and I still came home, right?"

"Spencer, acknowledging your gunshot wound isn’t helping,” I lift my head and my eyes wander to his neck, seeing the mark that's there, no longer a wound or even a scab, just a scar that will likely take a long time to fade, if it does at all. "I’m always gonna worry. I still worry about what types of situations you'll get yourself into and how many people are dying and if you're in danger and if someone is targeting you. I’ll always be worrying about you, except for the moments when you’re right next to me.”

"I know," Spencer sighs, brushing my hair behind my ears. His soft touch sets my skin on fire, and every time his lips touch my skin, I shutter. "I know it's hard and I'm sorry that you have to deal with this alone. But you know that I'll call you as much as I can to check in while I'm away. I might not even get a case today and then we can be together tonight! You never know what could happen.”

"I just-" I pause again, resting my forehead against Spencer’s chin, breathing in the lingering scent of the body wash that I’ve caught sight of in his bathroom. I try to breathe it in as much as possible so I can remember it when he leaves, “I love you. I love you so much.”

Spencer grins. Every time I recite those beautiful three words to him, even after six weeks of telling him at least four times every day, he stills grins in the most adorable way. "And I love you too. Don't worry your pretty little head about me, though. Go to your studio and make some more of your beautiful art. You haven't exercised your creative side properly in almost six weeks and you need to get it all out."

"Text me," I completely ignore what he says, far too wrapped up in my anxiety. "Just text me if you get a case and text me all the time if you can't call me, just so I know-"

"I always do," Spencer cuts me off. "Don't stress out too much, Lia. I've got a gun and my team, that's all I need. I'll come home to you, don't worry."

My bottom lip quivers as more tears threaten to fall, and I grip Spencer's tee shirt in my fists. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Course," he lures me closer, pressing his lips to mine in a feather-light kiss. For whatever reason, the simple kiss calms me down. For a millisecond, it makes me forget that he's about to run into the belly of the beast yet again. The pain returns when we pull away, and I wish I could keep kissing him forever to keep him in my arms and protect him from the horrors he is about to go see. "Alright," Spencer sighs, his hands falling to my waistline, "I've gotta start getting ready or we won't have time to get coffee."

“And tea!”

“Yes, and tea for you.”

I pull away and climb out of his bed, running my fingers through my hair as I reach for my bag, stuffed full of clothes, setting it on the bed. Spencer silently climbs out and heads into the bathroom to shower, leaving me in the bedroom to change. My hands are still shaking but I try to calm myself. Spencer seems calm so why shouldn't I be? He’s the trained federal agent here, so I have nothing to worry about, right? He knows what he’s doing and he’s been doing this job for years. I don’t need to worry. Please stop worrying.

I'm tightening my belt just as Spencer is coming out of the bathroom fully dressed, running his fingers through his wet hair. He looks criminally attractive but I don't let myself get distracted for long, tying my shirt up and running my fingers through my curls to tame them just a bit. I sit on the bed and tie on my tennis shoes, seeing Spencer clipping on his watch, always over the cuff of his sleeve. When he cranes his neck to get his tie on, I see the scar again and I have to tear my eyes away before I start crying for the third time this morning.

"Are you gonna be here when I come back?" Spencer asks, moving to stand in front of me, my eyes raking up his body until our eyes lock. He’s smiling, almost like he’s excited to go back to the job that got him addicted to drugs and the job that got him shot twice, and the job that gives him constant nightmares.

"I can be," I stand, giving him a weak smile as I reach for my overnight backpack. I wordlessly toss open the bedroom door and pick up Spencer's messenger bag, handing it over to him as he follows me. I don't even wait for him before I leave the apartment, hearing him closing and locking the door behind us.

Spencer only catches up to me when we get onto the sidewalk outside, the welcomed warmth from the sun soaking into our skin. He captures my hand in his and doesn't let go, intertwining our fingers and squeezing. "Why do I get the feeling that you're mad at me? Did I say something?"

I tug on his hand and he comes closer, allowing me to rest my head on his arm as we walk, our pace slowing a bit. I don't have the proper words to express the utter fear I'm feeling. I've lost the people I love before and I can't let that happen again. If I lose Spencer then there's no reason for me to be on this earth anymore. I can’t keep dealing with the heartbreak. I've never loved anyone the way I love him and if that gets ripped away from me yet again, I don't know what I'd do. I can’t lose my family and the love of my life and expect to continue living my life. I wouldn’t be able to. 

"No," I answer his question weakly. I feel Spencer's eyes on me but I don't dare to look up at him, despite the way I crave to be comforted by the beauty of his eyes. "I’m not- no.”

"I don't want to go to work with you like this. I don't wanna leave you upset," he brings our hands up, pressing his lips to my knuckles. "And," he sighs dramatically, loudly, dropping our hands back down to our sides, "love, if this is too much for you and my job is too much, you don't have to stick around.”

I instantly freeze, my feet melting into the concrete sidewalk. "Are you breaking up with me? B-Because you think I can't handle the baggage that comes with your job?"

"No, no," Spencer shakes his head, standing in front of me and grabbing my cheeks. His forwardness would surprise me any day, but I’m stunned that he is willing to act like this and show any level of PDA on a public sidewalk while everyone is rushing to work. "I don't wanna break up with you, god no. But I love you and if you're in pain because of what I'm doing then I don't want you to go through that.”

"I don't wanna leave you. I'm not in pain, Spencer," I reach my trembling fingers forward and place them at his waistline, clutching the soft fabric of his cardigan. "I've lost people. And I love you so much. I don't wanna lose you like I've lost everyone else in my life but I don't wanna leave you. That's the last thing I wanna do. I just want you to be safe and I want you to come home to me, that's all I want."

"I will, I always will. But like I said, just go to your studio and focus on your work. I’ll text and call when I can, but I want you to worry about yourself. Do all the work you didn’t get to do when you were taking care of me. And thanks for that, by the way." Spencer brings his lips down to mine again, thumbs brushing against my cheekbones. I hold him there for longer than we probably should be kissing on a public sidewalk, but as people rush past us on their commute to work, I keep my focus on him. "Let's go, come on, I need my coffee and you need your tea."

Spencer grabs my hand again and pulls me along the sidewalk, dodging hurrying businessmen in tight suits. I'm glad Spencer doesn't wear suits to work, not like his unit chief. I'm sure he'd look incredibly attractive in them, but I like his style. Focus, Amelia. Your boyfriend is about to return to the job that got him shot. Stop thinking about his outfits and his sense of style. Get your head out of your ass.

Spencer orders both of our drinks and then brings me over to our normal booth, and I usually sit across from him, but today, I sit on the same side as him. He doesn't seem to mind, though, as he pulls his messenger bag off his shoulder and places his hand on my thigh. I lean my head onto his shoulder and let my eyes close, letting the warmth from the cup in my hand and Spencer’s hand on my leg spread to the rest of my body. 

"Are you nervous to go back?" I finally ask the question that's been on the tip of my tongue all morning. Well, maybe it’s not the only question I’ve been dying to ask. There are a million other questions that I could ask and none of them would feel right. Not to say that this one is the right one, but this one seems natural.

Spencer hums. "I try not to let myself get nervous because then I make mistakes and I can't afford mistakes. I block out nerves. I'm not happy to be leaving you because I've loved spending six weeks with you, but I'm excited to be getting back to work and-"

"Helping people," I finish for him. Spencer nods and goes quiet again. My other questions are swirling around in my head and as much as I tell myself to shut them out, they don’t stop. "I have another question. It’s an, um, an odd question."

"And what would that be?”

"I know I'm not the profiler here," he chuckles as I shift around to face him, "but I've noticed that you never wear your gun around me. You wear your holster but not your gun. When I go to see Penelope at the BAU, everyone has their guns, even outside the buildings. Your team had their guns in the hospital, even Mike always had his gun on him at home. Why don't you?"

Spencer hums once more, taking a moment to think through his answer. The silence makes me regret asking the question. I’m dying to know, but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Is Spencer uncomfortable? Is that why he’s quiet? "I don't think I really need to. I don't feel the need to subject you to the constant presence of a gun.”

"It doesn't bother me," I tell him softly, tracing my finger around the rim of my cup. I avoid eye contact. "I've seen worse than a gun. I can shoot a gun, did I tell you that?"

Spencer's eyebrows shoot up. "Um, no. You didn't tell me that. I want to ask why you know how to shoot a gun but I don’t think I want to know the answer.”

"I'm not that good at it," I take a sip of my piping hot tea, shrugging my shoulders in a way that is far too nonchalant for this conversation. "Mike taught me a few years ago. Self-defense and all. He actually came to me about it. I was the oldest kid in the house so if anything were to happen when he wasn’t around, I’d know how to shoot one of his spare guns."

