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spencer-reids-adventures · 3 years

Note

“It’s a… relapse.” “You’re using again? Spencer, I’m so-” “No, it’s not dilaudid, it’s…” “What? You can tell me, please.” “S-Selfharm.” “Oh.” “Please don’t be mad.”

“It’s a… relapse.”

“You’re using again? Spencer, I’m so-”

“No, it’s not dilaudid, it’s…”

“What? You can tell me, please.”

“S-Selfharm.”

“Oh.”

“Please don’t be mad.”

"Hey, no, I'm not mad," Ethan says gently. "Not even a little bit."

"Even though you got mad before?"

Ethan sighs. "Spencer, we were, what, seventeen? Forgive me for not being emotionally mature at the time. I've grown since then. Kind of a lot."

"I'm sorry for just-- just calling you out of the blue. I didn't know who else to call, I don't want my team to know, and--"

"Shh, hey. Take a few deep breaths, okay? I'm here for you."

"I miss you," Spencer whispers. "I'm scared I'm turning back into that person."

"What person?"

"The person I used to be. The person I was with you, sometimes. Sad, scared, angry. For so long, the only way I felt like I could handle my feelings was to cut them away. And then I joined the BAU, and I felt like I'd finally found my place, like that was where I belonged. And I was happy and safe and I didn't need that anymore.

"And then I got kidnapped, got addicted to dilaudid, and it felt like an even better way to avoid dealing with emotions. Like I could just make them go away. But then I got clean and I don't want to go through that again, so when I started craving this time I just figured, why not go back to the basics, right? Hurting myself worked for years.

"But now I'm sitting here on the floor of my bathroom and I just-- first it felt better, so much better, but now everything hurts again, and I feel like I've failed, and I'm going to lose everything I've worked so hard for. And I don't want to be fucked-up kid Spencer again, I don't want to be that person ever again, only here I am..." He gulps back a sob.

"Do you feel a little better having said that all out loud?" Ethan asks.

"Uh-huh."

"Good. Now I'm gonna talk to you for a little while, okay?"

"Uh-huh." Spencer sniffles.

"You were never 'fucked-up kid Spencer,'" Ethan tells him. "You were just you, and you were struggling. You were dealing with a ton of things, none of which a kid your age should have been dealing with. Maybe you didn't choose the healthiest way to cope, but that doesn't make you bad. That doesn't define you.

"And getting clean from the dilaudid, that's a huge victory. That's something not a lot of people can do, and you've gotta give yourself credit for that. You realized you were in trouble, and you got yourself out. That's so, so good. And even now, when you wanted to go back, you didn't.

"I know it feels like you're regressing back to your younger self, because that's what you associate with hurting yourself. But, Spencer, you're not. This isn't you, it's just a coping mechanism. Not a great one, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that you are still SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. You love your job. You love your coworkers. You belong at the BAU, and nothing you've done indicates that you're going to lose that. Okay?"

"Okay," Spencer whispers.

"Do you believe me?"

"I have to," Spencer says. "I trust you, I always have. I don't think you would lie about something like this."

"I wouldn't," Ethan promises. "Spencer, are you safe right now?"

"Y-yes."

"Everything... cleaned up and bandaged?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Do me a favor and get ready for bed. Don't hang up the phone, I'll wait. And then let me know when you're in bed, okay?"

A few minutes later Spencer is tucked into bed with the nightlight on and his fuzzy blanket wrapped around him.

"I'm back," he says.

"Good," Ethan replies. "You're doing so good. Do you want to keep talking, or is there something else I can do?"

"Are you home?" Spencer asks. "With your piano?"

"Of course."

"Will you play me to sleep? The way that you used to?"

"Sure thing," Ethan says, smiling. "Hey. Love you."

"Love you, too," Spencer says, yawning. "Thank you for...this."

"Anytime."

Ethan moves to the piano and begins to play Spencer's favorite songs. By the time he's finished, Spencer is asleep.

#cw self harm #cw drug addiction #spencer reid #spencer x ethan #maya writes more than 5 sentences #maya's spencer whump collection #maya's spencer x ethan collection

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kodiakwhiskey · 2 years

Text

Domestic Bliss

Domestic Bliss//////Spencer x Fem!OC

Summary: Spencer figures out that Aria's relationship has turned abusive and starts trying to help her (First person)

Tw: domestic violence,physical abuse, mild description of gore (anything else that can be applied to the show lol)

I see the bruise, I see the truth

I see what he's been doin' to you

Blood on the shoes, what's his excuse?

He say he doin' some new kung fu

You always use his bullshit excuse

But I see what he's been doin' to you

There was no point in trying to hide it anymore. No matter how many different techniques I knew about makeup, this was still there. Raw, fresh, and now very irritated. It was getting harder to hide this and I couldn’t do it anymore. So why can’t I leave? Why am I at my job so early in the morning when I know he’ll lose his shit on me when I get home for not being there. I tried my best, but I settled for a bandage instead. I can just make something up. I’m already accident prone. I start on some paperwork, trying to take my mind off things.

I technically wouldn’t have any issues leaving. Think about it realistically. I literally work in a department to help these kinds of situations. It would be so easy to just tell Hotch or Rossi and go into witness protection. I could stop my checks so he wouldn’t be able to use my card. I wouldn’t have a home… My mother won’t take me back; she loves him more than me.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear Spencer setting a cup of coffee down next to me.

“Hey… Donovan… what happened?” I shook my head at him.

“I burned it with a straightener.” No. You were so close to telling him that bastard put his cigarette out on your face. About how he… No. Not now if Spencer’s here it means everyone else will be.

When everyone got there and Hotch pulled everyone in for briefing I breathed a sigh of relief. It was a case, all the way in Colorado. I sat and listened to anyone, but had nothing to offer, opting to just take notes instead. I called him on the way to the plane, knowing he wouldn’t answer.

“Please leave a message after the tone”

“Hey, Kev. It’s me um. Our case is out of state so I’m going to be gone for a few days. Reception might be spotty but I…” I choked a little. “I will call to check in when I can.” I hung up and turned my phone off as we pulled up to the jet. I felt Spencer’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t dare meet them. I just took my usual seat in the back corner, tucking myself against the window. Even if this was only for a couple days it could really give me the break I need. Maybe that’s what we both need. He’s much nicer after I’ve been gone for a while. It reminds me of the first couple years we were together. Back when he still called me pet names like, sugar or bunny. I shut my eyes, trying to get some rest. Everything would be fine.

