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erin-bo-berin · 4 years

Text

My Heroine

MASTERLIST

This fic was inspired by the song My Heroine by The Maine which you can listen to here, if you’d like. The song I’ve come to realize sounds like it can have multiple interpretations, but I was inspired to use the whole “reader is Spencer’s drug of choice” plot. Not gonna lie it was rough writing about his prison trauma cause I consider it to be one of his biggest traumas, but I kinda wanted this to be a journey from his avoidance of it to his eventual acceptance, all while sex is his “heroin” or the reader is the “heroine” in his story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 4,460

I’m feeling pretty dirty baby

Forgive my sins

I get the feeling you can save me honey,

My heroine

The silver gleam from the sharp blade caught his eye as it hit the light. In any other circumstances, the sharpness of it might actually be considered beautiful.

This was anything but beautiful.

This was horrifying.

The metal was so closely pressed to skin that even a small flinch could draw blood.

“Never ever mess with a man’s stash on the inside. When you do,” the man paused for a second—a millisecond—before the knife sliced across the skin, ripping the hostage’s throat open.

He struggled against the person holding him, his momentary shock and need to help his friend making him fight the grip of the big man, even more.

“People get hurt,” the first guy said, backing away.

The second man let go of him, his friend falling to the floor, choking on his own blood. While they made their departure from the laundry room, he ran to his injured friend’s side, grabbing a towel to hold against the wound.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, kneeling over the only friendly face he’d known in the last weeks.

If he repeated it enough, he’d be okay. He had to be.

“Guard!” he yelled.

His hands cradled his friend’s face as he lay gasping and wheezing, the fear in his eyes matching his own.

In all the years, throughout all the things he saw that most normal people didn’t, he’d never been as terrified as he was right now. His heart raced from the fear and he was breathing heavy as he screamed as loud as he could.

“HELP! HELLLLP!”

Spencer shot up in bed, breathing hard.

His face was sweaty, his entire body was sweaty, in fact. His t-shirt clung to his skin.

He kicked off the covers, sitting on the side of his bed, running his hands through his hair. He tried in vain to calm his pounding heart and slow his breathing.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

A rare burst of anger caused him to shove the object that was sitting on his nightstand, off of it with extreme force.

He glared at the journal on the floor where it had landed haphazardly. He didn’t want to write in it like his therapist suggested. It didn’t help him then and it wasn’t going to help him now.

He rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to erase all the images that constantly played behind his eyes, regardless if he was asleep or awake.

It was the middle of the night, but he knew what he needed. He grabbed his phone off the charger and sent a quick text.

I need a distraction.

The recipient would understand, he knew. It was only 1 am and they were known to be a night owl anyway.

He grabbed a pair of pants to change into and pulled them on in place of his pajama pants. All he had to grab were his car keys and his phone and he was out the door.

It’d only been six months since Spencer had been released from prison in which he spent three long, grueling months in.

He had been framed.

That was the first thing he remembered thinking, even under the influence of heroin and cocaine, in which the unsub had drugged him with. He had been sitting in a prison cell in Mexico, but deep down he knew he hadn’t done anything, even if his mind was scrambled and tried desperately to convince himself otherwise.

Fucking Cat Adams. If she hadn’t been such a psychopath, he might’ve admired her intelligence and skills to pull off something so elaborate, but alas, she was.

Her and her female partner Lindsey Vaughn had been watching him, waiting to strike. All because Spencer had arrested Cat and outsmarted her. It’s where she belonged after all. She’d been a

hit woman, operating in the shadows of the dark web that even experts in the area couldn’t even fathom.

She, along with four other assassins had been working for years before any law enforcement even knew of their existence. Spencer and the rest of his fellow Behavioral Analysis team had been the only ones to get close enough to them. Close enough in fact, to take them all down, every last one.

Cat Adams though, had been the hardest one. She was one to play mind games and she hated to lose. Which she had against him; he’d outsmarted her and she was the one who’d landed in a prison cell.