Spencer gingerly places his cup on the table, pulling his hand away from my thigh and placing them in his lap. "Just because you know how to shoot a gun doesn't mean I have to go around, parading mine on my hip whenever you're around."

"Have you ever noticed," I ignore his insistence of my innocent, angel personality, "that I don't cool down my tea?"

Spencer taps his fingers against the table, not even looking at me. "Yeah, actually, I have noticed that."

I glance around the emptying cafe and notice that the booths around us are empty and nobody is in earshot. "When I did ‘bad things’ like get a snack during the night or come home thirty seconds late from school or ask what was for dinner, my dad used to hold me down, force open my mouth, pull out my tongue and hold it out, and pour hot sauce on it. It basically fried my tongue to the point where the heat from a cup of tea or coup doesn’t bother me. It’s nothing compared to what I’m used to. I spent my childhood getting hot sauce on my tongue and getting cigarette burns all over my body. I’ve done things and seen some pretty fucked up things throughout my life and, frankly, seeing a gun on your hip won't affect me more than seeing a tattoo of my dead brother on my arm will." 

Spencer grabs onto my arm, gentler than ever, tracing his fingers over a few tattoos- the ones I didn’t tell him about. With my spare hand, I grab my tea and take another sip. “Those five are for my foster homes.”

“Your foster homes? You hated them. Why would you get them tattooed?” 

“Because they’re apart of me,” I shrug one more time and twist my arm around in Spencer’s grasp. “The cactus is from when I lived in Arizona. Pretty self-explanatory. The book is from one house I lived in right next to a library and I would sneak out at night and break into the book drop off bin and read the books that people were returning. The bumblebee is from a house with a wasps nest in the backyard, and it’s where I found out I’m allergic to bee stings. The turtle is from when the house had a pet turtle. And the heart is from a house I lived in where they had this weird metal replica of a heart, and my foster brother at the time broke it and we all got beat up for it. So there, now you know about all my tattoos and about most of my shitty childhood.” Just in time, the alarm on my phone goes off. "You've gotta go," I collect my cup and my phone, slipping out of the booth and stomping towards the door.

Spencer follows after me quickly, his long legs carrying him over to me at record speed. And despite the negative energy radiating off of me, Spencer laces his pinky with mine as I start to walk towards the train. Our laced pinkies are such a tiny gesture but it fills my body with so much love and warmth that my ears tear up. Spencer doesn’t say anything about my bad attitude or the new information I just blurted out. He just pulls me closer to his body and swings our arms between us. When we get to the metro station, Spencer doesn’t make any effort to go down the stairs. He wraps me in his arms and holds me as tight as he can.

"Be careful, okay?" I tuck my face into the crook of his neck and inhale his scent, an intoxicating combination of coffee, peppermint, and some musky cologne. Spencer kisses the top of my head and squeezes my waist. "I love you so, so much. I don't want another call from Penelope that you're in the hospital, okay? No more of that.”

Spencer nods against me. “No more of that,” he confirms.

“Do you promise?”

"Of course, I promise."

///

SPENCER

///

It's refreshing to finally be back in the BAU after six weeks off with the girl I love, but my mind is racing and part of me can't even enjoy being back. The elevator doors open and I easily spot Morgan and JJ chatting in the bullpen through the glass doors, but I take a sharp right. I knock quickly on Garcia's door, waiting to hear her shout before opening.

She gasps and grins when I enter, jumping out of her chair to come give me a hug. "It's so good to see you, Spencer! How are you feeling? How's Amelia? How was it spending six weeks together?"

"I'm fine, she's amazing, and six weeks off was great and I'm happy to be back. But I need you to do something for me." I speak quickly, far too scatterbrained to hold off on my train of thought.

"Oh," she looks a bit stunned as she nods and hurries back to her computer. "I'm at your service, Boy Wonder."

"Okay," I lean over her chair with a heavy sigh as the guilt starts to weigh on me. "I, um, I need you to look up the case that Amelia was involved in."

Garcia whips her head back to me, her eyes wide. "She told you about that?"

"Yeah, she did. And I need you to look it up."

"But why?" Garcia whines as she types in Amelia's name. "I feel icky when I look up my friends and family. I don't like poking into their lives. I already unsealed the court documents from when Rossi made me look them up and I felt absolutely horrible about that."

I lean in closer to read the screen when a whole load of documents and paperwork pop up. "Alright. Damien Kelsey was arrested by Gideon and Rossi, and Amelia was taken to a foster home. He was found guilty on thirty-seven counts of murder on women but he was-"

"Oh my god," Garcia's eyes widen, her hands stilling over her keyboard.

"Print all this information out for me," I demand without meaning to sound so rude, but I barely even give it a second thought as I go storming out of Garcia's lair. I throw open the doors to the bullpen, my eyes locked on one particular closed door. My blood boils hotter than ever before and my hands ball up into fists. Morgan and JJ both greet me from their desks but I ignore them, instead throwing open Rossi's door and then slamming it closed.

Rossi, understandably, looks alarmed as I enter. I can't help the anger that bubbles up in me, but I don't even think it's aimed at him. I think I'm just angry at the world. I just want to wrap Amelia up in my arms and protect her in my arms. From the moment I met her, I just wanted to protect her. I wanted to keep her out of my insane job and to put her in a bubble of innocence and happiness. But knowing that her innocence has already been tainted and her childhood was ruined makes my heart hurt more than it already does.

"Reid?" Rossi stands from his desk, brows furrowed. "What's going on?"

"Damien Kelsey.”

Rossi sighs, relaxing back into his chair and crossing his arms. "So Amelia told you about her father."

"Yeah, she did. But she didn’t tell me,” I slam a stack of papers on the desk in front of him, “this. And this seems pretty damn important.”

"Reid, take a seat, please," Rossi states, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. But when I don't, he knows it's not worth it to continue to harp on it. "I’m aware of this and it’s being dealt with.”

“It’s being dealt with? For over a decade?” I snap. “This is something that should be done already!”

A knock on the door interrupts us, and Garcia pops her head in. "Sorry to end this very loud conversation, but I have some questions about what dessert I should be bringing tomorrow. Chocolate chip cookies or apple fritters?”

I whip my head back to Rossi, pointing at the papers on his desk. “This conversation isn’t over.”

AMELIA

I took Spencer’s advice and went straight to my art studio after he disappeared into the train station. I desperately needed something to distract me and working usually does the trick. So I rush a few blocks over and throw on an apron, getting to work. I haven’t done much work, other than simple drawings, the last few weeks and it’s nice to get back to the thing I love. I guess that’s how Spencer feels about going back to work today. Maybe I should have been more accepting and supportive of his return to the BAU. 

I lose myself in my work, tossing paint at a canvas and creating everything I possibly can in the shortest amount of time. I’m not sure when my time here could be interrupted so I try to get all of my thoughts onto canvas before I have to leave. I’m there for hours and hours before taking a break even crosses my mind. So I collapse into the bean bag chair in the corner of the room and take a break for the first time all day.

Now, Penelope Garcia is an absolute master at what she does. I’ve seen her in action a few times and I’ve heard plenty of stories from Spencer about how she solves a case and finds an unsub just in time to save a life. Penelope Garcia has never been to my studio before but I become momentarily convinced that she broke in and installed cameras to watch me because the second I sit down to take a break, she calls me.

“Hello, my love,” I greet her sweetly. “How is going at the BAU today?”

“Hello, Girl Wonder! It is going great at the BAU today. So far, it’s been a paperwork day and I’ve been bored so I wanted to call you to check up on my new best friend.”

Oh, thank god. It’s a paperwork day. Hopefully, it’ll stay that way and I’ll get to spend the night with Spencer. 

“Oh, that’s sweet, Penny. I’m doing pretty well. I’m at my studio right now and working on some new pieces. I haven’t really been able to work lately so I’m cramming all my thoughts into a few hours,” I take a glance around my studio, or more specifically, at the paint splatters on the wall and the brushes on the floor, “or actually, just making a total mess.”

“I’m not the best painter so you should teach me how to paint. Oh! Oh! I know! You should teach a paint night for the BAU! That would be so much fun. And maybe you could do it at Rossi’s dinner party tomorrow!”

“Dinner party?”

“Oh, yeah,” Penelope’s voice drops slightly. “Spencer didn’t tell you about that?”

“No, he didn’t.” A pout creeps onto my face. Maybe I really, truly annoyed him this morning with my excessive worrying. I’m only trying to protect him, he has to know that. Or there’s a possibility that he doesn’t want me at the dinner. He could want to hang out with his coworkers without me. After all, we did spend six weeks straight together. Maybe he needs a little break, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But it still hurts a little that he didn’t tell me about it, whether he decides to invite me or not. 

“Well, Rossi only invited us today and we all know Boy Wonder isn’t fond of technology, so maybe he’s planning on asking you in person. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. But, hey! That paint night. What do you think?”