Why'd you put up with that shit?

Why'd you go back for that kiss?

Maybe it tastes like him

When you got tears in your lips

Why'd you put up with that shit?

Why don't we pack and leave this?

Why do you smile when he cries?

Why do you cry when he wins?

**********************************************************************

Third pov

Spencer set his things down, in his usual seat next to Aria, and moved to sit with the group at the table.

“So is anyone else going to acknowledge it too?” His voice was quiet and everyone else had solemn expressions on their faces.

“Look… as much as I want to do something, you know as well as I do that getting involved before she’s ready could be even more dangerous.” Rossi’s voice was quiet, anger lacing his words.

“We’re going back to her hometown. Her mother is there, we could-” Derek cut him off.

“Reid. This is a part of keeping her safe. We can’t corner her like that; she'll associate it with whatever he’s doing at home and slip into a trauma response.” Emily stayed silently, Looking over at her, sleeping and tucked away under Spencer’s cardigan.

Hotch had been in the opposite corner, watching the team. “We do have a ‘No Profiling’ rule on each other.” Spencer’s face fell, guilt ridden in his eyes. “But we can bend the rules a little. Her behavior has indicated it’s only getting worse. It’s a matter of time before he snaps and kills her.” Hotch knew the severity of the situation all too well. Derek had seen his sister go through that and now he was seeing another sister hide it.

“It would be best if Garcia approached her about it.” Everyone looked over at Emily, who had been quiet until now. “The two of them are close and she’s the only one out of us who's actually spent time around him.” She was trying to sound rational, but she knew Penelope had a tenderness they didn’t quite understand.

***************************************************************************************

Aria

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, and opened my eyes to see Reid’s dark red cardigan on me, his touch gentle.

“Hey we landed.” He grabs my bag, along with his, and gets off the plane with everyone else.

I got off and slid into the passenger seat of the car Hotch was driving, Spencer climbing into the seat behind him, he had such a cute clueless expression on his face. Poor thing never really liked change.

“Hotch, I need a favor to ask of you.” I kept my voice low, but I knew Spencer and Derek would hear it anyway. Hotch titled his ear towards me, the silent indicator that he was listening. “Since we’ll be in town, I’d like to take a couple hours for some personal business.” He nodded knowingly, like he always does.

Fight for me

We can leave, I'm beggin'

Please, on my, on my knees

Go to Hawaii

Fight for me

Said we can leave, I'm beggin'

Please, on my, on my knees

Hawa-hawaii

“That’s okay. But I want your head in case at all working times.” You nodded, and settled in for the long car ride from the airport to Granby Ranch.

I did attempt to call Kevin when we arrived, but the cell service had always been awful out here.

When we pulled up to the ranch, the first thing I noticed was the sculpture at the entrance had been damaged. We got out of the Jeep and Hotch went directly to talk to the County police. I stepped towards the crime scene, taking a look at everything. Right in the edge of the woods. Man this was getting creepy. A voice behind me registers as Spencer’s but my mind is racing. There was blood everywhere. The trees were lined, reaching as high as 6 feet. I step further, slipping on a pair of gloves before I stop dead in my tracks.

“Hey… Um… did they miss a body in the initial report?” It was like a bad car crash. I couldn’t look away from her mangled body. This was definitely not a wild animal. I doubt any Elk or bear could make a clean cut like that. The world started spinning the longer I stared and just as I was expecting to hit the hard ground I felt something soft and warm.

You got balloons

New flowers too

Last one's dyin' in your bedroom

He's squeezin' you

Blame-blaming you

Mama just usin' her red perfume

“Donovan. Hey, hey you have to wake up.” Spencer's voice is warm above me, nurturing almost. It doesn’t take long for my ears to ring and for my hearing to drop.

When I’m fully conscious, there’s a bright light in my eye. I blink slowly, trying to shield my face.

“Oh Aria, thank god.” Rossi is above me, putting the flashlight away, and I feel a warm hand on my cheek. I tilt my eyes and realize I’m in Spencer’s lap, furiously blushing. “Do you know where you are right now?” Spencer’s voice is soft above me and I wrack my memory. The second I close my eyes I’m looking at that poor woman’s dismembered head again and I stifle a scream. “Hey, hey take it easy. You need to move slowly.” Spencer’s hand on my shoulder is a warm reminder. I’m okay. Rossi and Spencer slowly helped me up. Hotch sent Spencer, Derek, and I to the police station in Frasier, where they had set up shop. With me driving, we pulled up in 15 minutes. Granted, they both were pale, but they weren’t dead.

Eventually we started piecing everything together. It was 8 pm when Kevin called me.

I answered, putting him on speaker so I could continue working. “Hey Kev.”

“Don’t fucking Hey Kev me. Where are you?” I was really glad Derek and Spencer had left the room.

“I called you earlier before we left but it went to voicemail. Did you not get my message?”

“You know what I’m fucking asking you. Don’t be a bitch to me.”

“I’m in Wyoming in the mountains.” Lie. Don’t give yourself away. “Kevin, I have work to do.”

“Fine but don’t expect anything from me when you get back. Lying bitch.” He spit the words at me like venom before the line clicked off. I closed my phone. Whatever God or Gods existed in this universe surely wouldn’t let me stay like this… but it had been 3 years now. I had to do it myself. I couldn’t rely on anyone else.

Domestic bliss

I know how bad you wanted it

Why'd you put up with that shit?

Why'd you go back for that kiss?

Maybe it tastes like him

When you got tears in your lips

Why'd you put up with that shit?

Why don't we pack and leave this?

Why do you smile when he cries?

Why do you cry when he wins?

“Aria?” Spencer’s face had fallen. I didn’t realize I was crying. “Hey… is everything okay?” He slid into the seat next to me, his hand on my knee. I shook my head, and just leaned into him. “I’m here for you. You know that right? You’re not alone.” I didn’t say anything, just letting myself sink further.

