#orphan disorders

[abyssbirds]

The fact that most of the tags under n24 have nothing to do with the disorder and that there's only a handful of posts under every single tag for it sure FEELS like ableism even though it might not be. But I have the time to talk about it so I might as well spread visibility.

(Info under read more)

N24, Non-24, or Non-24 Sleep-Wake Disorder, is a circadian rhythm disorder where your body doesn't run on a (roughly) 24-hour cycle like most people/people without the disorder itself. For example, my days run roughly 18-19 hours instead of a typical 16. My sleep gets later and later and later. I've tried melatonin, tried resetting my sleep schedule by staying up for >24 hours until a "normal" time for bed, and tried keeping ambient noise on like music or nature sounds. I've tried blue light filters. My days are just 26-27 hours instead of a normal 24, though every person with N24 is different.

It's primarily diagnosed in Blind patients, since the cause among Blind people with the disorder seems to be that not being able to see the transition from day to night makes their bodies not produce the proper sleep hormones at the right time.

Among sighted people, the cause seems to be unknown (last time I checked; just one person with the disorder should not be your only source of information!) and, since N24 among sighted people is more rare and less lucrative, it's an orphan disorder. There's not much research into how to help us sighted people with N24 because treatment is often pricey or not an actual solution, or it is aimed directly towards helping Blind people with N24.

As far as I know, there's apparently an implantable device in development. The main suggestions I see are training via sun lamps and melatonin or just trying to get on sleeping pills by lying about insomnia. There is a pill that can be taken, but if you live in the US, it is extremely expensive. So, essentially, this orphan disorder is overlooked and misdiagnosed, and those of us with it have to hope that one of the coin-toss methods of treating N24 works.

N24, even on its own, can be a very disabling disorder. You're either too-sleep deprived to do the things during the day you need to or are busy being asleep because the human body needs rest at some point. Socialization gets very difficult when your circadian rhythm is nocturnal for a couple of weeks. It's an isolating experience. It also makes it harder for people to work and make themselves money. I don't even know if N24 is something that can apply to an application for disability, though given it's not well-known, I doubt it is.

I'm not used to making informative posts like this, so I don't know how to end it, but please do some research into N24 on your own time--I am by no means a medical professional and my anecdotal explanation may contain errors. I just want people to know we exist.

#n24 #non24 #non-24 #non-24 sleep-wake disorder #non 24 sleep wake disorder #non24 sleep wake disorder #n24swd #disability #disability rights #disabled #disability pride #informative post #circadian rhythm #circadian rhythm disorder #disability advocacy #orphan disorders #orphaned disorders #poli #interesting #abysswords #long post

[lovelesslittleloser]

People should be more afraid of asexuals, because they’re the only people that are immune to one of the seven deadly sins

#seven deadly sins #maybe they have metaphorical lust. lust for the aesthetic #asexual #we also should fear aromantics but they aren’t necessarily immune to lust so fear them for the usual reasons #pride? sometimes can be negated by self-hatred but usually shows up when you do something to be proud of. as it should #greed? you might donate your money to orphans but if anyone touches your collection of shiny trinkets their hand will be removed #envy? unless you have never met any other living beings I don’t think it’s possible to escape this one #wrath? work in public service for a week and we’ll get you wanting to fistfight god #gluttony? eating disorders are a thing; however you should definitely eat something unless you wanna die #sloth? insomnia is a thing. but you should probably sleep if you don’t want to be driven mad upon the rocks #honestly too little of the seven deadly sins is also bad. no sloth? you’re barely functioning. no gluttony? you die of starvation. #no wrath? you’ll become a doormat. no envy? you’ll never want to improve yourself. no greed? you give all your stuff away and are now poor #no pride? you don’t love yourself AT ALL. no lust? no new generation. #and frankly that last one isn’t bad in the slightest considering that much is also true for people with a same-gender significant other #(unless they are also trans and willing but that’s a them problem to have) #plus overpopulation is a thing anyway so frankly the less lust the better. #the avatar of lust has been too overworked the past few decades and and wants a damn break for once #tw eating issues #tw eating disorder #eating disorder mention #shitpost

[brokenfrombirth]

💔💔

#mentally unstable #mentally ill #orphaned child #mental health #i miss you #mental disorder #borderline personality disorder #mentally exhausted #mental breakdown #emotionallyunstablepersonalitydisorder #emotionally drained #mental battle #heartbroken #loss #dead parents

[vinziel]

Woops it's time to determine which type of male reader do I write for?

#x male reader #male reader #chubby #chubby male reader #lab rats #lab experiment #gay #orphan #reader #eating disorder #ed #writing promts #writing promt #need ideas

[dandelionsmarkthegrave]

When karma finally comes knocking on your door, don't beg.

Take it.

Don't beg, take it and remember every time you told me that begging wouldn't help me.

Take every hit, like I did, when you were the one dealing out the beatings.

Don't you even dare to cry! You don't deserve to cry.

For everything you're getting is everything you did...

Every single hit, every single kick, every single belt cut, every single abandonment and psychological abuse will come back to you.

But don't you dare beg for mercy. You made your bed now lay in it and suffer for your actions

against a, your, helpless, scared and beyond broken child.

Because that's what I was. I was your child.

- i was your child; by me (your karma, a snippet from the book about my life)

#trauma #ptsd recovery #cptsd life #cptsd recovery #narcissistic abuse #physical abuse #23 years old #living with adhd #late diagnosed autistic #late diagnosis #adhd brain #traumatic childhood #abuse survivor #actually bpd #bpd struggles #auhd #disordered eating thoughts #complex dissociative disorder #childhood survival #orphaned live #living with anxiety #living without guilt #everyday survivor

[lilshitpeta]

#nepshita #big nepshita #the mundane day to day of big nepshita + hissquius #hissquius #lil shitpeta #the adventures of lil shitpeta + equihiss #shitpeta #rachel with st goodcause orphan hospital #nepshitas financial advisor #mild disorder #straightnaya #gonkba #random #random james #my other enemy mean bitch #pants #jobarina #jobarina tamjinjam #!!! #harold #photo of leprechaun 9-volt from warioware smooth moves #lixpaw

[r0st0v0rphan]

“And I know you want us to be together.

And I know it's hard to accept forever…

Our delusion is the easy way out.

But it's time for both of us to let this go.”

#whitechapel #metal #metalcore #grief #loss #no love #Rostov orphan #adoptee #reactive attachment disorder #let go #Spotify

[computerpeople]

me any time i see a character with no backstory: you know what. i bet theyre an orphan. and i BET they bit people like a dog

#fun fact about me: when i was a child i was diagnosed with a disorder that is almost exclusively diagnosed in orphans/foster kids JDSN!?@3M5 #IM NOT ONE. BUT I WAS PASSED AROUND BETWEEN ADUTLS A LOT SO? #txt

[nonhumen]

@chaosbled : It had started out small, almost something not even worth paying attention to; Chuuya had declined their usual takeout & movie date night, opting to cook something from scratch that evening after a long day. Work had been especially stressful the past few weeks, & cooking had always served to help calm his nerves… most of the time.

Unfortunately, spiralling bad habits can often start off innocuous. He’d ended up having to sleep at the office a few days, apologizing to Dazai profusely when he had a few minutes to talk on the phone with him. He barely had enough time to sleep or shower, let alone eat breakfast… or lunch, The kitchen at HQ was always stocked, but usually with shitty instant meals. He wanted to be home with Dazai, being teased because he went way overboard & cooked too much again. Before he knew it, that voice had sank its claws into him again. When he finally saw his partner again, it had been nearly a week since he’d been able to come home. He didn’t want instant noodles or leftover pizza. He’d just feel gross later.

He heard the door open from where he was currently cleaning out the cupboards. Choco pies, caramel popcorn, matcha marshmallows, cheese puffs, Pocky, why did they have so much junk? “ That you, babe? ” he called out softly, blue eyes peeking over his shoulder, tired & bruised. Chuuya hopped off the chair & went to greet the younger man, hugging him tightly, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “ Mm, I missed you. Give me a few minutes, I’m just tidying up & trying to figure dinner out. ” He said with a strained smile before turning his back on the brunet.