SPENCER

I drag my feet up the steps of the metro, into the chilled air of the night, taking a quick glance of my surroundings with my tired eyes. The moonlight creates the path back to my apartment, and the closer I get, the more excited I become to getting into bed. Despite it being a paperwork day, I had a mountain of work to do that didn’t get done while I was on medical leave, and it needed to be finished asap. So it’s just passing eight o’clock when I drag myself up the stairs to my apartment, constantly pulling the falling strap of my satchel up my arm. The last time it falls, I let my bag fall completely onto the floor, fishing through the pocket to find my keys. 

I enter my dark apartment and throw my satchel aside and hang up my jacket, locking up my gun in a safe and kicking off my shoes. I drag my feet into the kitchen, hopefully for some dinner, flicking the light switch as I walk in. I have every intention of heading to the fridge but first, I find a container of food from my favorite restaurant on the table. Beside it, a note from Amelia.

I ordered dinner for us before I knew you were going to be late, so this is yours. I’m going to try and stay up for when you return but I’m really tired so I might not make it. So if I’m knocked out by the time you get home, then I love you and I missed you a lot today!! Now come give me attention!!!!!!!

Love, Lia <3

My socked feet are silent against the hardwood as I tiptoe into the living room, finding my sleeping girlfriend on the couch, wrapped up in a plaid blanket with her feet sticking out of the bottom. Her laptop is on the coffee table in front of her, displaying the title screen for a show called Lucifer that she had been telling me about the other day. I watched a few episodes with Amelia during my medical leave but I couldn’t get over the unlikeliness that a biblical figure could have the powers to slow time on Earth or that a human could have a baby with a biblical figure that isn’t even a human. Amelia banned me from watching the show again.

I crouch down beside the couch and bring my hand to Amelia’s cheek, stroking my thumb along her cheekbone. "Amelia," I whisper, only seeing her eyes flutter in the slightest, "sweet girl, wake up."

She hums, scrunching up her nose, and before coming to, eyelids fluttering again before opening. She smiles softly, wiggling her hips to turn to me. "Hi, baby."

"Hi," I whisper back. "Come to bed. I’m tired and I wanna go to sleep too. Don't sleep on the couch."

"Did you eat?" Amelia murmurs, her hand trailing up to rest atop mine. She twists her head and presses a kiss to my palm, pulling my hand down so she can clutch it against her chest. "I left you-"

"Shh, shh," I hush her softly. "I'm really tired. So let's just go to bed, okay? C'mon, pretty girl."

Amelia smiles lazily, sitting up and letting me push the blanket away from her. "I like when you call me that."

I chuckle, standing and holding my hands out for her. I pull her off the couch and right into my arms, tucking her head under my chin and wrapping my arms around her shoulders. "Pet names are usually your thing."

I lead her off to my bedroom and she goes crawling into bed, leaving me to change into my pajamas. I do that as quickly as I can and then slip under the duvet with Amelia. She immediately scoots backward until her back is pressed to my front and until she’s almost completely on my pillow. I move her hair aside so it’s not in my face and press a kiss to the side of her neck, and she lets out a cute noise in response. 

“I’m sorry if I annoyed you this morning,” Amelia whispers, reaching behind her to place her hand on my cheek. Just like she had done to me, I turn my head and press a kiss to Amelia’s palm. “I was just worried about you. And I’m sorry for being an asshole when I just blurted out all that stuff about my foster homes and my dad.”

“You weren’t annoying at all. I know you were worried. And you weren’t being an- well, you know what. You were worried and anxious for me and I understand that.” Amelia just hums in response, nodding softly against my chest. “But hey, are you busy tomorrow night?”

“Asking me on a date, Doctor?”

“Almost,” I chuckle. “Rossi is having the team over for dinner and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

“Penelope told me about this today. She called me,” Amelia mumbles. She rolls over to face but tucks her head into the crook of my neck, leaving a few kisses right over my pulse point. “I’d love to go with you.”

“Great. You can meet our new team member. Her name is Kate, she’s pretty awesome.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Is there a dress code?” I laugh again, pressing a kiss to Amelia’s forehead that makes her join my giggles. “It’s important, Spence! I can’t show up in heels if everyone else is wearing sweats. That is my worst nightmare.”

“Of course it is,” I quip. “Text Penelope and ask her. I’ll probably just wear the same boring outfits I wear everyday.”

“Hey,” Amelia finally opens her eyes again and looks up at me, “I love the way you dress. It’s not boring. You’re fucking adorable with your button ups and cardigans and ties and fun socks.”

I ignore the sentiment behind her statement and instead furrow my eyebrows. “You call them button ups?”

I can barely see her face in the darkness of my bedroom but I can still make out her expressions, and she furrows her eyebrows right back at me. “Well, what do you call them?”

“Button downs.”

“You’re wrong. That’s so wrong, baby.”

“I can’t remember the last time someone told me I was wrong, and I remember everything.” And this time, I see the corners of Amelia’s lips tip upwards, and an adorable smile graces her face. “But yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Damn right I am, Doctor 187.”

///

"Come on, Amelia! We're already late!" I call up the stairs where my girlfriend is hastily getting ready for dinner.

"Coming!" She calls back, but her voice sounds distant. She has been telling me for an hour that she will be ready in five minutes but clearly, she hasn’t been telling me the truth.

While I'm still waiting for her to finish getting dressed, I wander into the living room to take the record out of the player and tuck it away safely. I make sure that it goes back in the correct place because I don’t want to face Amelia if I mess up her record organization. Amelia's apartment has become like a second home to me over the last few months of our relationship and I’m so grateful to have a safe place like this. Whenever I step foot through the door, I’m enveloped in a certain warmth that only Amelia can provide for me. The plants and the fuzzy blankets and the records that are constantly playing and the artwork on the walls and the balcony with yellow Adirondack chairs and, of course, the girl that the apartment comes with make for the perfect escape from my job. I always thought that my apartment was enough of an escape, and then I came to Amelia’s apartment for Christmas and suddenly, I never wanted to leave.

Amelia comes barreling down the stairs a moment later, her black heeled boots in her hand. She pauses at the door of the stairs and smiles nervously at me, holding her hands out as if to present herself to me. "Do I look okay?"

I don't even know why she asks because she always looks absolutely stunning, no matter what her outfit is. She's wearing a simple black dress that hugs her body in the most beautiful ways, showing off her array of colorful tattoos. She is, of course, wearing her butterfly necklace and her clusters of rings, nails painted yellow again. Her blonde hair is straightened and she has a scarf tied in her hair like a headband with a few pieces of hair pulled out to frame her face. I swear, whenever I see her, I'm speechless. I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful human in my life.

"You look gorgeous, love, you always do," I compliment, holding my hand out for her to grab onto so she doesn’t tip over when putting her shoes on, "but aren't you gonna get cold when it gets dark?"

Amelia shrugs and swats her hand at me nonchalantly, grabbing her backpack and camera from the staircase banister. "I'll be fine. Let's get going. I can't believe you're driving! This is so rare!" She throws a smile over her shoulder when she walks past me, leaning over to press a kiss to my cheek. "If Penelope lied to me and there's no wine here tonight-"

"There's gonna be wine," I insist, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the building. "Rossi always has wine."

///

"You made it!" Rossi grins as he pulls open his front door. "And you've brought Amelia. Good choice," he pulls the two of us in for a hug, prompting Amelia to compliment him on his house. "Alright, you two, into the backyard. Everyone else is already there."

I give Amelia a look as if to shame her for taking so long to get dressed, and she just shoves my shoulder. She murmurs something under her breath that I don’t quite hear, but I wouldn’t have had time to ask anyway because we’ve joined everyone in the backyard a moment.

"Yes!" Garcia immediately cheers, running over as fast as she can on her ridiculously high heels and pulling Amelia into a hug. "I knew it! I knew you'd make it and Reid would tell you about this and you'd get to drink lovely wine with us. I knew it!"

Amelia laughs as she hugs Penelope back, pulling away only to be pulled back in. "It's nice to see you too, P."

"You've gotta meet everyone!" Penelope exclaims and almost spills liquid from the glass I'm realizing is in her hand. I find myself wondering how much she's already had to drink. Amelia glances over her shoulder at me desperately as Garcia drags her away and over to the long table that's set up. She's introduced formally to the team, yet again, along with Savannah, Beth, Sam, Will, and Chris. And of course, she takes the time to introduce herself to Kate. She's always been good at talking to people, unlike me, so a glass of wine is thrust in her hand and she's enveloped in conversation. But I linger on the porch, just admiring how easily she bonds with everyone and how her face lights up when Savannah cracks a joke.