“I don’t think you’re much help like this Donovan.” Derek put his hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t you and Reid go get checked in. I’m sure everyone will follow shortly.” I nodded, walking out of the station with Spencer, and climbing into the passenger seat of the SUV, letting him take the helm. I closed my eyes and rested against the window of the door.

I think I vaguely remember him getting a bag of food on the way, but I couldn’t pay attention. There was too much going on. Spencer woke me up gently, letting me get my bearings before heading inside.

“Here’s your room keys. You’ll both be in 117.” My jaw almost fell to the floor. Crap there was no way this would end out okay. He’s gonna find out and he’ll get hurt trying to help me.

Spencer thanked her, and we went to our room, The door clicking softly behind us.

“Aria… I need to talk to you.” I sat on one of the beds, staking my claim, taking my shoes off. “I know Kevin is abusing you.” I stared at him for a minute, unblinking. His voice was soft, and he knelt in front of me, wiping away the tears that came. “I need to know how to help you. Please. I can’t see you like this anymore.” The floodgates opened and I threw myself around him, his hands lacing into my hair.

“Please… Don’t make me go back. I can’t do it anymore.” I feel his hand push down my sweater, the various bruises and scabs littered my collarbone and his face fell.

Fight for me

We can leave, I'm beggin'

Please, on my, on my knees

Go to Hawaii

Fight for me

Said we can leave, I'm beggin'

Please, on my, on my knees

Hawa-hawaii

“Aria… I’m going to kill him.” I’ve never seen him this upset. “He won’t get away with hurting the person I love like this.” He met my eyes realizing he said that out loud.

“Spencer…” He pulled me into him for a kiss, sweet and tender just like him. “I love you too…”

Spencer’s hands never left me, pulling me into bed with him, pulling me close. He littered my back and shoulder with kisses, being extra careful around my bruises.

The next morning we wrapped up the profile, my phone staying off. Spencer never left my side.

It took another day or two to catch the guy. He’d been dating all the victims and playing them off of each other. I hated that I drew the comparisons to Kevin, and now that the case was over, I had to face him again…

Spencer and I packed our hotel room, and he agreed to come with me to see my mom

I knocked on the door, and he squeezed my hand quickly, letting go as the door opened.

“Hi mom.”

“Oh baby hi. What are you doing here? Where’s that sweet Kevin.”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. Can I come inside?” She stepped aside to let us through, pulling out the coffee mugs and pouring us both a cup from the freshly made pot.

“What’s going on honeybee?” She leaned back in her chair, sipping her coffee.

“I don’t know how to tell you this so I figured I’d just show you.” I shrugged my jacket off for the first time in days around someone, the bruises covering almost every surface of my arms and shoulders, various scabbing in areas.

“Oh honey. I told you you need to quit this job. You’re hurting yourself.” I tried not to sound too annoyed.

“No ma. It’s Kevin… He’s been abusing me for 3 years now.” Her eyes widened.

“Aria you will not lie in this house.”

“Ma’am it’s not a lie.” Spencer spoke to her, not even introducing himself. “If you heard the things he says to her over the phone, you would know she isn’t lying.”

“You both need to leave.” Mom stood up and snatched the mugs away retreating to the kitchen. “You’re a disgrace.” I sighed, and grabbed Spencer’s hand, walking to the door.

“I guess that makes two of us. Have a good life mom. I hope you’re not so lonely with Kevin in it.” I closed the door without another word, basically running with Spencer to the SUV.

My God, I'll be right in

A trickle of lighting

I knew before I heard

I felt in my skin

My God, I'll be right in

A trickle of lighting

I knew before I heard

I felt in my skin

The phone call with Penelope was rough. She was crying more than I was, but within minutes she confirmed there was now a protection order in place, and that the police were detaining him for the night so I could gather my things.

“You can stay with me.” Spencer’s hand was soft on mine, and I nodded, falling asleep on his shoulder on the jet ride home. All of the guys insisted on coming with me to my old apartment, on the off chance he was still there, so as soon as we finished the last bit of paperwork, Rossi, Hotch, and Derek all followed me over. It was quiet when we entered, my cat trotting over, meowing at me.

“Looks like he trashed the place before they took him.” Derek flipped over a cracked photo frame, and Spencer picked up the black fluffy void, her purring as loud as a lawn mower. Rossi helped me pack my clothes in a bag, and Hotch grabbed various things of mine from the shelf for a box, everything he deemed important, while Derek stole all the batteries out of the electronics, and took all the food and alcohol out of the cabinets, leaving behind only sugar, flour, and ketchup.

Spencer helped me gather the cat’s things and helped me take them to the car. When we got back up I heard Kevin shouting. Spencer pushed me behind him walking into the living room.

“You have no right to be packing her things. She can’t leave me, I'm the only one she has left.”

“Obviously that’s a lie.” Spencer’s comment made everyone stop and stare at him. “She has 4 people who are here to clearly collect her things and protect her from you. Where is your support Kev?” I never heard him speak like that, my hands were gripping his cardigan so tightly my knuckles were white. Rossi and Hotch pushed past him with the last of my boxes, Rossi taking me by the hand and leading me out.

Spencer turned and Derek put the final nail in the coffin, knocking a photo off the wall, while making eye contact with him.

He didn’t try to come after me. He didn’t acknowledge my existence, and he let me leave.

The guys dropped everything off at Spencer’s with me, Birdie immediately making herself at home on his sofa, her face buried in her long black fur.

Fight for me

We can leave, I'm beggin'

Please, on my, on my knees

Go to Hawaii

Fight for me

Said we can leave, I'm beggin'

Please, on my, on my knees

Hawa-hawaii

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid fic #glass animals #songifc #domestic bliss #dreamland

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toomanyfandoms02 · 4 years

Text

Claustrophobia // Spencer Reid x Reader

Back to blurbs!!! This one was for @andiebeaword

Summary - Reader has claustrophobia and Spencer wants to help her get over it.

Word Count - 1.2k

Idk if I need a Trigger Warning for this but, theres like one mention of anxiety and obvious mentions of claustrophobia.

Prompts - "Close the door" -- "Excuse me. Excuse me! Yes you, you're sitting in my seat."

Don't get me wrong, I loved my job. But it was completely and undeniably exhausting. Hence why my suitcase was so lazily dragging behind me as I slugged towards the jet.