Of course, being the kind of person she was, she wasn’t going to take that lying down. So, she returned the favor.

He had been determined to help his mother—Diana Reid—who’d been suffering from paranoid schizophrenia all his life, but now had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. He was smart, he was sure he could help her, fix her maybe.

There’d been a plethora of drug trials, medicine combinations, diet changes, but nothing helped. So without his teammates—who happened to be the closest friends he had—knowledge, he had been crossing the Mexico border numerous times to get medicine for his mother, one that was definitely not FDA approved.

It was one of these trips that Lindsey—and technically Cat too—had struck.

She’d dosed him with a spray of scopolamine, pumped him full of cocaine and heroin and murdered the woman he’d been meeting to get the vials of medicine from.

It was bad, really bad. He was the prime suspect in the murder and that is how he ended up in Millburn Correctional Facility pending trial for three months.

Thankfully, the BAU had worked their asses off to clear his name, but in the time spent in prison he had experienced some pretty awful things.

If that hadn’t been bad enough, Cat had orchestrated another evil plan. Lindsey had managed to kidnap his mother.

Less than 12 hours after being released from jail, he was back in another one to face Cat again and play her games.

She had been executed for her crimes and the additional charges she faced for framing him and kidnapping his mother. He wasn’t the least bit remorseful; if anything, he was glad he’d never have to deal with her again. He dealt with her in his mind enough as is.

Spencer didn’t deal with emotions very well, so it was no surprise to himself that he didn’t stop to process his trauma.

Instead, he found other outlets.

He’d known Y/N for several years but had done an awful job of keeping in touch as the years passed. He’d recently reconnected with her before his arrest and then he’d pulled away again.

He felt bad for never telling her until after the fact, but he’d been embarrassed enough.

She was a good friend, one who had said she would do anything to help him if and when he needed it.

That’s how the arrangement began. It’d happened once, by accident, but it had helped him forget everything when he needed it the most.

Which is why at 1 a.m. he was headed over to her house, just to forget everything for a while.

Your hips, my hands, you swing and you dance

Yeah, I’m feeling pretty lonely baby

Just let me in

The door to her apartment opened to reveal her barefoot and in a long, oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

He didn’t waste time with the greetings, he kicked the door closed with his foot and grabbed her face, kissing her.

Within minutes he had her pressed up against her door, hands roaming under her shirt as he kissed her hungrily.

He wanted to forget.

Needed to forget.

She moaned into the kiss. Lucky for him, she got horny easily. She was always ready to go at it whenever. Maybe it had something to do with him, although he didn’t know. He never really took the time to dwell on it.

His fingers stroked her bare stomach as his tongue moved against hers. Her hands clutched the bottom of his shirt, pulling away long enough to help him yank it over his head. Her shirt followed suit.

For a while, they stayed there, top halves pressed against one another as their lips moved together in a complicated, yet simple dance.

They made out for a while, while Spencer forced his brain to empty and focus on her. It finally worked as he felt his crotch tighten, his need for her now more than just something to get him through the night.

She led him back to her bedroom and within minutes was kneeling in front of him, pulling his cock out of his pants.

“You gonna be a good little girl and suck my cock?” he mumbled, looking down at her with lidded eyes.

Normally, he would never fathom talking like this. But something had changed within him in the last six months. He was rougher around the edges, he quite literally didn’t give a fuck anymore. Which proved to be true since he quite literally had a fuck buddy—something the old Spencer wouldn’t even consider.

He cared about her, but like him, she didn’t want anything serious, so he never felt too bad taking advantage of her this way. Weren’t they both using each other anyway?

“Your wish is my command,” she purred, making his cock throb even more.

The moment her mouth touched him, his eyes closed in pure bliss, the feeling chasing the nightmares away.

His hand threaded in her hair, guiding her head as her tongue glided and mouth hollowed out, sucking him like her favorite popsicle. She was amazing at this, he definitely had to give her that.