"How's it going, Pretty Boy?" Morgan is at my side, patting my shoulder with a teasing smirk that I saw all day today. He spent the last two days asking me how my medical leave was and if I finally sealed the deal with Amelia. His prying would have considered invasive if I wasn’t so used to it already. "You brought your girl."

"And she's already been taken away from me," I cross my arm, watching her take a long sip of her wine before turning her head to Hotch and Beth. "At least she's getting along with everyone."

"Yeah," Morgan sighs and the mood instantly drops. "Listen, I don't know what happened with the whole situation where Rossi recognized her and-"

"Morgan-" I try to interject, but he shakes his head.

"Kid, I don't wanna know, that's what I'm saying. You two seem to be over it, and if you're happy, then I'm happy for you. You seem to trust her so that’s all that matters. She seems like a good girl for you. She makes you happy."

I turn my gaze back to her and my heart flutters as she twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, holding her wine glass in her hand delicately. She looks too beautiful for anyone’s good in her stupid, tight black dress and heels that make her legs look as long as mine. "She does."

"I gotta be honest," he chuckles lightly. "I didn't expect you to shoot for a girl with a nose piercing and two arms of tattoos but I'm not complaining."

"Uncle Spencer!" Our conversation is fully stopped by a little voice, and Henry comes barreling over, having broken away from JJ's hold. My face lights up as he comes jumping into my arms, crouching down to catch him. Morgan pats my shoulder again, heading to the table to leave us alone.

"Hi, Henry!" I exclaim, hugging him tightly. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

Henry giggles, his head falling onto my shoulder in the most adorable way. "I missed you, Uncle Spencer."

"I missed you too, Henry." I smile, ruffling his hair. He pushes my hands away with a giggle and pushes his own long hair behind his ears. "Did you meet my girlfriend?"

Henry's eyes widen as he lifts his head. "You have a girlfriend?"

I hold in my laugh at his astonishment as I nod, bringing his attention to where Amelia is now standing with Penelope and Sam, chatting away. "That's her, right there. With the blonde hair and the black dress. Her name is Amelia."

Henry lifts his head even more to get a good look at her, and just as he does, Amelia turns her head to look back at us. As she does, Henry gasps and whips his head back to face me. "She saw me!" His eyes widen and he puts his tiny hands on my cheeks. I mimic his surprised expression and I see Amelia excusing herself from her conversation to walk back over to us. Henry turns his head slowly to peer back at her, and when he sees that she's walking to us, he gasps again. "She's coming!"

Amelia gets to us with a huge smile towards Henry, setting her glass of wine on the table. "Hi!"

"Say hi, bud," I prompt as he drops his hands back to my shoulders again. Henry gives me a nervous glance and only turns his head slightly towards Amelia.

"Hi, Amelia," he says, waving just a tiny bit.

"Hi, Henry," Amelia grins. "I've heard a lot about you from Spencer. He tells me that you're the coolest kid he knows."

Henry's eyes light up and a small smile plays at his lips. "He did?"

"Oh yeah, he totally did," she nods confidently. I have to admit, I've never seen her interact with children before, but I could watch this all day. Where did her love of children even come from? Did it come from Cody? Or did it come from protecting her foster siblings from abusive parents? 

Henry is silent for a moment and I can tell he's noticing Amelia's tattoos. He points at her arm. "You've got drawings all over your arms!"

Amelia looks down at her arms as if she's forgotten she has tattoos, nodding "I do. Super cool, right?" Henry nods. "I'm an artist, I drew some of these. So that means I draw and paint pictures as a job.”

"That's awesome!" Henry exclaims, his face lighting up even brighter than before. "Could you draw me some pictures?"

"Of course I could!" Amelia immediately exclaims. "I always have pencils and a sketchbook with me. Let's go, bud," she gives me a cute smile and I place him on the floor, letting the two go off on their own. I watch them for just a moment as Amelia grabs her backpack to pull out her pencils and sketchbook before finding a good place to sit with Henry.

"Wow," JJ is the next person to materialize at my side, "I've never seen him gravitate towards someone so quickly. And I've never seen him leave your side so quick," The two of us watch as Jack runs up and joins the two of them, sitting on Amelia's unoccupied side and peering over her arm at her sketchbook. She greets Jack and then gets back to work, listening to every demand the boys have over what she should draw. "C'mon, Spence, come join everyone."

JJ grabs my arm and drags me over to the table with everyone else, sitting me down beside her. It's nice to see everyone outside of work every once in a while, especially after such a stressful stretch of a few months. I'm not one to admit that I need relaxation but I definitely needed a night like this with everyone. I especially needed a night with my friends and my girlfriend getting along. My biggest fear is that everyone on the team would reject her after her moment with Rossi. But they seem to love her, even the kids love her, and I’m just so relieved.

After a little while, the boys come sprinting over, waving their drawings in their hands as they rave to their parents. Amelia returns to me with a proud smile, claiming the seat next to me and scooting as close as she can. She leans into my chest and I leave a kiss on her temple, and the purr-like sound that she makes brings a smile to my face.

"Dinner," Rossi announces, "is served."

///

"Have you ever played rummy?" I drag my eyes up and down Amelia's body as she comes to sit next to me after helping Rossi with the cleanup of plates. She's got her second glass of wine in her hand and my jacket wrapped around her shoulders, hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. She starting scooting closer to me during dinner, and it took me all of a millisecond to realize that she was cold and when she told me that she was wrong about not needing a jacket, I happily gave her mine.

"No, actually. I haven't. Will you teach me?" She presses her face into my arm, one of her hands clutching her glass of wine and the other finding home on my thigh. I have to resist the urge to squirm around when her thumb strokes my leg atop my pants. I’ve noticed that she has been nursing her second glass of wine for quite a while so it’s unlikely she is too drunk to realize the effect her touch is having on me. But she doesn’t really pay any attention to it when I shift my position in my chair.

"Yeah, of course," I clear my throat and grab our little stack of cards, spreading them out in my hands. I look down at Amelia to find she’s already looking at me. Her eyes are half shut and her lips are pouted just slightly, enough to make it necessary for me to lean down and kiss her. "And you've got the best teacher, too."

"Pretty boy's banned from casinos in, as I remember it, Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Parump," Morgan interjects, earning a slap on the arm from Savannah for interrupting.

"So we need to be collecting cards based on the rounds," I tell her and she nods. "For the first round, we need to sets of threes, get it? We need two sets of three cards with the same number, any suit, red or black."

"Not too hard," she takes a sip of her drink and starts silently arranging the cards in my hands as I've instructed. I go on to explain the concept of taking cards out of turn and then how to lay down cards and then how to win a round. She's nodding but I'm not sure if she's retaining any of this information, but I could win this game blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back so it's not a big deal. All I’m worried about is Amelia keeping her hands on me and getting her home soon.

The game starts and we take the lead immediately, but it’s not like anyone is surprised. And it takes about an hour but, sure enough, Amelia and I win rummy. The win is followed by rolled eyes and groans, and a few stolen kisses between us when everyone starts cleaning up. It's odd, I think, to have someone to be affectionate with during a team dinner. I've spent years being alone at team dinners and I've watched everyone with their significant others and wished I could have that. But now I've got the most amazing girl at my side who I'm head over heels in love with who I'm certain I'm gonna have for the rest of my life.

"Spence?" Amelia's soft voice breaks me out of my lovestruck daze. She places her empty wine glass in the sink beside me, pulling my jacket tighter around her shoulders. "Are we leaving?"

I smile, nodding as I run my hands up and down her arms. "Yeah," I dig into my pocket and hand her my keys, "get in the car. I've gotta ask Rossi a work question and I'll be right out. Don't drive away.”

“I won’t,” she giggles, going up on her toes to kiss me. Her lips taste like wine and her tongue tastes like chocolate and it’s such an intoxicating taste that I kiss her like we’re not in the middle of Rossi’s kitchen. Amelia’s hands come up to my stomach, grasping my shirt for a split second before she pulls away. Her hands come up to my face and her thumb swipes away a little bit of lip gloss from the corner of my mouth before she abruptly turns on her heel and struts away. I watch her hips sway when she walks, all the way until she gets to JJ and Henry, saying goodbye and exchanging phone numbers with the ladies of my team.

Once Amelia is out of my sight, I make my way down the hallway and into Rossi’s office, closing the door behind me.

AMELIA

I collapse into the passenger seat of Spencer’s car, putting the keys in the ignition and turning the heat up. I tug my shoes off and toss them onto the floor, spreading out my toes and stretching them out for the first time in hours. The driver side door opens a second later and Spencer slips in, watching me massage my feet for a second. “I don’t know why you insist on wearing those everywhere if they just make your feet hurt.”

“Because they complete the whole outfit, bubs,” I sass right back at him as we both put on our seatbelts. “Are we going back to my apartment or yours?”