He kept pulling stuff out of the cupboards; crackers, chips, chocolate, fruit preserves in sweet syrups, jams, peanut butter… no, it was awful, how did he let it get so out of control? It all needed to go. “ God, there’s so much shit in here. It’s all fucking sugar, I… we can’t eat this, I can’t feet you any of this crap. I-I need to go pick up fresh produce, but everything is surely closed by now— ”

Chuuya’s limbs were trembling faintly, his complexion pale & sallow in the kitchen lighting, his hair unbrushed in its halfhearted bun as he pulled another package out of their pantry & turned it over to read the nutritional table on the back. His tongue darted out to run over cracked lips. Why wasn’t there anything good to eat? The redhead threw the package in the sink, frustrated. “ Fuck. Nothing’s right. I wanted to have dinner ready before you got home, but there’s nothing here, & I look like shit. Sorry, Dazai. God, I’m such a shitty partner, I— I’m sorry. ”

Angry & embarrassed, Chuuya spun on his heel & left the kitchen. He went to their bedroom & immediately collapsed on the bed, exhaustion pulling him way too thin emotionally as the tears began falling, fingers digging into the blankets as he squeezed his eyes shut. He felt nauseous & cold & …sad. God, it was pathetic, he was twenty-two & crying because of fucking food. What the hell was the matter with him?

Why couldn’t he ever do anything right?

as a former executive, dazai understands that things get busy. he had been there by mori to rewrite the book on many of the mafia's policies and then became in charge of enforcing many of them. he remembers the long nights, the times he would fall asleep in mori's office from overwork or exhaustion. chuuya's absence because of work doesn't bother him because of this. he misses him, certainly, but he always reassures his partner that everything is alright whenever chuuya can spare time to call him.

what does bother him is the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach when he arrives at their shared apartment after a week of sleeping back in the agency's dorms. chuuya had made a very big deal about cooking dinner for the two of them that night and something was immediately off when he wasn't greeted with the wonderful aromas of a homemade meal. what he finds instead is chuuya mumbling to himself, obsessively scouring the kitchen with many half-opened packages filling the trash.

he recognizes this behavior and is internally kicking himself for not making sure chuuya was eating properly. dazai knows more than anyone how easy it is to fall back into bad habits. he should have looked out for him, isn't that what partners are supposed to do? face falls when he sees the state of the redhead is in. those eyes and that skin is all too familiar. back then, dazai had been too lost in his own darkness to be of any help to chuuya. now needs to be different.

" chuuya-- " his partner slips out of his grasp before he has a chance to hold on tight. dazai can tell he's just going through the motions, mind still in the kitchen. the detective takes off his coat and shoes as he watches chuuya continue pulling things from the cupboards. now he's properly worried as he steps into their apartment. dazai reaches out towards chuuya to stop him as he would any time the other was forced to use corruption. this is simply a different kind of corruption and, to dazai, just as destructive.

i'm sorry. outstretched hand freezes at the words. eyes widen as he hears the pain and the defeat in chuuya's voice. no, it's wrong. it's so wrong to hear that coming from him. chuuya, who has given dazai more than he ever considered he was deserving of. chuuya, who loves so deeply and so fully that dazai can drown in it. chuuya, who forgave him over and over no matter how much pain dazai puts him through. he wonders if this is how the other feels to find dazai alone and broken in his own darkness.

he follows after him, standing in the doorway to watch the mafia boss bury his face in the blankets. and still he follows him. dazai rests on the bed, head near chuuya's as he reaches out to pull at the messy bun of amber locks. " i don't care, " he says quietly. fingers run through chuuya's hair gently, soothingly. " i don't care that dinner isn't ready or how you look. " despite his playful attitude and annoying jabs, dazai has never truly asked for much. " i'm just glad you finally got to come home. " all he has ever wanted is his warmth.

#chaosbled #𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 : ALL AN ACT / IC #𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 : THE ONES WHO SAVE ORPHANS / ADA VERSE #eating disorder tw #they're gay your honor

[yardsards]

yeah you're totally right on the little miss perfect amity thing. i think it's a case of like. there are certain parts of that song that fit amity, so some people said ''oh hey this song fits amity'' because if you look at it in a very broad sense, yeah, it works. captures the general trope amity can fit into. the kind of thing you'd steal a lyric from for a fanfic title or fanart caption, but doesn't wholly represent the character.

but then people saw that and took it as ''this song = amity'' point blank, which... never works. a song is almost never going to completely fit a character unless it was literally written about them, especially not when it's as specific as little miss perfect is. but the fandom perception became amity = little miss perfect, so they started tweaking their perception of amity to fit the song, rather than tweaking the message of the song to fit amity, as is what should be done when relating characters to songs. and now, since it's The Amity Song, it's become incredibly pervasive in fanon and that's a big chunk of how people think the character is, when the show doesn't really support that.

yeah! exactly!!! you put it into words better than i could

that interpretation has at least died down somewhat but it still lingers in places

it's interesting, you so rarely see one single piece of fanwork (in this case i'm referring to the original animatic that someone made of the song with amity) have such a lasting impact on fanon

and like, i must clarify, i think there was nothing wrong with that animatic, it was done decently well, and the connection they made between the character and the song was fresh and interesting. but it's when the fandom started treating it as canon rather than just a nice fanwork that things got bluhhh

#eliot posts #toh #the owl house #amity blight #sidenote i think i need a tag for asks i receive #sidenote sidenote: #ive been writing a lot about amity lately bc i am rewatching s1 #and she was my fav character by a pretty big margin back then #bc she was the one who had the most glaring Problems Disorder and i love me a character with a few Issues to relate to #(my second fav was eda. primarily on the basis that i wanted her to be my mom and imprinted on her like an orphaned duckling) #but s2 has given everyone so much depth so amity no longer has such a lead over everyone else

[sunset-peril]

Ashes Remain (A Man Named Terran #2) - Chapter One - Trial Interrupted

December 16, 2027

10:00am

District Courtroom Number Four

~~~~

"Hey, Hey!" A man in a bulletproof police uniform rushed the stand. "There's a live bomb! The bomb's been reactivated!"

Pandemonium flooded the courtroom as the gallery fled the courtroom.

"Apollo!" The red-vested lawyer's young co-worker pulled his arm. Her eyes darted around in terror, and her personal AI glitched around her neck. "Come on, Apollo!"

"No! I can't let it end like this!"

"Stay with me, Apollo!" Her brute strength overcame his reluctance, and they began to move.

He heard a scream, and yanked away from her. "Keep going! I'm right behind you!"

That was the last thing Athena remembered before pain blazed through the sides of her head, then stabbed the back, and her vision went black.