“Y/N, fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking up towards her mouth.

Her tongue was his gateway to an anxiety free mind—at least for the time being.

He pushed her away after a few minutes. He wasn’t going to last if she kept that up much longer.

With surprising agility, he’d had her from her knees to bent over the end of the bed in seconds.

Their sessions were far from romantic love making—the type of intimacy he knew she deserved—but more animalistic and frenzied.

He knew he was selfish and instead of letting her have what she deserved from a man, he held tight to her like she was his lifeline.

In a way, she had become his lifeline. Things got worse the longer he tried to stay away from her. That’s why he always returned.

Her moans and the slap of their bodies were the only sounds heard in the room as he thrust deep into her. Even as fucked up as he was, he had to be an idiot to not admit that sex with her was incredible. She was incredible.

“Spencer, oh my god, fuck.”

Her words came out in a strangled moan as he’d switched up the movements of his hips. Instead of the fast and harsh thrusts, they turned into slow and deeper ones. He may only be her fuck buddy, but he was still gonna be damn sure she got her pleasure out of it too.

His fingers dug into her hips as he tried to erase the images of his earlier nightmare with every thrust. Usually, it worked. Tonight though, he was struggling.

Instead of disappearing, the memories kept flashing through his head like a silent movie on repeat.

The helplessness everyone felt in that prison.

The fear he felt.

The images of a group of white men who pointed a knife in his face his first full night in prison.

Two, sneering and sadistically joyful faces hovering over him as they beat him to a pulp, smothering his face with a rag.

His desperate decision in doing something so awful that it hurt more men than he intended it to.

The constant paranoia.

The fear he had become a monster.

Every single moment inside he’d spent that he had to make choices he’d never fathomed he’d have to—only to survive.

Delgado.

“Switch it up,” he muttered, pulling out of her, turning her around.

His jaw was tense, his body was rigid. All he wanted was one orgasm to erase his nightmare.

Her eyes narrowed, sensing his tension but knowing better than to comment on it.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

She pushed him towards the head of the bed, ordering him to sit against it. He did as he was told, focusing all of his attention on her again.

When she climbed into his lap to straddle him, his breathing had become ragged and he was glad that the stirrings of his arousal were coming back—his sexual attraction to her luring him back in again.

She sank down on him and he exhaled sharply, groaning lowly. The feeling of her tight around him was always like drinking water after being utterly parched.

“You like that?” she purred, her hands resting against his chest, “You like when I take care of you?”

“Very much so,” he growled.

He thread his hand into the back of her hair, pulling her face towards his. He kissed her roughly, his lower half meeting the speed she’d set since she was now the one in charge. Her pelvis grinded against his, giving her even more pleasure, he was sure.

As much as he did this for his benefit, he also had a small sense of pride in knowing he could make her moan and writhe like he did. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging them and she threw her head back with a loud moan.

He could practically fall apart at that sight alone, but he managed to resist.

His lips attached to her throat, sucking harshly, sure to leave a mark. Their moves were frantic as she gripped the headboard and he bucked relentlessly into her.

They both spiraled into ecstasy, not that far apart from one another.

Sweaty and out of breath, she moved off of him, gathering her clothes and tossing his own to him.

“Want something to eat before you go?”

She asked it so nonchalantly it was as if he hadn’t just spent about half an hour buried to the hilt in her.

“No, thanks though.”

He wasn’t one to stay long after the deed, even though a part of him felt like an ass for it. Y/N didn’t deserve that. But if it ever bothered her, she never let on.

She nodded, watching him as he finished pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m around, if you need me.”

Spencer gave a nod and headed to the door, grabbing his car keys on his way out.

You’re my heroine, but you’re suicide

If I let you in you’ll crawl inside

You save my skin

But you can’t wait to sink in

My heroine

In a way, Y/N had become his drug.

Whenever things got too hard, he went to her. But lately, it was like every time he fucked her, it only left him needing more.