"Someone looks enthused." Spencer chimed from beside me, nudging me lightly with his elbow. I gave him a glare and continued my trek to the aircraft. He jogged in front of me, hurrying up the metal steps. How can he have so much energy?

*Must be the copious amounts of coffee he consumes daily.*

I reminded myself, remembering that I counted him drinking at least 5 cups today.

Soon I was trudging up the stairs, rubbing my head from the headache I could feel coming on. I could just sleep it off. But the universe must have had other plans for me as I looked over at the couch to see Spencer sitting there, on his laptop.

"Excuse me." I took a few steps toward him. "Excuse me!" His head shot up from the screen, pointing to himself and looking around. The rest of the team held wide eyes. "Yes you, you're sitting in my seat." My arms were crossed over my chest in frustration at this point.

"I don't see your name on it." He teased, looking under the leather seat. Even standing slightly to look around. But I was *not* in the mood.

I was sleepy.

I sighed a little, softening my stance somewhat.

"Look Reid, I need a nap, unlike you who drinks mounds of caffeine and won't need sleep until you get home. I could feel my eyes drooping. He patted the seat next to him, pulling his computer farther up his lap.

"Come nap next to me." JJ nudged me forward from her seat, I turned to her with a death glare. She responded with a look as to say:

*Do not pass up this chance you dumb bitch.*

I loved and hated her for that. I let out a loud sigh, setting my rolling case next to the couch and sitting next to him.

His hand came to his shoulder, patting there now. I raised my eyebrow in question.

"You wanted to sleep right? Sleep." His head tilted to his shoulder. I was tired... So I set my head down.

The coat he was wearing was comfy against my cheek. Just before I closed my eyes I could see the small smile adorning his face.

"Before you fall asleep, can I ask why you never sit in the regular seats?" The question was honestly kind of uncomfortable for me, but I wasn't going to tell him *that*.

"I, I have severe claustrophobia. Even if I'm just sitting in a seat and someone in next to me, I feel boxed in. The only reason I'm not feeling it right now is because there isnt a wall next to me." He peered down at me while I confessed.

"Would you ever want to get over that fear?" I didn't know where this was going, but I'm sure I wasn't going to like it.

"Well yeah, everyone wants to get over fears." He lifted my head from his shoulder.

"Do you trust me?" I nodded with a grimace. He started pulling me up and to the back of the plane. He then backed into the bathroom. I tugged back on his hand.

"The team is definitely going to think we are doing *something* in here Spencer." I snapped at him.

"Hotch already suspects that we are dating." He smirked.

"Oh yes! Let's prove him right!" I waved my arms, my left one still attached to his.

"Would that be so bad?" There was only a momentary pause before he tugged hard on my arm, pulling me fully into the bathroom. "Close the door." He insisted. I shook my head defiently. He swiftly grabbed my shoulders, switching our places so he was near the door. He shut it softly and locked it.

"Now they are really gonna think we are doing it." I chuckled nervously, holding my arms as if I was cold. But really I was realizing just how *small* this room was, especially with 2 people in it. I could feel my breath picking up a bit. "Are you trying to prove some point to yourself." I snapped again, getting defensive.

"No, Claustrophobia, like most phobias, responds fairly well to treatment. Cognitive behavioral therapy and desensitization can be especially helpful. In this case we are doing physical treatment." He shrugged. My chin was hitting my chest from how far down my head was looking, my eyes squeezed shut.

"Wow, I'm sure its gonna work so well in a *jet bathroom*." My head was spinning, but I kept my eyes closed. I was sure if I opened them it would be worse.

"You know, I knew you were claustrophobic, I've wanted to help for a while." I could hear him lean against the bathroom door, it creaked. I risked opening my eyes to see him standing nonchalantly.

"How the *hell* is this suppose to help me Reid?" I could feel tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I had so much anxiety in here. I'm sure he could see the glassy look in my eyes because he grabbed my arms, pulling me into a hug.

"Oh please don't cry, I didn't mean to upset you." I could hear the fear and guilt in his voice.

"In gonna be honest, it's not you, this room is really small." I could feel myself shaking, surely a panic attack was on it's way. He held me tighter. I pulled my arms from between us and hugged him back.

"You know, Physical touch is known to improve the function of your immune system as well as reduce diseases such as those associated with the heart and blood. One study on women found that receiving more hugs from their partners led to lower heart rates and blood pressure." He rambled, setting his chin on my head.

"What kind of partners?" I giggled, calming moderately. My voice was muffled by his shirt. "Like partners in crime?"

"I-I guess that's what we would be, right?" I pulled from the hug.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Do you feel a little better about it?" His face was unsure as he asked.

"A bit yeah. Can we please get out if here though? It's kind of hot." I fanned myself. He nodded and opened the door. Just as we were coming out of the door the whole team was staring at us. I could feel all the blood rushing to my cheeks. I looked up at Spencer to see he was in the same position.

"What were you guys doing in there?" JJ teased with a huge grin.

"Will you guys *all* get your heads out of the gutter. He was trying to get me to get over my claustrophobia." I whined, wanting to immediately be off of the subject.

"Sure, I bet he definitely *helped*." Enily commented, poking my side as I walked by. I glared at the team, sitting next to Spencer again, leaning on his shoulder.

"Shut up, assholes." I smiled.

#mgg #criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #matthewgraygubler #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid one shot

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purediamond101 · 4 years

Text

High Spirits (Spencer Reid)

MASTERLIST

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Parings: Spencer Reid x Female! Reader

Summary: You and Spencer have been dating for three months and couldn’t be happier. After waking up and talking statistics, you both confessed your love for each other. Now the others are confused as to what has given Spender such high spirits.

It was early in the morning when Spencer woke up. Smiling, he looks over to see you sleeping peacefully beside him. Or so he thought.

"You know it's rude to stare," You tease, your eyes still closed, but you sensed him staring.

"Well, looking into one another's eyes can increase hormones associated with social bonding. One of those hormones is oxytocin, commonly referred to as-" Spencer Rambles before you speak up, opening your eyes. "The love hormone." You both say at the same time.

"Yeah," Spencer smiles.