~~~~

December 16th, 2027

11:00am

Central Japanifornia High School English Department.

~~~~

It was family week at CJHS. Normally, such celebrations were reserved for the lower level schools, but the week-long celebration of family relationships was part of a greater study on the effects family had on the societal state of the youth.

Big words aside, it was a study to see if certain types of mental and physical states were directly connected to the presence, or lack of presence, of the student's family.

Trucy Wright had narrowly escaped being auto-sorted into the 'suspected personality issues' group. The study had already suggested imbalances with orphans, especially when the individual aged out of the foster system. She already knew this because her brother, or she called him her brother, Apollo Justice, was called on to be tested for the Aged-Out group. His special someone (as her best friend Pearl always designated), Athena Cykes, was also an orphan. She was pulled for two different groups. One was orphans who moved in with relatives instead of being surrendered to the foster system. Athena wouldn't talk about the other. At least not around her. Daddy knew, and she guessed Apollo knew too, but Athena kept very tight lips.

This made sense, as Athena was legally insane. She knew she'd be a bad mark for orphans. She was sweet as Pearl's rice cakes from her hometown of Kurain Village, but that designation would follow her the rest of her life.

Apollo wasn't the greatest advocate for orphans in the study either. Her brother in spirit had severe attachment issues. He was cynical, sarcastic and experienced episodes of heightened anxiety whenever suddenly separated from one of the three of them. He reacted the most when separated from Athena, which made her dad, the legendary Phoenix Wright, designate them as an official legal team so the court would automatically assign them both to every case they worked on. Justice n' Cykes, the Wright Anything Agency's shining stars in the darkness of the law.

No one explained exactly to Trucy what the Dark Age was, just that it caused her to lose her real daddy, Apollo, to become naturally distrustful, and traumatized Athena to the point she eventually moved in with Apollo to find respite from her nightmares.

At least, it was all like that until recently.

Apollo's friend died suddenly yesterday morning.

He didn't come home to Athena last night. Daddy was on the phone with her all night, trying to soothe her fears.

They started fighting at work. Athena hadn't come home the night before, and he demanded to know where she'd been after the initial investigation. She couldn't answer.

Daddy removed her from the room.

Being taken away while her brother and the woman she'd been certain he loved fought was frightening. Was this the Dark Age? Of course they had to have their huge fight the day of Family Intros. How was she supposed to introduce her family? She had her daddy, her brother, and her brother's girlfriend, but her brother suddenly started yelling and throwing things at his girlfriend, who happened to be insane?

She thought everything was going to be better now. Apollo was always happier with Athena, and Athena with him. The only thing she was lacking was a mom, which her and Pearl were working on behind the scenes. She didn't want to see Justice n' Cykes fight, it worried her.

At least her and Pearl were alright. Pearl had basically been raised by her dad and Pearl's cousin Mystic Maya (who was Trucy and Pearl's choice for a new mother) after her mother was convicted of murder, and would have been in the same group as Athena if she'd been just a few months older. She'd been telling Pearl about everything: Apollo's friend suddenly dying, him and Athena fighting. Pearl was glad to note they seemed a little more normal this morning when she left for school: Apollo kissed her head and bopped her hat and Athena was happily blabbering on about this and that before giving Trucy a bottle of orange juice, lemon bars for the whole class she'd baked to keep her mind off things, and a prop she'd polished for the day's presentation; though a bit removed from Apollo.

They both seemed removed from each other, but considering Apollo didn't go home last night, she supposed that wasn't too odd. It was definitely awkward for her when they arrived at different times.

Phoenix had texted her about 8:45 to tell her the pair had finally started talking to each other, but captioned it with the fact he'd rather have been with his daughter at school; it was awkward at the office.

She decided to ignore yesterday's events when she was called up, and had the happiest picture of the Agency she could find to show her class. "This is my family. Officially, it's only me and my daddy, Phoenix Wright. But the man in the red on the left is basically my brother, Apollo Justice. Daddy had asked Apollo if he wanted to officially be adopted, but he didn't want to. Polly's a lawyer, and wanted to reserve the court's time for adopting little kids and not his twenty-three year old self. But he did accept being considered part of the family. The lady on the right is his girlfriend, Athena Cykes. She's a doctor of psychology, and Apollo's legal partner. She's an orphan like Polly, but they seem to have a pretty good idea of family when they're together. She made the food I brought for the snack bar, and is only two years older than I am! I really look up to her when I need to know what a strong woman is. She can throw Apollo! That's actually how they met, she accidentally threw a full-grown cop onto him!"

The class erupted into laughter, and so did Trucy. Remembering the happier times helped her worry less about the current situation. At least until the phone rang.

"Of course, yes, I'll send her right away." Her teacher looked in her direction. "Trucy, you've been called to the front office. Checked out."

"Oh, okay! Thank you." Trucy handed the pointer back to her teacher and gathered her things.

"Tell Athena the lemon bars are really good!" Pearl muttered with mouth full. "I bet that'll make her happy!"

"That will make her day, Pearlie. I'll see ya later."

She carried her backpack out to the main office, where Prosecutor Gavin and Detective Skye sat uncomfortably on the carpeted chairs, muttering amongst themselves. It was Gavin's silence that struck her the most. Ema was like Apollo, with that no nonsense personality. Gavin though, was like Athena on a sugar rush. She expected the former rockstar to be flirting with the detective, strumming on a guitar the tune of 'Guilty Love' or 'The Guitar's Serenade.' He remained silent and subdued. "Ah, Fraulein Wright. Good."

"Prosecutor Gavin? Are you and Detective Skye here for me?"

"Yes, Trucy. Your father's gone on ahead, and requested us to pick you up." Ema held open the door and Klavier escorted Trucy out.

"Gone on ahead? Prosecutor Gavin, what happened to Daddy?"

"Nothing happened to Herr Wright... it was Herr Forehead and Sunshine."

They climbed into Ema's compact little car, sitting in excruciating silence. "What...? What happened?"

Ema bit her lip and crammed a fistful of Snackoos into her mouth, Klavier took a few too and munched nervously.

If it had something to do with Athena and Apollo's fight, the whole legal world must know. "What happened to Polly and Thena, Ema?"

She sighed, sliding out a box of tissues from under the dash. "There was a bomb, in the courtroom..." She nodded.

"W-what about the bomb? Polly and Thena are okay, right?"

"Fraulein, your so-called brother and his... special companion were inside the building when the bomb exploded. Their bodies were found in the rubble by the search team. Your father is at the hospital now awaiting their condition. We will meet him there, and hope for the best. From what I heard from the first response team, " His face tightened into that serious gesture that humorously reminded Trucy of an emoticon, though it was anything but humorous now. "we should expect they passed instantly."

They received a text while on their way:

Currently alive, not well. Over 70% of P's burns 3rd degree. Being kept under. T in surgery. Brain hemorrhaging in back brain from impact. Neither guaranteed.

#athenacykes #fanfiction #booksivewritten #ace attorney #athena cykes #apollo justice #apollojustice #trucywright #trucy wright #ace attorney trucy #klavier gavin #ema skye #pearl fey #Apollo Justice has Attachment Issues #attachment issues #attachment disorder #All this happens in the context of a study about orphan mental states #justicykes #justicykes for the win #pearl fey is such a shipper #dualdestinies #dual destinies #aa courtroom bombing #phoenix wright ace attorney #aceattorney #aa5 #a man named terran #plot points brought to you by resident dumb dumb apollo justice #ashes remain #klavier gavin's face literally looks like >:(

[qlala]

being haunted by the coldflash notting hill au wip in my google docs tonight… when will this bitch (me) update

#mentally i am putting barry in a mason jar and shaking it violently #all that pretty boy orphan w/ a tragic backstory but what if he were also a closet case w/ an eating disorder #& also what if lisa was his friend :)

[yuwigqi]

HC an actual real forensic psychologist interviews Joker, and realizes he does not meet the legal requirements for being mentally unfit to stand trial (TRUE), and the jury finds he does not meet the requirements for criminal insanity (TRUE) and he is sentenced to death and just like actually successfully executed by Belle Reve Penitentiary.

Batman's official statement "I do not kill. However, I do not give formal statements in political issues, such as the death penalty. If Joker escapes, I will send him back to Belle Reve, regardless of whatever sentencing he receives. I am a Vanguard. I am not a New Jersey Apex Court Justice. Sentencing is outside my jurisdiction or personal interests. Thank you."

Orphan's statement is "I believe wholeheartedly in the sanctity of life. However, I am not opposed to euthanasia."

Red Hood gets hired as a literal Seasonal Summer Worker for Belle Reve, and stands guard.

Barbara Gordon gets hired as Belle Reve Archivist.

Duke Thomas speaks publicly about the Justice System's constant ignorance of the realities of Mental Illness, and the pathologization of acts of violence as mental illness, as well as how white men are frequently given passes for violence by the justice system.

The Joker is executed on April 1st. He is cremated, and his ashes are used in compost alongside goat and pig manure.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel is tried as well, and actually found criminally insane, and after 1 year in psychiatric hospital, and triweekly therapy, she has shown proof of improvement and rehabilitation, 2 years after that, her licensure is reinstated. Instead of going into patient practice, she does psychiatric research, and publishes several papers on the interactions of PTSD and psychotic disorders, as well as developing counseling treatments for domestic abuse and cult survivors.

"Jokes on You Day" becomes a national holiday.

#The Joker #Harley Quinn #Duke Thomas #Signal #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Batfam #Cassandra Cain #Orphan #Black Bat #Barbara Gordon #Oracle #Genuinely long considered writing a fic on this #But I really do not want to write that much Joker dialogue lol