“Yours, if that’s okay. I have my go-bag so I can change before work tomorrow,” Spencer puts the car into drives and speeds off. I can’t take my eyes off of him when he drives. The way his biceps flex as he grips the wheel or the way he elongates his neck when he looks over his shoulder to check for oncoming cars. 

When he stops at a red light, he reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh, the same way I had done to him during cards. Spencer smiles over at me with the most innocent look, and it almost takes my breath away. I open my mouth to speak but he starts driving before I can say anything. His hand tightens and releases its grip every few seconds, and by the time we arrive at my apartment, I’m barely able to sit straight. I practically trip out of the car and hurry upstairs, Spencer hot on my heels. 

The tension that we’ve been building the last few hours is looming over us, and as we stroll up the stairs to my bedroom, I can feel Spencer staring me down. I do what I can to ignore his burning gaze but the attention is addicting and it feels involuntary when I sway my hips in the same way that got him a little too excited before. 

Once we reach the top step, Spencer’s hand grasp onto my waistline and he pulls me into his chest. He ducks his head to place a kiss on the side of my neck, already reaching to pull his jacket off of my body. “Is this okay?” He murmurs, lips brushing against my skin.

“Yes,” I roll my shoulders back to let the jacket fall to the floor, then I twist around in Spencer’s arms to start pulling at his shirt. I tug him towards the bed and fall backwards, bringing him down with me. He catches himself before he bares all of his weight on me, sitting up on his knees and staing down at me with an intensity I’ve never seen before.

“Are you sure this is okay? I know you were drinking tonight and I don’t want to take advantage.”

“I’m not drunk and you’re not taking advantage,” I grab the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss, feeling him shuffle around to undo the buttons of his shirt and toss it onto the ground. His shoes, socks, and belt follow, and when he is almost completely undressed, he pulls away from my lips. 

His fingers trail up my thgihs and to the hem of my dress, slowly pushing it upwards. My breath hitches as the dress gets to my hips, and Spencer immediately stops. “Do you not want me to take your dress off? I can leave it on.”

“No, well, I-”

“No?”

“Yes!” I place my hands on Spencer’s shoulders and take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment. Spencer’s hands move from the hem of my dress to my waistline. “I just, well, I usually keep a shirt or a sweater on when I have sex. It’s just-”

“You don’t have to take your clothes off if you don’t want to. We don’t even need to continue if you’re uncomfortable,” Spencer leans down to press a kiss to my nose, and that tiny act brings a smile to my face. “I love you.”

“I love you,” I parrot his sweet words, leaning up on my elbows to peck his lips. “I trust you.” It’s more of a statement for me then for Spencer. I just needed to reassure myself that this is my Spencer. My Spencer who stumbled over his words when we first met and my Spencer who still sometimes asks just to kiss me. He’s not like the other assholes I’ve dealt with. He’s special.

So I wiggle from under Spencer and stand at the foot of the bed. I’m flustered for a second as Spencer lays on his back and tucks his hands behind his head, his chest completely on display for me. But I drag myself away from my thoughts and unzips my dress, letting it fall to the floor with trembling hands. And while I have the tiniest bit of confidence in myself, I unclip my bra and let it join my dress.

Spencer’s face grows into a grin, sitting up and grasping my waist again. His touch calms all my nerves and momentarily makes me forget that he’s the first man to ever see me like this. He’s the first man I’ve ever let myself be completely vulnerable around. He is the first person I let see my scars and my piercings and as terrifying as it is, his soft gaze makes my anxiety drift away.

He traces his fingers over one of the scars on my stomach, then drags it down to the silver jewel in my bellybutton. “I didn’t know you had piercings.” I reclaim my spot on Spencer’s lap and wrap my arms around his neck, bringing my lips down to his in an attempt to silence the conversation. It works because Spencer is shimmying out of his pants and tossing them haphazardly away.

Spencer flips us over so I’m pinned under him, his lips traveling down to the metal bars in my nipples. “You’re so beautiful, Lia.” He presses his lips to each and every scar on my stomach before grazing his teeth on the hem of my panties. “You can tell me if you ever want to stop, okay?”

I really and truly never thought I’d ever fall in love with someone like Spencer. I never thought that I’d fall in love at all. I thought that all men would be like the asshole I lost my virginity to, who laughed at my crooked bellybutton ring and asked countless questions about the scars that I didn’t want to talk about. 

I didn’t think I’d find anyone as amazing as the man above me right now. I didn’t think I’d find anyone as amazing as the man who kisses me with every thrust of his hips and brushes my hair behind my ears and listens to the way my body speaks. He double and triple checks that the condom is on correctly and asks if I need to use lube. He touches me in every spot that craves attention and switches our position when my legs cramp up. He intertwines our fingers and circles my clit when I ask him to. Spencer is the sweetest lover and, even when we’ve both worked our bodies to exhaustion, he rolls over and presses kisses over the hickeys he left on my neck. I try to lift myself on my elbows to clean myself up, but Spencer pushes my shoulders back down. He tells me to stay there, then returns from the bathroom with a towel to clean me up. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer wonders, pulling the duvet over the both of us after tossing the towel back into the bathroom. “Do you need anything?”

I roll onto my side and bury my face in Spencer’s neck, still struggling to catch my breath. “Spencer, no man has ever made me cum. Ever. Much less three times.”

Spencer furrows his eyebrows, pushing my hair out of my face and tracing his fingers over the bruises on my neck. “Was it too much?”

“No! Oh my god, no, dove. That was absolutely amazing,” I pull his hand away from my neck and kiss his palm, scooting as close as I possibly can to his body and soak up the warmth that radiates off of him. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too.” Spencer presses a kiss to my swollen lips and even though his body language does the opposite, he pulls away from me. “I hate to ruin the moment but you should go to the bathroom. You’re more likely to get a UTI and if a UTI goes untreated it can cause a kidney infection. It’s a common myth to think that a UTI can turn into an STI like chlamydia, but that’s completely not true.”

I hold back my giggle, running my fingers through Spencer’s sweaty hair, pushing it away from his eyes the same way he does to me. “Dirty talk is your strong suit.” 

“Is that sarcasm?” Spencer raises his eyebrows at me as I start to climb out of bed and wander towards the bathroom. “Was it not good?”

“I’m only joking, sweet face. You were amazing. The best I’ve ever had.”

Spencer grins the proudest grin I’ve ever seen. “Really?”

“I just told you that no man has ever made me cum but that you made me cum three times. Yes, you’re the best.”

“Hmm,” he hums, falling onto his back again and tucking his hands behind his head, “yeah. I’m the best.”

I lean over the bed one more time and kiss Spencer’s cheek. “You’re adorable, dove.”

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #nikos north fic #nikos writing #spencer reid fanfiction #dr reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc

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Spencer x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

(This is my gif so please give credit if used)

Summary: She suspects that Spencer is having some trouble in light of recent events and plans on confronting him about it, be he beats her to it. Story eight.

Category: Some angst. Some fluff. Some steam.

Warnings: Cussing. Mentions of drug abuse and PTSD.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: I have made a new category called “steam.” This is hotter than fluff but not as intense as smut. It’s basically super passionate/intimate kissing and touching. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I didn’t think it was a big deal at first. Things had calmed down since finding Morgan’s cousin and were pretty much back to normal. I was still dancing, but I couldn’t bring myself to do private showings. I tried, but everytime I walked into that room, my scar started burning and my head started spinning. I had to walk out. Once I did, I was fine. It pissed me off because privates made up half of my earnings, and I even made it through a whole private one time, but immediately after had a panic attack. I didn’t even know that was what was happening until JoJo told me that was most likely it. So I just decided to stay in the main room for a while until this phase or whatever wore off.

The other thing I noticed that wasn’t completely right either was Spencer. He was … different. I don’t exactly know. He was talking to me less, coming over to my apartment to read less, and was kinda drawing into himself more. He had moments throughout the day where he��d press his palm into his eye and had trouble focusing. I asked him about it, Derek asked him about it, everyone asked him about it, but all he kept saying was that he was fine. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.’ It was so frustrating. He was more irritable for a time, and then things changed.

Then, he actually seemed fine. He seemed better than fine. He still had headache-y moments, and was still more withdrawn, but he seemed … better? I don’t know. Spencer could usually keep his head on straight, but his emotions the past few months were very touchy. He had more pep in his step one moment, then the next he was the human equivalent of a snapping turtle. His mood swings were giving me whiplash.

I don’t know how I didn’t pick up on it sooner, probably because I was so worried about my minor strokes at the clubs, but he displayed all sorts of drug user signs. Withdrawing from people close to them, showing less interest in hobbies they enjoyed, having ‘less time’ for things, making weird calls, being moody, being late, headaches. It was all there. And since he refused to talk to us or tell us about it, I decided to follow him.