And at this moment that’s when Spencer knew. He loves you and honestly, he's known for a while. He loved everything about you, from your intelligence and kind heart to the way you listen to his rambles and could keep up with him and his statistics.

"What?" You ask softly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I love you," Spencer blurts out, shocking you. Instead of replying, you lean in, giving him a short but loving kiss.

"I love you too," You breathe out once pulling away, both of you breaking out into a grin.

___

Spencer went to work that morning with his spirits flying so high it felt like his feet weren’t even on the ground. The others were curious seeing him walking to his desk with a happy daze on his face.

“What’s got you all happy?” Emily raises a brow, seeing Spencer walk up to his desk along with Morgan.

"Nothing," Spencer shrugged, a small smile on his face.

“You got laid, didn’t you,” Morgan smirks.

“You're not going to give up on this, aren't you?" Spencer sighs ignoring his question.

“No I will not,” Morgan shakes his head.

“Come on, I think it’s safe to say we all noticed how happy you’ve been these past few weeks,” Emily concludes.

“Okay fine,” Spencer gives in as Emily and Morgan cheer in victory.

“You know researchers found that couples who are in love and bond in a romantic relationship synchronize their heart rates after gazing into each others’ eyes for three minutes.” Spencer starts, confusing the pair.

“Okay...” Emily trails off, confused as to what Spencer is implying.

“She told me she loved me today,” Spencer speaks up, fondly remembering the moment. “After we woke up and were talking I told her I loved her for the first time, and she said it back.”

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend!” Penelope exclaims, gaining the trio’s attention.

“When did you-” Emily starts before Penelope cut her off. “just in time to hear Spencer has a girlfriend!”

“How long have you been together?” Morgan asks, smiling at Penelope’s antics.

“3 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days,” Spencer answers honestly.

"Why didn't you tell us?” Penelope puzzled, still shocked she didn't know.

"Well, I wanted to make sure it was serious before I introduced you guys," Spencer shrugged.

"So, now that it is, does it mean we get to meet her?" Emily inquired.

"Yeah," Spencer sighs. "I was going to wait to introduce her, but you guys seem pretty adamant about meeting her. I'll ask her later if she wants to go to dinner with you guys."

"Great, we can do it at my place," Rossi says from behind them. They turn to see Rossi, Hotch, and JJ standing there with a smile on their faces. Even Hotch.

"I don't understand how you guys keep popping up," Spencer shakes his head as the others laugh.

"Well, as much as I hate to ruin this moment..." JJ starts as the others groan, already knowing where this was going. "we've got a case."

And just like that, the group headed into the conference room ready to discuss the next case. Although each of them eager to meet the woman who managed to brighten Spencer’s life in just a matter of seconds.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #Fluffy Imagine #fluff #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #imagines

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xtruss · 3 years

Text

A Muslim Writer on Finding Her Voice in Post-9/11, Post-Trump America

— By Aisha Sultan | 09/01/21 | Newsweek.

A new generation of Muslim Americans is making its mark. Spencer Platt/Getty

Like most Americans old enough to remember, I know exactly where I was and what I was doing on September 11, 2001 when the first hijacked plane hit the World Trade Center in New York City. I was showering when I heard my husband yelling for me. Dripping wet and wrapped in a towel, I watched in shock, along with tens of millions of others, as the Twin Towers fell, killing thousands of people inside.

Emotions from that day feel so much closer than two decades ago.

My stomach turned in revulsion. My body tightened with fear for my relatives who worked there. Dread settled like a heavy rock on my chest. Like other Americans, I wondered, who was attacking us. But as a Muslim, I had other questions too: Did the attackers claim to be Muslims? And, if so, what would happen to the rest of us?

I quickly got dressed and headed to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, where I worked as an education reporter. I talked to stunned school officials and students while still trying to process what was happening.

That evening, I checked in with my family in Texas. My brother, then in middle school, had been in class when his teacher broke the news. He became nervous and, in the teacher's eyes at least, asked too many questions. "Is this World War III? Did they bomb downtown? Are they going to bomb our town next?" The teacher told him to shut up and leave her classroom, that she couldn't bear to look at his face.

Riz Ahmed attends the "Mogul Mowgli" press conference during the 70th Berlinale International Film Festival Berlin at Grand Hyatt Hotel on February 21, 2020 in Berlin, Germany. Ahmed recently criticized “dehumanizing and demonizing portrayals of Muslims" in films. Andreas Rentz/Getty Images

My mother's co-workers at the department store where she had worked for years suddenly refused to speak to her. Cops escorted my hijab-wearing cousin off her college campus because it was no longer deemed safe for her to be there.

In the immediate aftermath of that day's horror, my grief and anger as an American was so compounded with my fear and anxiety as a Muslim that it compelled me to do something unthinkable for me: I poured my heart out to the readers of the Sunday paper.

Back then, it was unusual for a news reporter to pen a personal response to a national tragedy. This was long before social media made us all performative, confessional animals. I needed my neighbors in the Midwest to know that while Muslim Americans shared their grief and anger, we also feared whether our country would turn on us.

I ended that column with the questions my college-aged sister had asked me: "Will the government come after us like they did with the Japanese? Will other Americans stand up for us?"

I told my readers the same thing I told her: I don't know.

I wasn't sure what to expect but dozens and dozens of readers responded to her question with expressions of support: Yes, we will stand up for you, you and your family are one of us, they said, in one way or another, in message after message. There were just two negative, Islamophobic emails in the bunch.

Such an overwhelmingly positive response seems inconceivable now, given how polarized our discourse is now and how normalized hate speech has become—an irony, when you consider how heightened anti-Muslim sentiment was at the time.

Key moments after 9/11 also feel unimaginable now. Back then, a Republican president, George W. Bush, visited the Islamic Center in Washington D.C. days after the attack to tell the American people that the attacks violated the tenets of Islam—"Islam is peace," he famously said—and to defend Muslims as equal citizens worthy of respect and protection. Our last Republican president, by contrast, touted a "Muslim ban" across the country. Even my state, Missouri, now bright partisan red, was a swing state back in 2001, where Democrats sometimes voted for Republicans and vice versa.