[americancrossglobal]

Disorders Caused By Trauma: Everything You Need To Know

The aid or support to get relief against post-traumatic stress disorder or disorders caused by trauma can be the best choice for everyone who is facing many mental health repercussions. There are many things that may trigger post-traumatic stress disorder, especially if people are not aware of how to deal with it. It is very important for people to get rid of the chaotic life filled with post-traumatic stress disorder repercussions as they may not lead a healthy life with it. Are you someone who always suffers finding the most unrivaled way to stay away from the tough disorders caused by trauma without chaos? If Yes. Continue reading this blog for the best information about ways that help veterans to eradicate the chaos and issues of disorders caused by trauma.

Generally, the disorders caused by trauma can be extremely dangerous as they will disturb your mental health in the worst manner. It is very important or essential for people or folks to have the right knowledge of how to get rid of the disorders caused by trauma. Don’t worry! People can easily avoid the chaos of trauma if they get the right type of support and assistance from top experts and platforms. The best experts and professionals will work in a selfless manner to help all the veterans suffering from trauma or other mental health issues due to wars or other events. It is very essential for veterans to get rid of the traumatic phase as they may not live happily due to various traumatic repercussions.

#Disorders Caused By Trauma #Help For Veterans With PTSD #Ukraine Displaced Persons #Support For Veterans With Ptsd #Pandemic Orphaned Children #Help For Homeless Veterans

[humouragainstreality]

my father died.

there is nothing left.

#cptsdsurvivor #severe depression #i need a hug #anxiety disorder #i give up #orphan #grief #death #loss

[sundrop-writes]

Careful - Chapter Five

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter Five: Brick By Boring Brick

Her prince finally came to save her, and the rest you can figure out. 

Summary:

The world is closing in around you. You're supposed to sit in your home and wait for a killer to come to you, and your son seems to prefer a man that you were convinced never should have been in his life in the first place.

What happened? Where did you go wrong?

The only way to find out is to reflect on the past - and to perhaps, forgive something you once thought was unforgivable.

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst.

Word Count: 9,700

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: again, general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder, stalking; the reader character is being victimized by a serial killer; angst - lots of emotional angst; the reader character and Spencer argue and hash things out; this chapter shows the flashback of how their relationship ended; mentions of drugs/drug use/drug addiction - there is mentions of Spencer’s drug addiction after the incident with Tobias Hankel; mentions of the reader having an eating disorder (in the past, before meeting Spencer); mentions of how pregnancy can affect eating disorders; mentions of the reader having an absent father; mentions of Spencer’s trauma/PTSD after the Hankel incident; mentions of lack of hygiene/lack of cleaning his apartment due to trauma and depression; Spencer uses his profiling skills to insult the reader; I believe that is it for this chapter.

A/N: This is it! This is the big chapter where we all find out what happened for them to break-up! I hope everyone enjoys it. (I am not gonna lie, I am really starting to mentally stall with this series, and I am really eager to work on something else lmao. So let's hope I can stick it out and get it done.)

...

Spencer considered lying to you. 

He knew that you were going to have a hard time taking the news - there was no safehouse, no protective custody. Just him. Everything he had been offering before, nagging you about - it wasn’t truly being offered to you now. You would take it harder because now, in a sense, you and your son were being used as bait to lure the killer out and catch him in the act. 

He considered lying to you. But he knew that it would ruin all the progress that the two of you had made. 

So he made what he hoped was the right choice. He laid it all out for you as plainly as he could. They needed to catch him into the act, or he might choose a different victim. More innocent women might get hurt, their children being orphaned in the process. There would be unmarked cars stationed nearby, ready to help when Spencer called them in. 

He would be there to protect you. 

You still had a glisten of tears in your eyes, and he thought that you were going to panic. He was surprised when you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him again - but he embraced you tightly, feeling a certain selfish joy at having you back in his arms. 

“As long as you’re here to protect me.” You sniffled quietly, burying your face in his chest once again. 

“I’m not going to leave you.” He promised. “I don’t care what happens - I won’t let you out of my sight until we catch him.” 

You didn’t bring up the fact that this likely meant sleeping in the same bed with Spencer. You weren’t sure if that was something you were looking forward to or dreading. 

… 

Spencer encouraged you to go about your usual routine - especially because he didn’t want Sebastian to be afraid or paranoid, even if such a smart boy could sense that you were upset and didn’t understand why. 

Sebastian was easily distracted from the underlying tension when he realized that Spencer would be around to tuck him into bed. 

He became so ripe with excitement that you thought it might be difficult for him to sleep. Even though his bed time wasn’t officially until later, he skipped his evening TV time to rush up the stairs so that Spencer would come with him. He insisted that Spencer help him pick out his pajamas, and then he wanted to show Spencer his toothbrush that played Moonlight Sonata (a toothbrush that was designed to play exactly two minutes of a song so that kids knew how long to brush their teeth). 

You followed them upstairs and any efforts you made to help - showing Spencer which drawer the pjs were in and pointing to the drawer with the toothpaste in it - you were brushed off by Sebastian, who insisted that they didn’t need your help. He only wanted help from his new best friend. 

Observing the whole thing truly made you wonder what the past four years of your life would have been like with Spencer there. 

It caused a kind of lovesick nostalgia to flood you. Something that overtook you as you watched Spencer kneel down by the sink to get on Sebastian’s level, quietly complimenting him on his brushing technique and reminding him not to miss any spots - ready with a cloth to wipe your son’s face when he was all done. 

You could only imagine how sweet he would have been with the newborn, tightly swaddled Seb; how he would have taken care of you so well after you gave birth, how perfect he would have looked with a baby in his arms. All of it left you stewing in regret, and you tried incredibly hard to hide a frown from Sebastian for the dozenth time that day. 

Soon, Sebastian was rushing to jump into bed, and shouting an all too familiar request. 

“Mommy, the stars!” He cheered brightly, pointing toward the lightswitch. 

Spencer’s expression grew confused at this, and you felt a tingle of delight surge over the fear and anxiety for the first time in hours. 

You turned off the lights, and then you walked over to a bookshelf on the far side of the room - on top of which, you had set up a star projector for Sebastian. It was something you had gotten for him as a night light when he was still very little. Even if it was an unconscious whim at the time - you couldn’t deprive Spencer’s son of the stars. 

You switched it on and an array of bright stars were projected onto the ceiling, causing Spencer’s neck to crane upward in awe. Sebastian giggled in delight and flung himself backward in bed to look at it. 

“He usually sleeps with this on as a night light, but he’s probably gonna want a story before he goes to sleep.” You said, motioning toward the book shelf. “You can turn the side lamp on.” You pointed to that as well. “Are you guys gonna be okay while I go get my pjs on?” 

You knew that Spencer wasn’t likely to let you out of his sight - and that was exactly the look that came in his eyes; hesitant dread, clear to you even through the semi-darkness with the bright swirling lights moving across the ceiling reflected onto his face. 

“Don’t lock your door.” He told you quietly. “And make sure to holler if you need anything.” 

He chose his words carefully, not wanting to alarm Sebastian. 

“I’ll be fine.” You assured him. “I’m right down the hall.” 

Then you turned to Sebastian - who was laying on his back, still admiring the stars, already looking sleepy. He’d had quite an exciting, usual day - so that wasn’t entirely surprising to you. 

“I’ll come back and kiss you goodnight in a minute, okay?” You told him. “Spencer is gonna read you your goodnight story. Sounds good?” 

“Yeah!” Sebastian easily agreed. “I love you, Mommy!” 

That grin, those big eyes looking up at you - it really reminded you why all the pain was worth it. That you would do anything to protect him. 

“I love you, too, Seb.” You leaned down and kissed his forehead, and then you moved to walk out of the room. 

He added something on that caught you off guard, though, causing you to freeze in the doorway. 

“Mommy?” He called out, and you turned back to look at him. “Can Spencer stay forever?” 

You felt as though a fist had been jammed into your throat. 

All of your bones were concrete stiff, and you couldn’t bear a single glance in Spencer’s direction - you felt his eyes on you, but you couldn’t face him. 

“We - we’ll talk about it more tomorrow, okay?” You replied, having to clear your throat roughly in order to get the words out. 

“Okay.” Sebastian huffed quietly, rolling into a yawn. 

When you left the room, Spencer felt an intense temptation to follow you simply to pursue that subject - but he had an obligation toward his son now. Something he hadn’t had the privilege of partaking in before. 

A simple bedtime story. 

Spencer settled in with Sebastian and you rushed down the hallway toward your room. You closed the door behind you (not locking it) - the second that you were alone, the tears rushed out before you could stop them. 

Of course your son had missed his father’s presence in his life. Even if he didn’t know that Spencer was his father - their personalities were so well-matched, and Spencer was so good with him. 

How could you have been so stupid? Who were you to deny a child of his father? 

You walked over to your bed and sat on the edge, and then you took your jewelry box out of your bedside table drawer - you kept it right next to the lock box that contained your gun. You opened the jewelry box and took out the star necklace that Spencer had given you, staring at the pendant in the middle of your palm with deep contemplation. 