His PTSD was getting worse, the sex was only distracting him for so long, but he was stubborn. He wasn’t going to give her up anytime soon.

The PTSD was also affecting his work and he knew it.

It’d been six months since his release from prison, but he’d only been reinstated for three months. He worked his ass off to get his position back and he wasn’t about to let his emotions get the best of him.

He was currently trying to focus on the geo profile in front of him, but his vision kept blurring. He rubbed his eye, trying hard to block out everything else but this case.

He was becoming increasingly irritable as well.

It had only been a week since his last visit to Y/N, but he was craving her and her distractions so much. His nightmares hadn’t ceased, he was hardly sleeping and his teammates weren’t oblivious.

They knew he was having a hard time readjusting.

Spencer doubted they knew just how bad it really was though.

The map blurred in front of his eyes again, the sight being replaced with moving pictures, his memories being played before his eyes.

Like the time he was so desperate to survive, he poisoned drugs that he was supposed to move, instead of getting involved with the situation.

He ended up causing several men to get incredibly sick—his guilt over that still haunted him at night.

Prison was an incredibly dangerous place and he had been too good of a person to survive as long as he had.

For a while he’d had two friends; Delgado and Shaw.

One was murdered in front of him.

The other turned out to be using him. Shaw ran the entire prison population. He called the shots and people listened to him. But Spencer wanted no part of that.

Making an enemy of Shaw had been deadly. In fact, it came close to being deadly. Spencer could’ve easily lost his life behind bars.

It had been months since he had been locked up, but the sense of helplessness he felt still haunted him to this day. It smothered him like the sweltering heat on a hot, summer day.

He rubbed his palms into his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe while at the same time his heart rate accelerated. His sense of fight or flight was being triggered and he couldn’t stop the sense of dread that was engulfing his senses.

“Spence, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just need some fresh air,” he answered, brushing past a worried JJ.

The moment he exited the crowded police station and the cool air hit his face, he felt fractionally better, but the anxiety still gripped him.

He gripped his tie, yanking at it and loosening it, so he could breathe. The feel of it around his neck had been making him feel like he was suffocating more so than he already had been.

His therapist had told him panic attacks were normal with PTSD, but he hadn’t had them much. This was an exception apparently.

He leaned against the brick of the building and tried to focus on his breathing to bring his heart rate down. After all he’d endured, he wasn’t about to let a damn panic attack take him down.

His eyes were closed as he tried to calm down, so he didn’t hear Luke approaching.

“Reid.”

He opened his eyes, seeing his teammate Luke Alvez, standing next to him.

He wondered how he currently looked through Luke’s eyes. A mess, probably.

Luke didn’t beat around the bush, either.

“Your PTSD has gotten worse, hasn’t it?” he asked, gently.

Spencer shrugged.

“Spencer, if you need to take some time—”

“I don’t need to take time off because I’m fine,” he snapped.

Luke flinched as if Spencer had physically hit him. If anything, he knew that his outburst was just further proof at how not okay he was.

“I need to get back to work,” he mumbled, moving around Luke to head back inside.

He wasn’t sure of anything much lately, but one thing he knew for sure was when they got back from the current case, he was heading straight to Y/N’s apartment.

I feel a little withdrawal baby,

Come pick me up

Took a hit from your level

Now I just can’t get enough

Your taste, my touch

A little bit of love and a whole lot of lust

He was back at her door, knocking.

She opened the door, dressed in another oversized t-shirt—due to the late hour of night—and greeted him with a wordless nod. Somehow, he thought she knew that he was having a bad time today.

He looked like shit, that he knew. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, his eyes were bloodshot and deep, dark bags shined brightly under his face, darker than his normal appearance. His cheekbones were more prominent lately as well since he wasn’t eating much, nor was he sleeping well either.

“How do you want me?” she asked.

Her tone was dull and to the point and threw him off guard for a moment. She’d never made it about her, ever. But now, looking at her, he could see her unhappiness. Whether he caused it or not, he was unsure.