Coming together after tragedy: U.S. Muslims sing "God Bless America" at an interfaith memorial service in Pasadena, California for 9/11 victims two days after the attacks. Lucy Nicholson/AFP/Getty

It was against this backdrop that I felt moved to share my vulnerability with readers who may never have met a Muslim before.

Their responses reassured and comforted me, but the expressions of support didn't always—or even mostly—translate into action on a national scale. Instead, the Muslim community bore the brunt of the fallout of 9/11 for years. The government targeted Muslim communities with surveillance, questioning and confinement. It seemed law enforcement and the media used the label of "terrorism" for heinous crimes only if the perpetrator was Muslim. The number of anti-Muslim hate crime incidents reported to the FBI rose from 28 in 2000 to 481 in 2001— and those are just the official numbers. Countless incidents are never reported to the FBI.

Yet, in those ensuing years, creative work by Muslims also bubbled up in the country. A trio of Muslim comedians—Preacher Moss, Azhar Usman and Azeem Muhammad—launched the "Allah Made Me Funny" comedy tour in 2003. Writer Laila Lalami's debut novel, Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits, was published in 2005. Actor Aasif Mandvi began appearing on The Daily Show in 2006. G.Willow Wilson published her first graphic novel, Cairo, in 2007.

People who had lived as Muslims in America prior to 9/11 became American Muslims, more engaged in its civic, cultural and political institutions. Muslims creatives were reclaiming the narrative and telling our own stories instead of responding to the false dichotomy of victim or villain told about us.

I was among them. Seven years after the attacks, I began lobbying my editors for a features column, a departure from a decade of straight news reporting. I had become a mother with two small children. I was trying to make sense of the confusion and isolation that parenting provokes. My first column in 2008 described a bleak winter day when I was sleep-deprived and frustrated and feeling slightly suffocated by the tight bonds of motherhood.

The author: St. Louis Post-Dispatch syndicated columnist Aisha Sultan. Elizabeth Wisemen

Again, readers in the heartland responded with overwhelming support and commiseration. I wasn't making any overtly political arguments. As readers got to know me, they appreciated the commonalities in our parenting experiences despite our differences. I wasn't trying to be an ambassador or spokeswoman for my faith or an ethnic community. I was sharing my observations and struggles as a suburban, middle class American mom who happened to be Muslim and of Pakistani descent.

An older, childless white man who lives in a conservative exurban county wrote to say I was the only Muslim he knew besides the attackers on 9/11. He said he had changed his perspective on Muslims in America after reading my column for years. We weren't just a faceless enemy to him anymore. He saw me as a person, my humanity very real to him.

We've stayed in touch for more than a decade.

Over time more Americans have become like that reader, increasingly comfortable with the idea and presence of Muslims—as neighbors and even family members. Yet simultaneously, the conservative right turned Islam into an effective political weapon and used it to bludgeon Muslims who have sought greater representation and political power.

These opposing forces once again became evident in the correspondence I got from readers, The tone and tenor changed notably in the summer of 2016 as the political rhetoric of the presidential campaign came to a boiling point. Public writers have always had our share of angry critics. But the criticism I received turned increasingly vitriolic, with a deep undercurrent of anger. People who disagreed with what I'd written weren't merely looking to dissent but to silence me.

Increasingly, pushback was laced with profanity, racial slurs and calls to go back to where I came from. Anonymous writers called me a 'raghead c*nt' and others told me to "get out of America, you towel head bigot b*tch." One reader mailed a handwritten letter after I wrote about talking to my children about the killing of Travyon Martin, the Black teenager fatally shot by a white member of a neighborhood watch patrol in Florida. She said she would make a point of cutting out my column photo from the paper every weekend so she could put it in the toilet and piss on it.

After the 2016 election, the heightened anxiety about personal safety I'd felt right after 9/11 returned, even stronger and lasted for years. It's not hard to understand why. During the period between 2015 and 2016, the number of assaults against Muslims rose significantly, surpassing the aftermath of 9/11, according to a Pew Research Center analysis of hate crimes statistics from the FBI. Over the following years, disinformation and conspiracies began taking hold in America at a level I'd never seen before. White rage was palpable online and eventually, on the streets.

The memories and feelings associated with the events of 9/11 continue to play a role in attitudes toward the American Muslim community in some quarters. Here, the annual 'Tribute in Light' memorial in lower Manhattan near One World Trade Center. Spencer Platt/Getty

And yet during this period, Muslims in America continued to create art and cultural capital at an unprecedented level. Playwright Ayad Akhtar produced his Pultizer-winning play Disgraced. Hasan Minhaj reclaimed the title Patriot Act, launching a show that became a cultural touchpoint for a generation of American Muslims too young to know firsthand how that legislation was wielded against the Muslim community. Ramy Youssef won a Golden Globe, Mahershala Ali won two Oscars and Lena Khan is directing Hollywood films. Models, pundits and Olympic athletes came into the spotlight while wearing a hijab.

At some point, I too decided that whatever the costs of speaking out, far greater was the cost of silence. If someone was going to attack me for speaking out against white supremacists, that was a risk I was willing to take. I couldn't back down from writing about controversial issues that I knew would provoke an angry backlash, even when it felt reader abuse could possibly escalate to violence.

What I've observed and experienced over the past 20 years, as a columnist and as a Muslim, perhaps boils down to this: As the politics of exclusion grow more strident, parts of the culture embrace inclusivity. Each force is a reaction to the other.

Certainly this has happened in my own relationship with readers. Even as the negative emails ramped up in intensity and bile, I still have far more readers who send words of kindness and encouragement than hatred. Many reveal their own secrets and most vulnerable stories.

My goal when I began writing a column was to give a voice to parents struggling to raise kids in this digital, social media saturated age. I hope I've done that but along the way something else important happened: I found my own voice too.

My youngest sister, who was in college when I wrote my first personal story in the aftermath of 9/11, decided to attend law school after she graduated. She eventually ran for state judge in the 113th District in Houston and was elected in 2018 as part of the record-setting number of Muslims who won public office that year.

With the benefit of two decades of hindsight and the insights I've gained from my interaction with readers over the years, I realize I could have given her a better answer when she turned to me as a frightened college student in 2001. I could have reassured her: Yes, there will be other Americans who will stand up for us.

More importantly, we will learn to stand up for ourselves.