You had broken up with him for a good reason. Many good reasons. And you had known your reasons back then - and they had been life-altering. Back then - it felt like choosing between a secure life for your baby and choosing the chaos of chasing the life of your love. Back then - Spencer was so unstable. He hadn’t been fit to raise a child. 

The Spencer who had swept you off your feet and treated you like a princess - the man who had given you the necklace; he was not the same person you had faced down, vicious and bitter on the night that you had broken up with him. 

But that man who gave you the necklace - it felt like the same man who held you in the kitchen and promised that nothing would happen to you. It felt like the same man who looked at your son like he had hung each and every star in the sky. 

You put the necklace back on with shaking hands, struggling to clasp it for a moment. You hoped that it would be an omen. The man who had given you this necklace was back, to stay - he could raise a family with you. He could be your stability. He could be what you and Seb needed. 

Then, you tried to shut off your mind as you went about getting ready for bed yourself. Even though you were pretty certain that you weren’t going to sleep with all this hanging over your head, it was still nice to be in comfortable clothing; to have a routine. You did your nightly skincare (but you didn’t bother to brush your teeth, knowing that you were likely going to want some coffee soon), put on your pajamas, and uncaring if Spencer noticed - shed your bra, needing to relieve some tension from somewhere. 

You left the room wearing a pair of loose, thin pajama pants and a large tee shirt with Garfield on the front of it; along with your slippers and an unzipped hoodie. You had the necklace freely untucked from the neckline of your shirt, knowing that Spencer would spot the silver chain and know what it was anyway. 

He was a profiler, so he could read you like a book anyway. You hated that. 

When you walked back to Sebastian’s room, you found it oddly quiet. 

You were surprised that you didn’t hear the sounds of Spencer’s soothing voice reading a story, Sebastian’s laughter - his small voice egging Spencer on to read more even though it was time to go to sleep. 

You stood out of view, just beyond the doorway for a moment before you decided to peer inside. 

The sight inside made your chest twist with a very unique kind of pain. 

Spencer was laying half on the small single bed, one of his feet on the floor to keep himself from falling off completely, his head awkwardly propped up against the headboard. Sebastian was about half a foot off the wall, cuddled up closely to Spencer, his head laid in the middle of Spencer’s chest. The Rubble plushy that Spencer had gotten him was curled up under his chin, Spencer’s arm gently petting his curly hair while he peacefully slept on top of his father for the first time in his short life. 

The way Spencer looked at him was what truly broke your heart. 

You knew that was the gaze of a man who had missed so much - whose own heart was breaking from all the time he had missed. Someone who was enjoying this moment more than anything in his life because he had missed out on so much of Sebastian before this. 

After a few moments of you standing in the doorway silently, tears gathering in your eyes, Spencer felt your presence there. He was finally able to tear his gaze away from Sebastian’s gentle, sleeping face to look up at you. 

“He said he wanted to hear ‘a new story’.” Spencer told you. “I started reciting The Old Man and The Sea from memory, and he only got about five pages in before he fell asleep.” 

It didn’t surprise you that Spencer knew the novel by heart. It didn’t surprise you that his theatrical, meditative speaking voice had so easily soothed Sebastian to sleep. 

You nodded, and deeply against your will - a thick tear rolled down your face. 

Unable to face it any longer, you left once again - feeling like a prisoner in your own home, running from corner to corner in a poor attempt to avoid the inevitable. You rushed to the kitchen and clicked on the coffee machine before you began attending to the larger dishes from dinner - pots you had left to soak in the sink that you now wanted to scrub at in an effort to distract yourself.

Spencer felt a sense of urgency rise up in him when he saw you start crying (seemingly out of nowhere). He hated watching you run away from him for the dozenth time that day. 

Any calm he had felt from watching his son fall asleep was chased out of him. But of course, he didn’t want to wake the peacefully sleeping boy, so he had to very slowly, very carefully wiggle out from underneath the sleeping boy. He adjusted Sebastian’s head onto the pillow, making sure to cover him up and tuck him in with his toy before he left the room - leaving the bedroom door slightly ajar behind him, with the star lights still circling the ceiling. 

And then he practically raced downstairs to see you. 

What had he done to upset you? 

You wanted him to be a part of his son’s life, right? You wanted him to be a good father, right? 

What the hell had he done to upset you now? 

When he came into the kitchen, you were standing at the sink with your back to him, furiously scrubbing at one of the pots from dinner. 

“What the hell happened?” He sighed, tired and frustrated. “What the hell could I have possibly done now?” 

“You didn’t do anything.” You replied, your voice short, angry, and still choked off by tears. 

In truth, it was your most honest view of the situation. 

This made Spencer spike with an even deeper frustration. 

He thought that the two of you had been making progress. But now, you were cutting him off again. You were trying to placate him with lies when he so badly wanted the truth. He wanted to air it all out. The two of you needed it out - out it in the open instead of festering away like a damn secret.  

“No, no.” He pressed, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms, swarming with bitterness. “Come on, I must have done something.” 

You remained silent, letting out a single sniffle as you continued to scrub - the only sound going through the kitchen being the sloshing of water through the sink and the bubbling of the coffee maker. 

“Trust me, I know how it is.” Spencer sighed. “I don’t open up enough, I don’t trust you… it’s always my fault.” 

In the months after the break-up, he had done a lot of thinking. He had gone over it in his head again and again - he had picked apart his own flaws in his mind, wondering how he could have been better for you. 

“That’s just it.” You replied, your throat closing up due to your own tears. “You’re perfect.” You sniffled again. “You didn’t do anything.” 

This left Spencer silent and confused - wondering for a moment if you were being sarcastic. 

You put down the sponge and grabbed a dry dish cloth off to the side, drying your hands as you turned back to Spencer. 

When he caught your eyes, he knew then that it wasn’t sarcasm. You were swimming in sadness, turmoil, but most of what he could see was guilt. You didn’t blame him for any of this. 

“Y/N-” 

“All day, you’ve been perfect.” You huffed out, cutting him off. “I’ll be honest, at first, I thought it was an act. I thought you were just playing at it, trying to show me that you could be a good father to get in my good graces. To maybe get me back.” 

Spencer was hurt by this. But with the way you had started off the sentence, that didn’t seem to be your opinion now. He remained silent, letting you continue to get the full stream of your thoughts out. 

“I didn’t think you’d be able to keep it up. I thought something would happen. I thought you’d slip… but then, I realized: you can’t fake it. You’re not faking it. The way you are… you’ve changed. You really have changed.” You sighed. 

He was glad to hear that, but he knew that there was something else. Now, he was determined to find out why you were upset. 

“Look-” 

“Did I hallucinate the whole thing?” You spoke suddenly. “I just feel so crazy… Did I really break up with you for no fucking reason?” 

This stung Spencer. 

He knew that there had been a myriad of good reasons at the time. But something he had gone over in his mind, stewing with regret over and over again - he had never wanted it to be a break-up. He had wished over and over again that the two of you could have worked on things instead of just ending them so suddenly. 

“You did have your reasons back then.” Spencer admitted quietly. “I know that you did.” Then, after a moment, he felt the need to add on: “I… I know they were good reasons. I don’t blame you for wanting to end the relationship.” 

He chose his words carefully in that sense. 

He fully understood ending the relationship. That was your choice. But the one thing that still plagued him- 

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that you were pregnant?” He asked, entirely exasperated. 

It was as though he had flipped the knife around, plunging it into you this time. 

You remained stunned and silent, not prepared to be confronted by the question, and Spencer, utterly hurt, continued on. 

“You stole four years of his life from me! Four years!” He shouted, his words whipping at you in a way that made you flinch. “And you were never planning on telling me! You were gonna let me miss everything! His first day of school, his college graduation, his wedding! You never wanted me in his life! You-!” 

“Because you weren’t good enough for him!” You shouted back, utterly defensive. 

You hated that you couldn’t take it back - you hated the pain that flooded across Spencer’s features. 

“Not back then.” You added on, knowing that it was barely a worthy addendum. “The man I left standing in that apartment wasn’t someone I wanted to raise a child with-” 

“How is that any excuse?” Spencer spit back bitterly. 

You glared at him. 

You had your reasons then. It felt like you were on trial, now, though. And you had to scramble to put together a defense - to explain it to him when he had been the accused in the crime at the time. 

“You really can’t understand why I didn’t tell you that I was pregnant?” You gaped, still defensive. 

“No, I really don’t get it.” He agreed, shaking his head. “You had to know that I would have done anything to become a father. No matter what, I would have stepped up, I-” 

“Oh, don’t give me that!” 

You were raising your voice now, years old anger bubbling up in your veins, awoken by his self righteous attitude - his foggy nostalgia when viewing his past self. 

“It was bad, Spencer. It was a bad time. And you can’t tell me with all honesty that you would have turned it around like that,” You snapped your fingers to help demonstrate the point. “Just because you found out that when you came inside me, it stuck.” 

“I would have tried.” Spencer pressed. 

“But you wouldn’t have tried for me?” You replied desperately. 

That stung you deep, tearing open some of the wounds you still had from that night. 

It was something you had suspected, but you had never heard him confirm it for certain. 

When you had been back there, begging him to change - he had turned on you. You alone weren’t good enough for him. 

Spencer’s face fluctuated rapidly between shock and discomfort, and with no words from him, you continued. 