I know. I know. I was disrespecting his privacy and I shouldn’t have done it but I did. I was worried about him. Plus, the last private thing he told me about his life before all this weirdness popped up was that his mother was getting worse. That would definitely push someone over the edge.

So I followed him.

Come to find out the good doctor wasn’t as good as he claimed to be. When he got home from work, he just sat on the couch reading for a while. Then, he got in his car and drove a few blocks over to a payphone (I didn’t really know those still existed). He waited until exactly 9:15 to dial the number. He then hung up, and waited for a call to come in. When it did, he answered it so fast I’d have guessed his life depended on it. But that is how drug addicts act. I’d know. He stood there and talked for an hour, having to put four more quarters into the machine. That’s when I got confused. If it was a drug dealer, it’d make sense that he would call them from a payphone. But talk to them for an hour? Definitely not. However, his following actions still pointed to a drug dealer. When the call ended, he got into his car and drove to another street corner near a small apartment complex. He walked around to the back so I couldn’t see what he was doing. He got back into his car less than two minutes later, a reasonable time for an exchange, and drove home. It was about 10:30 when he got back home, and he closed the curtains and shut off the lights. Sure, he could have been going to bed, but considering he had some form of insomnia and people high on drugs don’t necessarily like bright lights or being peered in on… That’s all I was saying.

While I had a plausible working theory, I didn’t just want to come out and accuse him of being on drugs. I decided that I’d give it a few days and I would observe his every move. I also decided I’d continue my spying for those few days just to see if he would continue to call someone on a payphone and meet them behind an apartment complex.

Unfortunately, all of his actions within the remainder of the week just confirmed my theory. Dammit Reid. What have you gotten yourself into?

I decided I’d confront him about it in the morning. For the time being, I had more work to do. I went to the Camelot, avoided doing any private showings, and then returned home. I was caught completely off guard when I saw Spencer leaning up against my apartment door.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” I tried to sound as casual and cheery as possible.

“I could ask you the same.”

“I live here,” I pointed out.

“So why are you just now getting home? It’s 2 am,” he said.

“What are you getting at?” I asked. “We’ve known each other long enough to not have to tiptoe around each other.”

“Out for another walk?”

“Yep,” I said, not even trying to hide it anymore. It didn’t matter that I’d already changed back into normal clothes, he saw right through me. He had since the moment we had that case involving Morgan’s cousin.

“How did you really know Cindi?” he said in that eerily soft, but hella intense tone. Even though I had just told him to stop playing games and get to the point, he was trying to force this out of me. I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction.

“I told you. I recognized her picture.”

“See, that doesn’t make sense. You also said that you had previous dance experience from before prison, which I don’t doubt, but she seemed like she recognized you. She would have only been on the streets within the last few months. How could that be possible?” He was starting to get smug, but I was going to make him work for it.

“I don’t know. A lot of people on the streets recognize me.”

“No that wasn’t it. She knew you and Emily told me that the two girls at the club knew you, too. They even hugged you!”

“Oh, so now Emily’s involved?” He was infuriating and my tone told him so.

He sighed. “That’s not the point. The point is that you are struggling and aren’t asking for help.”

“We’ve been over this. I told Hotch all of this already and-”

“Just tell me why you’re doing it.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” he pleaded. His voice abruptly changed from confident to begging.

It was no use trying to get this around him, so I gave in. “Old habits die hard. And I need the money. They’re basically using me as a volunteer at the bureau and I’ve got to survive somehow.”

“Let me help you.”

“I’m okay,” I said, attempting to slip past him to my door. “Plus, you need to help yourself.”

He bypassed my last comment. “What about the drugs?”

I whipped my head to look at him. How did he know about that? I could see how he figured out the dancing, sure, but I knew how to hide a drug problem.

“What?” I asked, stunned.

“What about the drugs,” he repeated.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. Before I could turn back to my door and fully get the key in the lock, he grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me to face him. His firm grip pushed me up against the door and held me there. Being so close to him made the four inches he had on me very evident.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, my voice stern. I was surprised by his actions, to say the least, but I wasn’t going to let myself be rendered useless.

“Tell me the truth,” he replied, his voice deeper than I’d ever heard it. I’d never seen him like this, and I hated to admit it, especially because that shouldn’t have been my focus, but I liked it. It was exciting. He leaned forward, staring intensely into my eyes, daring me to lie to him.

The attraction I’d felt for him had been growing since the day we met. The more I got to know him, the more the foreign feelings started to take over. I couldn’t stop myself as I closed the gap between us, electricity coursing through my body. I pressed my lips lightly against his, testing the waters. I don’t know if it was the shock or him melting into the kiss that lessened his grip on me. It didn’t matter. The moment he did, I moved my hands slowly up his arms, feeling each individual muscle move against my fingertips. I reached the top of his shoulders, then his upper back, and out of habit, I checked for twitching. There wasn’t any, which made me smile into him, but there was a different type of movement. His shoulder blades pinched, repositioning his hands to have one resting on my cheek and the other supporting the small of my back. My hands continued their path, tracing patterns on the back of his neck before reaching their final destination. The cold metal of the bracelets on my wrist sent a shudder down his spine before I wove my fingers through his hair, toying with the loose curls I found there. The hand on my cheek slid back into my own hair, pushing it behind my ear and simultaneously grabbing as much of it as possible. I had been repressing this desire for so long, it was nice to finally release it. I deepened the kiss, which his tongue happily allowed, and refused to come up for air. He didn’t, however, letting a slight gasp fall from his lips as he pulled away. I looked up into his eyes, feeling almost proud. I could tell he was fighting the urge to smile as he got right back to business, as if that didn’t just happen.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

I shook my head, breathless. “No. I didn’t.” I leaned toward him again, pulling him closer to me, my hands still entwined in his hair. I left an open-mouthed kiss on his earlobe before whispering, “But what about you? I know you haven’t exactly been the good doctor you usually are.”

He pulled back to look at me, our noses practically touching, confusion in his eyes. It took effort to let him respond and to not just interrupt him with another kiss.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your drugs.” I licked my lips. Just like that, he reverted right back to being confrontational, removing his hands from my body. I reluctantly let go of my grip on his hair.

Instead of trying to deny it, he asked, “How did you know that?”

His voice was a low growl, so I matched it when I responded, “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“So you followed me?”

“I was worried.”

“There are a lot better ways to show that.”

“Since when have ever I done a good job expressing my emotions?” I arched an eyebrow.

“Never.”

“Exactly. Plus, I don’t think you’re one to judge considering it definitely took an extra effort to put all the pieces together in my life and come present them to me at 2 am.”

“That’s true.” We stood there staring at each other for a while, both contemplating if we should just let our problems be implied, or if we should actually talk about them.

“Well, if you don’t plan on leaving or getting any sleep, would you like to come in?” I asked. He nodded. The key was still in the door from when I tried to open it earlier. I’m glad I didn’t succeed in that quest until now.

We entered my apartment and he took a seat on the couch. I was right behind him, pausing to take off the bracelets and rings and tuck them into the nearest drawer.

“Why are you taking those off?”

It was an unexpected question, and I was sort of surprised he noticed my quick movements. “Just not feeling them anymore.”

“But you are hiding them. You are putting them in the nearest drawer you can find, and based off of how silently you tried to walk, following me into your apartment, you want them off and fast. Why?”

Those metal chains had been a part of my identity for a long time. They were how people identified me, and at some points, even how I identified myself. That crazy, badass bitch who earned all of those and is somehow still alive to tell the tale. “I guess it’s because they are a part of a different me. They show who I used to be, and that’s never who I wanted to be around you guys. I didn’t want to end up being the street rat criminal you were all forced to work with. I wanted to be better than that this time around. On the other side of good and bad. Somehow, I feel like I can be more without them. You make me feel like I’m more.” It was the most honest thing I’d said or done all week.

“Me?”

“Yes. You.”

“You don’t have to change for me, for us. It’s okay if-” he started. It was a sweet sentiment, but not what I was trying to say.

“No, I know,” I cut him off, “I know I don’t have to, but I want to. You make me better. You guys make me want to be better. That’s sorta why I was hoping none of you would figure out what I’ve really been doing all these nights.”

“So you are still dancing,” he said it like it wasn’t a question. I guess it wasn’t.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“And you’re still on drugs.”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“I know you. You’ve been acting differently ever since the Cindi case.”

I know you. I tried not to let it get to my head.

“Likewise. You’re on drugs, too.”

“Yeah. Your turn. How’d you know?”

“I saw you getting them from someone behind an old apartment complex. You seem pretty friendly,” I added.

“What makes you say that?”

“You talked to them on the phone for quite some time prior.”

His eyes went wide. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought we had just silently agreed to be honest. I saw you talking on that payphone for like an hour prior to meeting your dealer.” Unless that wasn’t your dealer on the phone. But who else could it be?