— Aisha Sultan is a syndicated columnist based at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.

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sardonicmanic · 4 years

Text

I Tried To Forget

🖤Spencer x Female Reader🖤

~Summary: When you start acting weird during a case in your hometown the team starts to get worried and tries to figure out what’s wrong with you. But you are trying you hardest to forget memories and the pain associated with this town and the things that happened to you in the past, but it won’t be that easy....

~Warnings: ANGST, Mentions of Emotional and Physical Abuse, Violence

~Word Count: 2.2k

~A/n: This story wasn’t requested but I have had this idea for a story for a while so why not write it right?? Bold = Flashback

!!Feel free to leave me suggestions for stories!!

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It was 9:30 in Quantico, Virginia, and the team was just starting to arrive at the BAU, happy they got a couple more hours of sleep before work. Emily and Morgan were chatting about what they did the night before, when they heard two familiar voices coming through the doors of the BAU.

Y/n and Spencer laughed and sipped their coffee as they walked into the bullpen and headed towards their desks. After sitting, they continued their conversation. Y/N listening to Spencer with infatuation and hanging onto his every word as he rambled on about a random book he had read that morning. Derek turned around in his chair and smiled at the two agents, amused at the obvious chemistry the two shared. Deciding he'd mess with them Derek uttered an sardonic, " Well...Good morning, you too", as he leaned back in his chair. Y/n and Spencer stopped their conversation and turned to look at Derek. “You two seem to be having a wonderful morning.", Derek said somewhat sarcastically, smiling at his own comment.

Spencer blushed, as Y/n turned around in her chair smiling, "And... Are you trying to imply something Derek Morgan?", Y/n said folding her arms playfully as she squinted her eyes.

Morgan puts his arms up jokingly and laughs, "Hey. I'm just saying, you two love birds look pretty happy over there together."

Spencer just blushed as he looked down at his feet, desperately wanting a way out of this akward conversation. Emily deciding she would chime in said , "Morgan isn't wrong you know.", before smiling at the agent and now embarrassed doctor.

"Listen here Morgan..." Y/n started, jokingly ready to come back with a sly comment of her own.

However, just as Y/n was about to speak, Rossi walked up the agent’s desks and said, "Hey guys. Roundtable, we have a case". “Thank God", Spencer said as he quickly got up and rushed into the conference room, relieved to escape from the akward conversation. Morgan snickered at the doctor and uttered, "Aw looks like pretty boy can't take the heat.", before he got up from his chair. Emily and Rossi laughed at Derek's comment as they followed the rest of the team to the roundtable.

Before they got there, Y/n caught up to Derek and nudged his arm playfully before whispering, "This isn't over, Morgan.". Making Morgan laugh as he entered the room and sat down at the table with the rest of the team.

When the whole team was at the roundtable, Aaron quickly walked into the room and sat down, "What do we have Garcia?”, he said. Prompting Garcia to quickly get up from her seat and begin to debrief the team, "Alright lovelies, today we have three female victims who have all been stabbed a number of times in the stomach, dumped, and posed in public places all throughout the small town of Grove, Oklahoma.".

As Garcia stated the location of the case, it triggered something in Y/n. Suddenly, she felt her stomach drop as memories of her childhood and hometown rushed back into her mind.

"You are a mistake!" said Y/n’s mother as she pushed her into the cold empty attic. "I knew your father and I should have gotten rid of you!" She said as she grabbed Y/n by her hair and threw her to the hard, frigid floor. "You just wait until your father gets home...he is gonna teach you how to respect the people who gave you life!" Y/n's mother said as she slammed the heavy door to the attic. “And your staying in that attic for a week!” Her mother screamed at the top of her lungs, as Y/n shivered in the corner of the cold attic.

Y/n choked back tears as these horrible memories rushed her through mind. Trying to shake these thoughts and suspicion, Y/n picked up her case file and tried to focus on the task at hand. “Well the way the unsub is posing his victims shows he has remorse or that he somewhat cares for his victims..” , Y/n said trying to take her mind elsewhere.

“Exactly.", Spencer chimed in. "It’s almost like he is laying his victims to rest”, Spencer said as he pointed out the victims arms crossed over their chests. “However, there is a lot of overkill”, said Morgan inquisitively staring at the many stab wounds that littered the victim's stomachs.

As the team continued to profile the case, Spencer was sneaking glances at Y/n. Spencer and Y/n had been really close friends for a couple of years now, and the doctor knew everything about her. He knew because he spent every moment he could with her. Whether it was watching doctor who or just sipping coffee and talking in his apartment, the two profilers always seemed to be together. Spencer ultimately loved to be around Y/n, and every chance he had, he was. But he always wondered if they could ever be more than just friends. However, the doctor was too nervous to ever pursue these feelings.

As Spencer listened to Garcia resight the details of the case, he glanced to his right to look at Y/n again. When he looked he noticed the agent biting the inside of her lip and studying the file intensely. Spencer knew something was wrong. Y/n only bit her lip when she was really nervous about something. And seeing this behavior made the doctor furrow his brow and glance again at the agent before turning his attention back to the case files.

"With the increasing frequency of these kills, this could turn into a spree very quickly", said Rossi as he looked at the victims upon the board. Aaron stood up and grabbed the files, "Exactly why we can't waste any time, wheels up in 30", he said as he exited the room.

As the team left the room, Y/n rushed past Spencer and headed towards the bathroom to compose herself. As she did, Spencer watched her leave, a worried look covering his face before Rossi came to stand beside the doctor. "What's wrong with her?" He said looking at the doctor. Spencer looked at Rossi and then nervously towards the direction that Y/n went in, "I don't know, but whatever it is...it's making her more nervous than usual”.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom Y/n was trying to take deep breaths to calm herself down. She splashed water on her face as flashes of her childhood played through her head.

“So...you wanna be disrespectful huh?”, Y/n’s father said as he smoked a cigarette. “Please!”, Y/n cried out as her father got closer to her. “I didn’t do anything! Please don’t hurt me!”, She continued to scream. Y/n’s father just laughed as he got closer to his daughter. “Let me teach you a lesson Y/n, about respect”, her father said as he got closer and closer, the lit cigarette burning in his hand.