“A baby would have been enough for you, but when I was sobbing, begging you to get better - that wasn’t good enough?” You continued, fresh tears clutching at your throat, beginning to simulate the sight he had been met with on the night you had broken up. 

It was a terrible mirror. You standing in front of him, your face a picture of pure pain with glassy tears dancing in your eyes - begging him for answers, begging him to show that he loved you. That he would step up and improve out of love for you. 

Because that’s what it was. 

It hit him so suddenly then. 

He saw that night - that deadly, world ending fight - in a whole new light now. 

… 

Just before the break-up, you and Spencer hadn’t officially moved in together, but you did have a key to his apartment. Moving in together was supposed to be the next logical step in your relationship, and he was heavily considering asking you to move in with him. 

Well, he had been thinking about it - before his entire world was turned upside-down by a man named Tobias Hankel. When he came home scarred and emotionally chaotic, thinking about taking ‘next steps’ in life wasn’t really something he was doing. 

Instead, he was in survival mode. And for the first time in his life, he was trying to do as little thinking as possible. Whenever he spent too much time in his own head, he had nightmares - he found himself back in that tiny room, strapped down to that chair, cold and unable to escape, with death looming over his head. 

He hated that he relied on the drugs to drown it all out. 

Among the mess that he often found between his ears - he often forgot that you had a key to his place. 

When he came home that night, he was expecting to take a particularly heavy hit that would hopefully put him right into a long, dreamless sleep. He definitely did not expect you to be there. It wasn’t something that the two of you had discussed beforehand. If you had asked to come over, he likely would have said no. He squinted against the lights as he opened the door to his apartment and a particular wave of nausea hit him as the smell of food cooking hit his nose. 

Perhaps it was that ironic kind of nausea that only comes after starving for so long. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. Of course, his body seemed to run perfectly fine on nothing but coffee and that precious thing that felt so heavy in his pocket. As far as he knew, he didn’t need to eat. 

“Spencer?” You called out his name when you heard the door creaking on its hinges, and Spencer sighed deep in his chest when he realized that the interaction was inevitable. 

So much for a peaceful night. 

You had been so much of a nag lately. The way you had been acting, he would even border on calling it bitchy. 

When he wanted you there for meaningless sex to get his mind off things or even if he just wanted to cuddle, when he needed you to hold him - you always wanted to talk. You were constantly on him, asking him what was wrong, and how you could help. You wouldn’t just shut up and leave well enough alone; no matter how many times he told you to lay off and insisted that he was fine. (He knew that it was a lie, but he didn’t force you to talk about your problems. He wished you could see that he just wanted to be left alone. That he could get through this on his own.) 

The last time he had seen you, he had torn out of your apartment at the speed of sound when he had taken off his sweater in anticipation of some hopefully mind numbing orgasms - and instead, you had asked about the marks on his arm. 

And he had been dreading seeing you again ever since. 

“Hey.” He called back dully, slinking in the door and closing it behind him. 

He tossed his keys onto a nearby table - one that was already messy with books and newspapers. He took off his messenger bag and tossed it down carelessly too, still not turning to look at you as he peeled off his outer jacket. He left a sweater on underneath to keep his arms covered; he didn’t need any more questioning from you right now. 

“I made you dinner.” You pointed out, your voice tentatively hopeful. “It’s that cheese tortellini that you said you liked. And I stopped by that little shop downtown and got some of those chocolate cupcakes.” 

When Spencer finally turned around, you were holding a bright pink box with the lid open, displaying two very plump, beautifully decorated chocolate cupcakes - a small, tired smile on your lips while you waited for him to say something about the kindness of the gesture. 

A fresh wave of nausea rolled over him at the sight and all he felt was annoyance. 

(What made things worse was that you had clearly taken the time to dress up. You were wearing one of your nicer dresses, a matching cardigan thrown over your shoulders. A light, but well done dusting of makeup across your beautiful features. If Spencer wasn’t mistaken, he could hear the clack of heels beyond the counter where he couldn’t see your lower half. You looked gorgeous, and it made him feel all the more like garbage where he stood.) 

“You didn’t have to.” He huffed out, still trying to be civil, even though all he wanted at the moment was to be left alone in his own home, rather than having you there, bothering him. 

“It’s okay, I wanted to.” You giggled, closing the box and setting it aside. “You’re absolutely worth it.” 

That was it. That was the comment that truly cut through him. 

Because he wasn’t worth it - he was a scumbag. He was a piece of trash who pitied a man who had killed seven people, and he should have died in that shitty little shack in the cemetery instead of standing here with you while you took the time to buy him cupcakes and make him dinner. He shouldn’t get to be spoiled by you after everything he had done. 

Every ounce of that anger that he was feeling toward himself boiled over like a terrible overcooked pot and came spitting out like hot oil, ready to burn you. 

“Can you just shut up?” He snapped. “I didn’t ask you to do any of this.” 

He felt regret churn in his stomach when your face curled with hurt, and he was surprised when you didn’t immediately leave. 

“It’s okay.” You said quietly. 

The fact that you rolled over so easily, so apologetic - that annoyed him more. 

He watched on with shock as you reached a hand toward your purse, which was sequestered off on one edge of the counter - a space you had clearly cleaned off before you had started cooking. 

(Spencer could only imagine how much you looked down upon him, considering him a lazy pig with how messy and generally unhygienic his apartment was because - even though he hated it - he couldn’t bring himself to clean with his generally mental disarray as of late.) 

You put a hand into the open zipper of your bag and soon came out with something you easily knew was there, didn’t even have to dig around for, and Spencer watched on curiously as your hand came back with a thick fistful of colorful pamphlets. 

“I also got these for you.” You said, extending the arm out to him. 

He had a terrible knot in his gut. 

He stepped forward on shaking legs and when he grabbed them from you - surely enough, it was exactly what he had feared. 

Spencer’s eyes grew tense with anger as he scanned over it all. 

A bunch of crap about sober living with generic stock images of people smiling - well paid models who had never known a single day of pain in their stupid, well groomed lives. People who could never even imagine what Spencer had been through. 

“We can talk about it when you’re ready.” You told him, anxiety keeping your breath tight in your chest as you spoke. “I know it’s hard, so-” 

What the hell did you know? 

“God, you are so fucking full of it!” Spencer shouted, tossing down the pamphlets, causing them to scatter across the counter in a mess, his sudden spike in volume making you flinch. 

As though you had been slapped, it took you a moment to recover from the pure shock of his words before you could actually speak any kind of reply. 

“What?” You gaped at him. “Spencer, what the hell do you mean? I’m trying to help-” 

“‘Oh, I know it’s hard.’” He repeated your words in a mocking voice. “Please, what the hell do you know?” 

That caused a dangerous shift in you, turning the understanding and pity inside of you toward fed-up anger. 

“I don’t know anything because you won’t tell me!” You shouted back. “You won’t even tell me what the hell is wrong! It’s like you don’t even fucking trust me!” 

Unconsciously, this is exactly what Spencer had wanted. He had wanted a fight - claws, noise. He needed to be punished. He couldn’t stand you sitting around, acting so damn calm, being so sweet to him when he was so awful. 

“Why should I tell you?” Spencer argued, grasping blindly at nothing, yelling just to make noise. “It’s none of your goddamn business!” 

“Why wouldn’t this be any of my business?” You gasped. “Spencer, we’ve been together for - what? Almost three years now?” 

It had been two years, eleven months, and three days since your first date. It had been two years, eleven months, and fifteen days since he had first spoken to you. It had been three years and four days since he had first laid eyes on you - thinking that you were the most beautiful woman on earth, thinking that he would never, ever work up the courage to speak to you. Thinking that there was no chance on earth that you would ever actually be his. 

And now, he was about to ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

All good things must come to an end, right? 

“I care about you.” You said, your voice cracking around the words - the ghost of tears beginning to form in your throat, like dark clouds forming in the sky before a storm. “That makes it my business.” 

Spencer huffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” 

“It’s not just ‘whatever’, Spencer!” You screamed, your frustration flaring up once again. 

He didn’t speak, he just kept on glaring at you. This pissed you off more - finally gave you the balls to say it. 

“You’re on drugs!” You finally found the courage to speak it aloud. There was a tense stare down as you waited for him to deny the accusation. When he didn’t, a sharp spear pierced your chest, and the first tears fell. “You’re hurting yourself. This is a big deal, baby. You need help.” 

Looking back on it now - it had been four years, nine months, and eight days since the last time you had called him ‘baby’. He should have seen it then, but this was the beginning of the end. 

He should have latched onto it as a safety line and pulled himself ashore. He should have accepted the help that you were so graciously offering him. 

But instead, at the time - it only stung him more. It only showed him a display of the sweetness that he didn’t think he deserved. It only caused him to turn on his defenses more. 

Like a poisonous plant evolving his instincts in the worst way - it made him fight back harder. 

“Don’t tell me what I fucking need!” Spencer cried out, every inch of his voice utterly insulted. “So what if I’m on drugs? You’re not a fucking peach yourself!” He let out a bitter, airy chuckle with these words, and instantly your face shifted. 

A very large part of you knew that he was resorting to personal attacks because he was desperately trying to shift the attention away from himself - away from talking about his own problems. But with the shock and hurt pulsing through your system, you couldn’t truly focus on the logic of it all. 