“Oh. That.”

“Why are you being weird about it?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are. Tell me why,” I demanded.

“It’s nothing. Just a problem with the meeting place,” he stated. I let it slide.

“What drug?”

“Dilaudid,” he tilted his head at me, his way of asking me the same.

“Coc and heroin.”

“Both?”

“Unfortunately,” I said and it was unfortunate. I’d been sober for so long, but I made an impulse decision to be helpful, which of course ended up being hurtful. But it’s me so of course there’s always a price to pay. When isn’t there?

“Is it because you took those when we were helping Morgan?” It’s like he could read my mind.

“Yeah. I mean, I had pre-existing problems, but that was the trigger this time,” I stated sadly.

“Pre-existing?”

“Yeah. Being young on the streets means people think you are vulnerable and super easy to manipulate. I wasn’t, which pissed a lot of people off but it was also why I was so good at what I did. Those who wanted to control me like the rest of the easily manipulated newbies took to drugging me. When I was in the gang, too, I had a lot of drugs shoved my way. For a period of time, I worked so hard to fight the effects. I tried to resist taking them and I did my best to stay clear headed, even when they continued upping the doses. That’s how I learned to resist them. Plus, after having doses that probably should have killed me, I built up quite the tolerance.”

“After that?”

“After that period of time, I gave up. I had fought it for nearly three years, every single day, and I got tired. I finally just let them drug me without resisting. They gave me so many different drugs, which is how I got good at identifying them. It turned into a mind game for me. In order to ignore everything that followed the drugging, I decided I’d pay attention to every detail of how the drug affected me. How my eyes felt, how my breathing felt, how my heart felt, even how my blood in my veins felt. And I kept note of which hallucinations came with which drug so I was better able to prepare myself and hopefully control myself during those that got really bad,” I said. It was yet another situation I detached myself from. “Why dilaudid?”

“I was forced on it when I first started working here,” he whispered. I could tell he wasn’t willing to elaborate, so I decided to ask a different question.

“And you’ve been dealing with this ever since?”

“No, no. I quit a while back, but when I heard that my mom was doing worse it caused me a lot of stress. I started getting these really intense headaches and no one can figure out what’s wrong with me. On one of the last cases, a little boy almost died because I couldn’t focus, so the next time I had a headache, I tried taking dilaudid. It was the only thing I could think to do, and it helped. It reduced the pain and gave me back some semblance of focus, so I stayed on it,” he said.

“Spencer, it’s not your fault that-”

“I know, and I know that he didn’t die, but if he had, it would have been my fault. I’m not willing to take that chance in the future. Other people shouldn’t have to suffer because I’m having problems.” I nodded, knowing that there was nothing I could say that would convince him otherwise. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” I answered.

“The hallucination you were having that day, you said you’d never had it before?”

“Nope. I guess it would have to be because I’ve never taken all of those at once before.”

“Yeah, but, what was it? All Morgan told me was that you were worried about me and when I came in, all I got from you was ‘tell me that’s not real’ followed by relief.” I found it amusing that he wanted to know more about the hallucination he obviously knew was about him. I blew air out my nose in a silent laugh before my mood shifted at the memory of what I saw.

“I saw you on the ground. You had several broken bones, limbs in directions they shouldn't've been. You were bleeding … everywhere. I tried to remind myself that it was all just in my head but my options were to let it continue and have it end up being real, or make a fool out of myself. I wasn’t going to take any chances,” I said.

We sat there looking at each other in silence for a while, before he decided to break it.

“How is it going back there?” Spencer asked.

“Back where?”

“To the Camelot. A lot happened there.”

“It’s fine,” I said, but even I could hear the lie in my voice.

“Wanna try that again?”

“No,” I sighed, “Don’t look at me like that.” He had those soft, puppy-dog eyes, which always compelled me to tell him things that I wouldn’t tell anyone else and he knew it. I could drown in his gaze and I would feel privileged.

“It sucks. I haven’t been able to do privates, I haven’t even been able to go into that room without my scar hurting and my head pounding. I tried it once, but immediately after, had a panic attack and threw up.”

“You’re experiencing PTSD,” he said. I looked at him, brows knit together.

“What?”

“It’s okay. It’s totally natural. You experienced something traumatic so it’d make sense that you are having trouble,” he said.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I replied, shaking my head.

“Yes it does. You-”

“No. It doesn’t make sense. I’ve been through plenty of things like that and worse and I didn’t even have a team of trained experts backing me up and I’m doing fine with those. What do you mean I have PTSD?” I sounded a bit bitchier than I would have liked.

“I don’t know why you haven’t struggled with other memories. You probably dumped them or just haven’t experienced anything after the fact that would trigger those feelings,” he replied. He was speaking in his ‘Doctor Genius voice’ as I called it, sounding like a professor.

I grunted. “Whatever the reason, it sucks and needs to get fixed fast because it’s messing with my income.”

That elicited a small laugh from him. “That’s not how it works.”

“I know. Too bad, though.”

“Too bad.”

I rolled my eyes and let out an annoyed laugh.

“What is it?”

“It’s just that my life is a disaster,” I answered, running my fingers through my hair.

“That’s not true-”

“Oh please. Your body’s in better shape than my life,” I gave him a sarcastic smile. I think we were both still a little high from the hours prior. I know I was.

He pressed his lips together, but I saw the corners tilt up just slightly. Once he could fully compose himself, he said. “That’s not funny.”

I pinched my fingers together and held them up to his face. I squinched up my nose. “Just a teeny bit?”

He quirked his mouth over to one side and squinted his eyes at me.

“No?” I asked. He shook his head. “You know it was only a joke.”

“I know,” he said with a small lip-smile

“I think you have a great body,” I said, still grinning.

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not! I mean it!” I lightly wacked his bicep. He gave me a knowing look on the verge of a smirk. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!” he defended.

“You thought it.” I argued.

“Oh so you can read minds now?”

“No, just your pretty face.”

He finally let that full smile breach the surface, a light pink color dusting his cheeks. “You really just complimented my scarecrow figure.”

“I did,” I confirmed unabashed, nodding my head profusely. We both suddenly burst into a laughing fit, one that could have easily been considered my ab workout for the day. By the end, I was clutching my stomach and wiping the tears streaming down my face. When we both reached planet Earth again, we just peered into each other's eyes.

I suddenly felt exposed, like he was analyzing the contents of my mind and soul. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said, breaking eye contact.

“No, seriously. What?” My voice was calm and inviting, a tone that seemed to be reserved only for him and any of the victims we talked to.

“Are we going to talk about what happened earlier?”

“You mean the kiss?” I felt delirious and just let the words roll off my tongue.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to talk,” he said, wetting his lips. His voice got deeper again and I was hoping that I was reading the signs correctly.

“You don’t?” I inquired.

“No, not really.”

I playfully inched forward on the couch and in a sultry tone asked, “Then what do you want to do?”

He placed his long fingers on my neck, brushing his thumbs over my jaw. “This.”

He feverishly pressed his lips to mine and I quickly moved from my crossed-leg position onto my knees. I put my one hand on his back and the other on his neck. He was still sitting, so I had the vantage point. I leaned over him, slightly tilting his head back so that we didn’t have to part. He extended his legs the length of the couch, sliding them in between my own, anticipating what was coming next. His hands still cupping my face, he slowly laid back, bringing me with him. My hair fell like a curtain around our faces, creating a sacred space just for us. His tongue asked permission to deepen the kiss, and I granted it without hesitation. I brought my one hand from his back into his hair, using my thumb to rub gentle circles into his temple while the other stayed firmly planted in its place at the back of his neck. I felt his muscles give out a little, and I smiled into our kiss knowing that he trusted me to support his head, and I did so like my life depended on it. This time, it was me who had to come up for air. His eyes fluttered open as I gently laid his head down on the cushion underneath it. I swung my leg over his body so I was no longer straddling him, and cozied up next to him.

He was studying my face. “What-”

“Shh,” I said, before he could get anything else out. I placed my thumb on his lips, tracing over them. “Let’s just get some sleep.”

He looked down at me as I rested my head on his chest. His look of slight confusion turned to one of adoration. I couldn’t remember the last time, the last person, who looked at me like that and it made me feel all warm. I curled into him, wrapping my arm around him. In turn, he brought his own arm around me, settling it on my waist. His breathing steadied and the next time I looked up at him, he was asleep. Spencer’s face looked peaceful, making him look more beautiful than ever. I smiled to myself, finding comfort in the constant rise and fall of his chest, sleep dragging me under to the soothing sound of his heartbeat.

#criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x oc #aundreya chambers #spencer reid #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #behavioral analysis unit #bau #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid fanfic #reid #dr spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x oc #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #fluff #angst #steam #oc

[morceid]

Dancing with Dilaudid

SPENCER REID X DEREK MORGAN

read on ao3

Summary: Spencer begins to detox on his own, but when he finds himself snapping too often, he asks Derek for assistance.