This arrangement of theirs had been only to help him forget. Too quickly, it had become like an addiction for him. She was like his drug. He needed her to forget. But maybe, at the same time, she was tired of trying to help him when he couldn’t even help himself.

He promised himself that this would be the last time. Once more and he’d let her go. He’d let her be free of him. She’d be happier anyways.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.

He tried to be gentle as he pulled her towards him. As he kissed her, he felt her body melt into his. Maybe he had been imagining her mood earlier.

He tried to focus on getting hard, not on all the horrors that constantly swirled in his mind.

His lips moved swiftly with hers in a kiss that was anything but romantic or gentle. It was lust driven and filled with his own desperate need to be distracted.

She knew exactly what to do to get him in the mood, that’s for sure.

Her teeth tugged at his lower lip gently, her tongue almost the complete opposite of their current actions. It was gentle and hesitant as it met his before continuing its dance with his own.

He pulled her closer, his hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her more roughly, pushing her against the arm of her couch.

In the blink of an eye, he had her turned around and bent over the arm, his hand gliding over the silk material of her underwear. He felt a small swell of pride hearing her moan as he touched her. It also went a long way in helping his own arousal which was now throbbing in his pants.

He was already unbuttoning his pants as he kissed her neck, his hips pressing into hers. The more he got into it, the more he actually felt that he wanted this—that he wanted her.

With one smooth movement, he had her underwear pulled down to her thighs and he entered her with a groan.

But he couldn’t focus.

Somehow, without him realizing it, the memories had slipped through a crack in his mind.

Instead of being there with Y/N, he was back in that cell.

The countless hours sitting in a cell, trying to remember something he never did.

The desperation, the helplessness in that place.

Familiar faces he dealt with sped across his mind.

Malcolm, Shaw, Delgado, Wilkins. Frazier, Duerson, the two men who gave him a beating meant for Delgado.

The fear he felt in those final days when he had no one to trust, when he had to stab himself in the leg to get into solitary confinement, just to stay alive.

The horrible memories were flashing in his head at the speed of lightning.

“Ow! Spencer, you’re hurting me.”

Spencer snapped back to the present, realizing his fingers were creating bruises on Y/N’s hips from his too tight grip.

“This isn’t working,” he said in way of an apology, pulling out of her.

He was already going soft anyway, the previous arousal now completely gone and replaced by his racing thoughts and memories.

“It’s fine,” she muttered, pulling down her t-shirt and pulling up her underwear.

He had just zipped up his suit pants—he’d come straight from the jet—when she spoke again.

“Actually, no. It’s not okay.”

Spencer blinked in surprise at her harsh tone. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her raise her voice.

“I’m sick of this Spencer! I know we started this a while ago for...reasons,” she flapped her hand in midair as if demonstrating all the unsaid things between them.

“But I can’t do it anymore. I care about you Spencer. Honestly right now I don’t know if it’s as more than a friend or just as a friend but that’s another can of worms to open another time. You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep coming to me and fucking me to try and rid your demons. You’ve been through a hell of a lot and you didn’t deserve any of it, but I’m not going to stand her and watch my friend destroy himself because he refuses to get the help he so desperately needs.”

Spencer stood, frozen in place, mouth agape. It was then he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“We have a lot to sort out between us, eventually, but you need to help yourself first,” she whispered, as if feeling defeated by her previous outburst.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say.

“I know facing everything, processing it all is a scary feeling, Spencer. Even if you tried reaching out to a friend to talk through it, that would be a big step. I just...I just want you to get better.”

A single tear slid down her cheek and he did the worst possible thing to do.

He fled her apartment like the coward he was.

•

He didn’t go home.

Instead, he walked around the city as the daylight receded and the sun slipped behind the horizon, saying goodnight to the world until the next day.

He spent a lot of time thinking.

He ended up dashing into a busy diner he came across as the night sky opened up and rain began falling in sheets.