“What?” You gaped. “Spencer, what are you talking about?” 

“You - you act so goddamn perfect all the time, but-” 

He stuttered, hesitating for a fraction of a moment, watching the hurt and confusion tangle over your beautiful features - he could have blamed it on the drugs in his system or the fact that the trauma had been so recent and he technically had not ‘recovered’ from it. But he made the final move, then, hurling a harpoon into your relationship, making a giant wound that couldn’t be recovered from. 

“But you’re a pathetic, shallow little girl with abandonment issues because your father left you before you hit puberty-” He said, breaking you down in that intense, psychological, profiler way. “You seek validation from me, the man you’re having sex with, in the most utterly Freudian way, and when you don’t receive that validation, you starve yourself in the name of vanity, seeking satisfaction and control that you’ll never truly obtain because you’re a narcissistic control freak!” 

He managed to hit every point perfectly; he had used his skills to look into your soul, hand-picking every single thing that would have hurt you most. Given, he also had information that you had told him during late-night conversations where the two of you had bonded. You had told him about your shitty father and the eating disorder that you struggled with on and off since childhood (and still occasionally struggled with since you had met him). He had told you about his mother and his own shitty father - but it was never something that you would have used against him. 

You knew that it was meant to hurt you - to distract you. You knew that he was lashing out in order to put a wall between himself and you. But you couldn’t help the giant lump that rose up in your throat, the flood of tears that poured freely down your face. 

Hearing those words right from his mouth was one of your worst nightmares come to life - as though one of your safest, softest places to land was now a bed of thorns. 

Spencer’s gut twisted when he saw you crying, but like a man possessed, he couldn’t stop himself. 

“Did you honestly think that being with me was going to fix you?” He let out a dark chuckle, sounding well and truly like a super villain, punching right through your heart. “Maybe, you should spend less time focusing on me and my supposed problems,” He griped, sarcasm tight on his lips. “And spend a bit more time fixing yourself.” 

You sucked in a chest rattling breath, and began gathering your purse, leaving the pamphlets on the counter as you moved to grab your coat off the hook. 

You would forever regret turning back for one last word, your throat quaking hard and struggling to even get the words out. 

“And how would you recommend that I do that?” You asked, entirely bitter. 

“Well, for starters, you could use a few less cupcakes in your life.” He replied, snarky, demanding. 

He was angry about the cupcakes because they represented everything good about you - your generosity, your kindness, your propensity to view the small things in life as a representation of life being good as a whole. 

It came off sounding like a jab at your weight, degrading your perfect body - especially after he had called you narcissistic for having an eating disorder. 

A sharp jolt went through his chest when the words fully penetrated his own ears - when he truly heard how terrible it was. 

Especially when he saw the look of horror that struck your gorgeous, tear-soaked features. 

“Y/N-” He said your name so softly, and an apology begging to be chased from his lungs. 

But you wouldn’t let him. 

“We’re done here.” You declared, a dark finality in your voice as you turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind you. 

At the time, Spencer simply thought you meant - done with the conversation. He didn’t know that you had already decided that your words were declaring - done with the relationship. At the time, you were well and truly done with Spencer Reid. 

He ached to chase after you, to scream apologies down the hall, no matter who would hear him - but his feet only carried him as far as the door before he collapsed against it, pressing his forehead hard into the wood while his soul clawed at the inside of his chest, aching to get to you, mourning that he had hurt you so badly. 

Spencer left the food to go stale, turning off all the lights in the apartment. Then he took a strong hit, and cried himself to sleep. 

He woke up the next morning stewing in regret. He called you, and of course, you didn’t answer. He sat on the edge of his bed, thinking. He wondered if he should go to your favorite coffee shop, get your favorite breakfast and go to your place to force his way in so that he could talk things over with you. He wondered if he should agree to go to one of the sober treatment programs that you had picked out just to please you. 

While he was considering all of this, his phone rang, and he rushed to pick it up, thinking that maybe it was you. It was JJ, alerting him to a case. He gathered his things and left for work, letting you fall into the back of his mind, thinking that he would be able to pick up the pieces and apologize when he got back. 

But it had been too late. 

The next time he opened his apartment door, he tripped over the key he had given you. You had slid it under the door in order to return it to him after locking up. 

You had let yourself in to gather your things from Spencer’s place, and to leave a very large box of his things that had been left at your place in the middle of his kitchen counter. Beside that box was an envelope with his name on it. A six page handwritten letter from you, explaining all of your reasoning for not wanting to speak to him in person, wishing him well in getting sober, telling him not to make any efforts to contact you again because he had hurt you so badly and you simply needed to heal - and declaring the end of the relationship finite and official. 

(Your pregnancy, of course, was mentioned nowhere among those six pages.) 

Several weeks later, Spencer would receive a similar letter from Gideon when he left the BAU without telling anyone. 

When he read your letter, Spencer sobbed so loudly that his throat hurt. 

And after reading it several more times, letting it truly hit him - he flushed the last of the stash he had down the toilet. A few weeks later, after he had worked up the courage, he went to your apartment. After a while of him knocking on the door and calling your name, begging for you to come out and see him, one of your neighbors came out. They yelled at him to shut up, and informed him that you had moved. 

That was the first day Spencer went to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. 

…

It had all happened so fast. 

You found out you were pregnant, and you knew that the end of your lease was coming up. It had been a time you were hoping to move in with Spencer, but with that hope blown to shreds, you needed a fresh start. 

Your mom knew someone selling for cheap because it was in a newly developing area, and most of the other houses around it weren’t finished yet. She thought it wouldn’t appeal to you because it was in a different state, but - you found yourself calling the real estate agent and packing up your boxes that week. 

You figured that because you had done so well growing up without a father, your kid didn’t need one either. You didn’t want Spencer to cause more trouble being in his life and being unstable than not being there at all. 

So you fled. It seemed like the wisest decision at the time. 

…

Spencer had been so stupid. 

Not only had he hurt you badly - but you had wanted him to get sober out of love. You had been so patient with him, so soft, so loving. You weren’t talking about his addiction because you wanted to pick apart his flaws. You hadn’t gone to his apartment that night because you wanted to hurl around accusations. You hadn’t wanted to be invasive; you hadn’t thought that he was a genuinely horrible, broken person and you simply wanted him to admit that. 

You saw that he was hurting and you had wanted to help him heal. 

At the time, you had nothing but love for him - and you had even loved those broken parts of him. He hadn’t been prepared to accept that love. He had made a terrible mistake. And there was only one thing he could do now. 

Spencer shocked you when he moved from leaning on the kitchen counter and got down on his knees in front of you. Your jaw slacked in shock and you stared down at him as he clasped his hands together as though praying, staring up at you with his wide, wet eyes. 

“I am so sorry.” He said, his voice quaking around the words. “I know that I could never apologize enough for what happened - I was horrible to you back then. You definitely didn’t hallucinate that.” 

“Well… it wasn’t all you, right? I mean, you weren’t really yourself then.” You sniffled, clearly making an implication toward the fact that he had been taking drugs. 

All this time, you had put a lot of emotional stake in that. When you looked back on your memories with Spencer, you hoped that drugs was solely the reason he had turned into a different person - a kind of person who would make such harsh personal attacks toward you. 

It made a lot of sense as to why he was so sweet, so normal, so personable, so good with Sebatian, so himself now. He must be sober. 

“That’s no excuse.” He told you. “I need to take full responsibility for my behavior. I treated you with the type of cruelty that no person should ever have to experience, let alone a partner.” 

“Spencer, get up, please.” You reached over and grabbed the fabric at the shoulder of his shirt, and he let you haul him to his feet. 

It felt all too natural to stay close to you. 

As you leaned up against the counter beside the sink, your hands drifted to his waist and pulled him to you. And his hands lingered behind you on the counter, bracketing you in. His face hovered close to yours - this was the closest he had come to kissing you all day. His eyes lingered on your lips. 

But he knew that the two of you were too close now - too close to the truth. 

He had to let you speak instead. He couldn’t risk ruining things again. 

“I accept your apology.” You told him quietly. 

It was something you had been waiting years to hear him say. This moment - this whole day - it was like something out of your distant fantasies. You didn’t think that you would ever get to see this version of Spencer again. And now, you weren’t entirely sure what to do with him. You still felt too cautious. 

“I really want to work on things.” It was the truth, and you knew that you had to speak it out loud. “I really want you to be a part of Sebastian’s life.” 

I really want to work on things. 

It was the tiniest scrap of hope, but it was all he needed to pursue things. 

“Are you and I gonna work on things?” Spencer asked, barely above a whisper, reaching a hand up to oh-so-gently brush his fingers across the side of your face. “Is there a future for us?” 

He closed his eyes and tentatively pressed his forehead into yours while you tightly gripped onto the fabric of his shirt. His soul was clawing at his chest once again, feeling all too much like the night you had left him in the apartment all alone. 