Y/n tried hard to erase these memories from her mind, but soon tears started to involuntarily run down her cheeks. Y/n quickly covered her mouth to hide the sobs that now racked her body as she hide in the stalls.

After seeing it had been a couple minutes, Y/n took a tissue and wiped her face to try to hide the fact that she had been crying. After she looked at her self in the mirror, Y/n took a deep breath before leaving the bathroom to go meet the team on the plane.

On the plane, Spencer sat in the back, next to Y/n, as he read Dante's, Inferno for the 100th time. Taking a break from reading, Spencer looked over at Y/n to see her staring blankly out of the window, something obviously weighing heavy on her mind. Spencer was starting to become concerned with how Y/n was behaving ever since they got on this case. Y/n was usually a very happy person, she was never one to sit in silence on the plane. She usually talked about the case with the team or she would mindlessly chit chat with Spencer about some nerdy interest the two shared. Spencer, wanting to break the silence, looked towards Y/n and whispered, “Hey, you doing okay?”.

Y/n turned to the doctor and forced a smile onto her face, “Yeah I’m fine Spence, just thinking about the case”. Just as Spencer was about to say something else, JJ’s phone started to ring. After answering, she looked at the team and said, “Another victim has been found in Lendonwood gardens. She was stabbed 27 times in the stomach.”.

“That was fast.”, said Rossi as he looked at the team.

“Your right. The unsub waited a week to kill with his last victim, but this time there was only 5 days between each murder”, Y/n said as she focused her attention from Spencer to the team's conversation.

“Alright. Morgan, Reid, I want you guys to go look at the latest crime scene and see if there is anything new with the latest victim. Emily, I want you to visit the first crime scene and see if you can see anything there. I will start to work victimology at the station with JJ, while Y/n and Rossi will interview the latest victims family and anyone who saw them last”, Aaron said as he quickly assigned the team to tasks. After being given his orders, Spencer glanced at Y/n worryingly, feeling uneasy about not being able to keep an eye on her during this case.

As the team went back to doing their individual activities, Y/n looked at Spencer and saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat. Sensing his uneasiness, Y/n tried to calm the genius's worries,"Hey.", Y/n said as she grabbed the genius's hand and smiled. "I'm fine Spencer, I promise", Y/n said looking the doctor in his hazel eyes and giving him a smile.

Spencer looked at Y/n with a worried expression, "Are you sure?", He said, concern lacing his voice as he held Y/n's hand.

"I'm sure.", said Y/n as she gripped the doctors hand tighter, trying not to show the true anxiety she was feeling as they got closer to landing.

"Okay", Spencer said reluctantly, as he went back to reading his book. He wasn't satisfied with Y/n's answer, but he didn't want to bother her by asking more questions so he left it alone.

When the plane landed, the team gathered all their things and started to de-board the plane. As Spencer de-boarded the plane, he watched Y/n climb into the SUV with Aaron. Rossi looked at the doctor as he de-boarded the plane, noticing his anxious demeanor. Trying to reassure him, Rossi walked up to Spencer and lovingly patted him on the shoulder, "Hey kid, I will keep a close eye on her". Spencer turned to Rossi,smiled, and said, "Thank you.", before following Morgan to the SUV and heading to Lendonwood gardens to assess the latest crime scene.

When Aaron, JJ, Rossi, and Y/n arrived at the police station they were greeted out front by a tall man with a thick southern accent. “Y’all must be from the FBI, I’m sheriff Yates, Thank you for comin’ down.”, he said as he shook Aaron’s hand.

“No problem. I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, how do you do?”, Aaron said as he shook the Detective’s hand. Aaron turned and motioned over to the people standing behind him, “These are agents, Y/n, JJ, and Rossi. The rest of our agents are assessing the crime scenes.”. The agents waved at the detective as he tipped his hat towards them.

“We have had a lot of bodies poppin’ up around here for the past few weeks”, he stated as he turned and started to walked into the building, the agents following closely behind. "Stuff like this doesn't happen in Grove", the detective said solemnly as they walked into the office. Suddenly the sheriff turned to the agents and said, “Sad, what happened to all those women, I knew most of them.... I hope y’all can catch this bastard.” the sheriff said looking at the agents.

“We have our best agents working this case sir, we will try our hardest.”, said Rossi reassuring the officer.

The detective shook this head as he turned to lead the team into the office. Officers and detectives buzzed around, as the sheriff lead them to a room further within the station. “We have a evidence board, table, and chairs set up in there”, the sheriff said as he pointed towards the room. “Thank you”, said Aaron, as he walked into the room with JJ to get set up. Before the sheriff went back to his work, Rossi asked if their was anyone seen with the latest victim before she went missing. The sheriff nodded and said, “Yes actually, the staff at Lendonwood said they saw a couple with the victim prior to the murder”.

“Are they here?", said Y/n as she looked around the office. The sheriff nodded and gestured towards a room, “Yep, they are waiting in that room over there.”. Y/n looked towards the waiting room and said, “Do you mind if we talk to them?”. The sheriff shrugged and said, “Be my guest.”, before he left to give orders to his officers on patrol.

Rossi and Y/n walked over to the waiting room ready to interview the couple. But before Y/n could go into the room Rossi stopped her, “You okay today kiddo, is something on your mind?”, he said looking at Y/n. Y/n contemplated telling Rossi, but she had trouble even thinking about her past, let alone talking about it. So reluctantly Y/n uttered, “I will be fine Rossi, I just wanna solve this case.”, as she turned the door knob. Rossi sighed as he followed Y/n into the room. He knew she was hiding something, he just couldn’t put his finger on what.

But soon it became apparent, as Y/n stopped in her tracks when she saw who was waiting in the small, rundown room. Y/n’s face drained of all color as she looked at the couple in front of her. The couple looked towards the agents who walked in, and a eerie smile crept upon their faces when they saw a face that they recognized. Their smiles sent shivers down Y/n’s spine and made her heart stop.

“Well... Look what the cat dragged in.”, the husband mocked. “My very own daughter”, he said earning a little laugh from his wife as they looked at Y/n’s reaction upon seeing them.

Rossi looked at Y/n with confusion before he quickly took her out of the room. "What is going on?" Rossi thought as he closed the door behind him.

To be continued.....

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