Word Count: 1062

Category: angst

Content Warnings: drug use, swearing, vomiting, anxiety

A/N: inspired by the song dilaudid by the mountain goats :)

Tobias Hankel really fucked him up. And it was all Spencer could think about. How did he let someone in like that? Hankel was a stranger. An addict. A victim. God, he was an unsub. Spencer was supposed to get in his head, not the other way around. How was he supposed to do this?

All of these thoughts consumed him through the case. Trying to detox on his own was getting more and more difficult by the hour. He just wanted to go home and grab his fix from the bathroom cabinets. He wasn’t seeing evidence he knew was there and he was snapping at everyone. Everything around him was uncomfortable and it hurt. The second they got off the plane he practically ran into the building, rushing to put away files so he could get home for his escape from anything and everything.

“Hey! Kid, wait up.” Derek called towards Spencer as he entered the elevator. Spencer pressed the button to keep the doors open and froze up when Derek walked in, obvious tension growing between them.

“Spencer, what’s been going on? You and me both know that you could’ve figured out that case a lot faster if there wasn’t something keeping your mind occupied. What’s up?” Derek looked at him with sincerity. There was zero ridicule in his voice and it felt free of judgement.

“Everything hurts, Derek,” Spencer started to break. “I don’t know if i can keep this up much longer, I don’t even know how I’ve gotten to now, I-”

“Hey, hey, hey, whoa, slow down, pretty boy. Start from the beginning.” Derek had his arm around Spencer’s shoulder and he leaned into the larger framed man, smelling the cologne on his neck.

“I- I’ve been uh, uh, I’ve been trying to get clean. The last couple of weeks I’ve been able to go hours without it but, I just- it was the case. I didn’t think to bring any with me and I- I-, Derek,” He looked up into the dark eyes that always softened when they looked at one another. “Derek, can you help me? Please? I don’t want to, but I need it.”

“Of course, kid. I’d do anything to help you. Do I need to stay with you overnight?” Derek pulled Spencer closer to his chest and smelled his hair. It was oily and needed to be washed, but still smelled like Spencer’s lavender shampoo.

“Yes. I have a stash in my bathroom cabinets.”

“And?”

“And in the air vents.” Spencer sighed as the elevator dinged and they stepped out, walking to Derek’s car and heading to the young genius’ apartment.

Before they even got all the way up the steps Spencer threw up in the bushes right outside his building. Derek rubbed his back and displeasingly watched as Spencer’s body shook with each heave and cough. When they got inside Derek poured the two of the glasses of water and forced Spencer to eat a couple of crackers before going to bed, just in case he had to throw up again.

He crashed on the couch after Spencer's breathing had evened out around midnight. Just two and a half hours later he heard pill bottles being tossed around coming from the bathroom. He ran in, surprised that the door was unlocked, and saw Spencer looking scared as he rummaged through the lower sink cabinets.

“Derek, where is it?”

When Derek didn’t respond Spencer got louder.

“DEREK, WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU PUT IT?!”

Derek was taken aback by the swearing, “Spencer, you need to calm down.” He put his hands on Spencer’s thin upper arms and gripped hard.

“I don’t need to ‘calm down’ Derek! I need the dilaudid.” Spencer snapped back, practically biting the air around Derek’s face and spitting.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Derek pushed Spencer down off of his feet and pinned him to the ground. Their chests heaved together and they felt each other's breath on their necks. Spencer began to thrash and try to roll away, but Derek just held his arms tighter around the frail man's arms.

With all dignity long forgotten and rationality out of the way, Spencer locked his lips to Derek’s. He didn’t expect the way Derek pushed up against him, causing Spencer to lean his head back into the floor. It made him moan and open his mouth slightly. Derek pulled away for just a second.

“Kiss me with your mouth open.”

And with that Derek took all of the permission he had been given to kiss Spencer with his tongue and moist lips. Spencer moaned again and rocked his body into Derek’s.

“Not tonight, kid,” Derek pulled away from Spencer again. “If I slept in the same bed as you, do you think you could fall back asleep?” Derek knew that Spencer’s cravings kept him up at night, but he also knew that his body being nearby was like taking melatonin for him.

“Mhm,” Spencer nodded and kissed Derek on the chin, fully expecting another kiss back. Instead Derek picked him up and brought him out to the bedroom. Spencer was laid back under the covers and Derek got in next to him. The two fell asleep quickly.

For the next five days Derek spent every moment with Spencer. He called in with Hotch to let him know that they were staying together and that they’d be okay. He sat through the sweats and complaints from not having coffee as it would make Spencer’s anxiety from withdrawals worse.

There wasn’t another case for two weeks. Maybe killers decided to take a break, or maybe it was the work of a courteous, blonde co-worker. Either way, Derek was going to take his opportunity.

They were in the elevators again but it was this time that Derek held the door for Spencer.

“How are you doin’ pretty boy?”

“I'm doing so well! I got my three week chip today! Are you proud?”

“Of course I’m proud, kid. How about you say we go out and celebrate? Just the two of us?” Derek looked at Spencer expectantly.

“Absolutely.”

Spencer would still get cravings sometimes. Hell, he was only three weeks clean, but at the same time, he was three weeks clean! Almost a month. He was no longer dancing with dilaudid, but he was dancing with Derek, a good kind of addiction.

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[dreamreiding]

Lost - Chapter 1 // Spencer Reid x Reader

Author’s Note: So this is a thing that I got the inspiration to write at about midnight last night, so I jotted down a couple quotes that struck me and an outline and here we are!! This will have multiple chapters, and I hope you enjoy!

  Warnings: Mentions of depression and depersonalization, angst.

  —–

  You didn’t mean to fall in love with him. You didn’t mean to become addicted to the way he became fully absorbed in everything he did. You didn’t mean to attach yourself to someone who was completely detached from reality. So why was everyone giving you such a hard time?

  You hadn’t told anyone how you felt about Spencer, but your fellow profilers didn’t have to do a lot of strenuous thinking to know how whipped you were for him. It showed in the way you would give him your full attention when he rambled about statistics and probabilities and things boy geniuses rambled about, even when everyone had lost interest long ago. It showed in the way you would snap him out of his daze of inattention so that he wouldn’t be questioned by the others. It showed in everything you did, whether you were around Spencer or not, it was as if everything you did was to protect him in some way. Of course they appreciated that someone loved Spencer as much as you did, especially after everything he had been through.

  Over the past few days especially, you felt like they were putting you on trial or hosting an intervention. Although you knew they had figured it out, they hadn’t said anything until recently, and you wished they would have kept it that way.

  “You know you’re just digging yourself into a hole, right?” Emily had asked one day. Of course you knew, Spencer had never shown affection for you the same way you did for him. “He’s just been so detached lately, of course none of us blame him, but he needs to let himself heal,” she would continue.

  “I know he needs to heal, I understand that perfectly. I am not trying to force him into any sort of commitment, I’m just trying to be someone he can lean on,” you told her.

  Spencer had confided in you more than anybody. It wasn’t always much, but you were always willing to listen, no matter what it was. No one knew Spencer had been going to you to talk to. One night in particular, he had knocked on your apartment door at precisely 3:34 A.M. in what seemed to be a drunken state. Once you had checked your peep hole to assure you knew the person, you opened the door a swollen eyed, red faced Spencer.

  “Hi. I’m sorry it’s so late - or, well, early, I guess. Technically it could go either way, but since it’s after midnight it is technically morn-”

  “Spence, have you been crying? And drinking? Actually, here’s a better question. Do you need anything?” you interrupted.

  “Yes, no, and yes. Can I come in please?” he croaked as if he had spent days sick in bed.

  “Yeah, of course,” you replied, opening the door wider so he could come in. You hadn’t even noticed that your conversation had been taking place in the hallway.

  He had poured his heart out to you that night. You couldn’t remember very many specific things that he said, given that it was a Monday night, you had just spent the day organizing case files, and had to spend the next day doing the same. Needless to say, exhaustion had begun to overtake your body and mind very early in the week. There was one thing, though, that stuck out like a sore thumb to you.

  “I just feel so lost. I feel like I’m watching a movie of my life instead of actually living it. Every move I make feels like I’m pushing through water, not fluid and connected like they used to be. My vision is hazy and when people talk to me it’s like I don’t even fully register it before I react,” he almost whispered. He was falling asleep on your couch as he continued to vent about everything he was feeling, and lack thereof. You knew that description anywhere, you had felt the exact same thing before.

  “Y/N, I can always talk to you, right?” he opened his eyes slightly as he muttered.

  “Always,” you promised. Not only to him, but to yourself. You refused to let his feelings go unheard.

  Chapter 2

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