But this time, he wasn’t prepared to let you go. 

“Can you answer something honestly?” You whispered. 

“Anything.” Spencer replied. 

“Have you…?” You breathed out, unsure how to phrase the question. “When was the last time… are you clean? Like - are you sober?” 

You were almost certainly sure that he was. He was acting so different, so much more like the version of Spencer that you had fallen in love with. But you couldn’t have someone who was actively on drugs parenting your son. And you had to hope that his prolonged trip to the bathroom earlier wasn’t for that reason. 

“One thousand, seven hundred, and two days.” Spencer replied. “That’s how long I’ve been sober.” 

That was a very long time. You let out a breath of relief, and Spencer felt it puff out against his chin. To clarify, he then said: 

“It’s about - four years, eight months, and two days.” He added on. 

“So… a little after the time I ended things.” You concluded. 

You felt a pang of guilt flow through you. At the time, you knew that breaking up with him was a risk. It was a painful event, and he could have turned to drugs even more for comfort. You had taken away his support system, something that could have helped him in getting sober. But he was spiraling, and you couldn’t stay there and let him take you down too. 

When you found out about the pregnancy, you realized that a large part of how quick you were to act and how rash you were was likely due to the pregnancy hormones. But you weren’t going to rush back and apologize to Spencer because you didn’t want an addict helping to raise your child. You didn’t think that he would simply quit cold turkey because he found out about the baby - not from the way you had seen him. 

But apparently - 

“The break-up… the way things ended, it was a huge catalyst in helping me get sober.” Spencer told you. “And I’m thankful for that.” 

That part surprised you. 

At the time, you know you could have severely relapsed in your eating disorder. 

The only reason you didn’t was because you found out that you were pregnant. Knowing that you had another human life to support, that your body wasn’t just your own - it pushed you to eat healthy, and allowed you the mental room to eat ‘treats’ when you wanted to. Nobody cares if a pregnant woman gets fatter, and that did make you feel safe, in a sense. 

You knew that you didn’t want to date after Sebastian was born - you were focusing so much on him that you didn’t have too much room to be self conscious of your Mommy body. You exercised by lifting Sebastian and carrying him around. Later, you got plenty of exercise chasing him around when he could walk. You didn’t think too much about your diet, because you mostly just ate what he did, and made sure that he was eating healthy. 

In a lot of ways, he saved you. Becoming a mother was the best thing that could have happened - for your mind, body, and soul. 

“What I was doing… it was not the kind of coping mechanism I should have used.” Spencer spoke up again, distracting you from your own thoughts. “But knowing that I hurt you like that - knowing that I lost the best thing in my life… it made me realize that I was turning into someone I didn’t want to be. I was turning into this utterly horrible person, and I needed to change.” 

“Spencer-” You choked out. 

Hearing him describe himself as an ‘utterly horrible person’ did hurt. 

“It’s okay.” He said softly. 

“Can - can I ask what happened?” You whispered. “What made you turn to-? I mean… you left and then when you came back… you were so different.” 

He knew what you were talking about. 

He wasn’t even sure how he could put it into words for you. 

A man in Georgia who had taken on the personality of his father in order to survive. Seven murders in the name of religion. A case that was supposed to be straightforward - a time where Spencer had nearly met God himself. 

He had refused to tell you back then because he didn’t want to be seen as weak. He didn’t want to taint you with the details. He wanted to be comforted and coddled by you without you knowing why he needed that comfort. 

After a moment of Spencer not speaking - standing there with distant horror in his eyes as it all replayed in his mind, you spoke again. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.” You said, reaching up and gently petting a hand down his arm. “You’ve done a lot of healing since then, and I know it’s in your past now.” 

“Tobias Hankel.” He told you, confusing you slightly for a moment before he continued. “He - he was a man who killed seven people. It was a case in Georgia. It was supposed to be standard. We were called in to profile the murders, and actually - he was listed as a witness, and JJ and I went out to interview him. It was a really secluded area. And we got separated.” Spencer took in a breath, and you continued touching his arm, a gentle assurance that you were there, that it was okay. “And… he caught me off guard. He knocked me unconscious.” 

Spencer didn’t feel the need to give you all the dirty details. How he had been shocked by Tobias speaking in the voice of his father, by the appearance of ‘both suspects’ in one body. How he had begged for mercy. 

“And he took me to another location. And when I woke up… I had no clue where I was.” He said, this throat tightening up as the memories came flooding back to him. 

“Oh baby, that must have been so scary.” You said, the word flying from your lips out of instinct as you moved your hand to his chest - instinctively trying to protect his heart with the whole of your palm. 

Hearing it from your lips, so gentle, so soothing - baby. 

Spencer felt like he was at home again. It was the last thing he needed to crack open that door - everything he had been holding back, every raw emotion - it came flooding out. 

He blinked out tears, and you thought that it was terror resurfacing from that day. 

“Hey, shh, it’s okay.” You told him, reaching up to wipe those tears away. “I’m here now.” 

That’s all he had ever wanted. To be here with you. All he had ever needed. 

“Thank you.” He said quietly. 

“You don’t have to thank me.” You replied, your voice gentle. 

“At the time - he drugged me.” Spencer continued the explanation - the one he so dutifully owed you. “That - that’s why.” He stuttered out. “When I came home… I couldn’t stop. It was the only thing numbing the pain. The only thing stopping me from… truly facing it all. From thinking about everything that had happened to me - processing it. I didn’t want to like it, but… it was the only thing that got me through when I was… when I felt like I was so close to death. I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t know how to exist without it at the time.” 

Spencer took in a sharp breath. 

“And when you left, I realized that I needed to stop - I needed to stop the drugs, or I was just gonna lose everything.” 

“You are so strong.” You said, your own voice ripe with tears as you continued to hold Spencer’s face, holding both of his cheeks now, forcing his gaze toward you. Your eyes were burning passionate, every inch of the declaration intense and strong. “Spencer, you got through that and came home. I don’t know if I could have done what you did.” 

“You could have.” He told you, entirely truthful. “You’ve been raising a child by yourself for four years. Never doubt how strong you are.” 

He wanted to deflect - eager to stop talking about himself now. But he was doing it with compliments this time. He knew that he could never make it up to you, but he would never stop with the flattery. He would never stop trying. 

“God, Spencer. I missed you so much.” You said, your throat clenching around the words. Then, before you could stop it:

“You know I never stopped loving you, right?” 

He swore that his heart stopped in that moment. 

“I - I don’t think I could have stopped loving you if I tried.” He replied, his tongue fat and dry in his mouth, having to swallow tightly after he spoke. 

You used your hands on his cheeks to pull him toward you, then, and like the inevitability of the earth rounding the sun as the years passed - Spencer came home to you, sighing into your mouth as he felt your lips in that perfect, beautiful kiss. He finally felt that tightness ease in his chest - maybe it was a feeling he had been waiting to pass for years, his heart locked up and tight with that love for you strangling him from the inside, clawing to get out with you not around for him to truly love you the way he needed to. With his son somewhere out there in the world, waiting to be loved by him. 

Your lips were so smooth and perfect against his - and it wasn’t long before that sweet love turned aching, insistent, and passionate. 

Spencer put his hands on your hips and scooted you back up onto the counter. You let your body naturally shift with the movements, letting yourself slowly fall into the trust of being touched by him again. You let out a moan into his mouth and embraced his tongue past your lips, one of your hands moving to tangle into his now much wilder hair. You loved the feeling of his voice vibrating a moan against you as you gave his roots a gentle tug. 

Heat surged through your body as he stepped between your now wide open knees, pressing himself right up against you where you were sitting on the counter - he needed to get closer. He needed to feel you. His crotch pressed tightly against yours - causing a stirring of heat and wetness in your underwear matching him as he was just beginning to get hard. 

He had missed you so much. And it had been so long for both of you - you had barely looked at other people since the break-up, and having the touch of a lost loving stirred something in your bodies that made you both so hungry. 

Spencer pulled away from your lips and began kissing down your neck, eager to suck and lick and kiss and consume as much of your skin as possible. When he came across the chain of the neck sitting on your skin, he gave it a loving lick and hummed into your skin, and you moaned his name into the air. 

“Spence, oh!” 

And then-

Then there was a crash from somewhere else in the house. The sound of glass breaking. 

You hadn’t set the alarm - because typically that was something you did before going to bed. 

Someone was breaking into the house. 

The killer was coming for you. 

“Spencer!” You said his name with more urgency now as his head whipped up from the crook of your neck, looking around for the danger, not yet moving from between your legs as he assessed the situation. 

There was a crash from your office as something was knocked over. The sound of someone stumbling as they climbed in through the broken window. 

He grabbed one of the nearby kitchen knives from the block, quickly realizing that his gun was his bag by the front door - too far to run for. 

“Go upstairs, get Sebastian, take him in your room and lock the door.” He told you, his voice as authoritative as you had ever heard it. He took his cellphone from his pocket and thrust it into your shaking hand. “Call JJ or any contact in this phone labeled BAU. Call until they pick up and tell them that we need back up here. No matter what happens or what you hear, do not open the door for anybody. Got it?”

...

Keep reading here: Chapter Six - That's What You Get (Finale)

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you