He sat in his booth, absentmindedly sipping on the cup of coffee he’d ordered and watched the rain fall in the darkness outside.

In an ironic way, the weather outside was similar to the turmoil he felt inside.

Just like the completely blackened sky outside, he felt just as dark and empty. The storm was similar to the storm of emotions, memories, traumas he continually tried to squash, all in the wrong ways.

He knew ignoring his problems wouldn’t make them go away; he also knew using sex as a distraction was the worst possible thing to do as well, yet he’d continued to do it and he’d hurt more than just himself in the process.

He’d hurt his friends, who’d only wanted to help, but pushed them away. He’d hurt Y/N, who didn’t deserve to be treated like a plaything, yet he kept coming back, making things worse.

By the time he’d finished his coffee, he decided what he wanted to do. What he knew he needed to do.

I’m feeling pretty lonely baby,

So just let me in

Just let me in

He’d ran through the pouring rain. He didn’t even bother to try to take any transportation. The rain felt like it was washing him clean from the horrors of the last year.

He was back at her door, but this time, for a different reason.

He was soaking wet and felt a lot like a dog with his tail between his legs, but he refused to chicken out once again. So, he knocked.

She answered, this time in actual pajamas rather than the attire she was in hours before.

Maybe it was the expression he wore or something she saw in his face because she didn’t immediately slam the door in his face—something he knew he deserved. She stood patiently, almost questioningly, waiting for him to speak first.

He took a deep breath before speaking the words he should’ve uttered months ago.

“I’m ready to talk. I’m ready to get the help I need.”

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lavendermenaceart · 5 years

Text

Atlas Touch

Summary: Spencer never thought the universe held him in high favor. Trauma after trauma stacked on top of him as the years went by. He fears he’s reaching a dark place he’ll never recover from. 2,324 words.

Warnings: Angst, trauma, Knives, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of suicidal ideation and death, etc. It gets fluffy!

Pairing: ReaderxSpencer Reid

A/N: This was a request from @allmyawesomeness Enjoy! Here’s the song this is based off of

When will I feel this as vivid as it truly is

Spencer Reid remembered almost every second of his life in vivid images. He remembered every word he ever read, every face he’d ever seen, every motel and hotel he had been in. Spencer Reid remembered every kick, every punch, every second spent bound and tied. He remembered every moment even when he was high out of his mind on Dilaudid. He remembered every gun, knife, and any other weapons that had been pointed at him, used on him, or someone he loved.

Fall in love in a single touch

And fall apart when it hurts too much

He remembered the exact face the love of his life made as the bullet ripped through her brain. He remembered the tearful smile on her face, and the fear trying to hide in the depths of her eyes. He remembered trying not to recount exactly what happened to the body when the brain was damaged, shot clean through, as he fell to his knees. He remembered the blood that pooled around his feet and knees. It wasn’t even purely hers, as her killer had committed suicide with the same bullet.

Can’t we skip past near-death cliches where my heart restarts

As my life replays

He remembered being tied to a chair after being ambushed in a cornfield. He remembered the face of the man who had held him captive and gave Spencer peace through syringes filled with Dilaudid. He remembered dying, feeling like he was suspended in a warm pitch black abyss. He remembered being ripped through the abyss and back into life. He remembered the split second of anger. Please, let me go back.

All I want is to flip a switch before something breaks that cannot be fixed

He remembered the countless hours spent at JJ’s house when one of their team had died. He remembered sitting in his bathtub full of cold water, trying to keep himself from heading outside to try and find a new supply of Dilaudid or anything that would take the edge off, to find peace and slow his mind. He remembered the anger and betrayal when the team was finally told that Emily was alive and well. He remembered feeling an irreversible rift tear open between JJ and himself. The rift repaired itself slowly, as did the rift between all the members.

I know, I know the siren sound

Just before the walls come down

He remembered finding out his mother was only getting sicker with age. Soon she would no longer remember him and he wanted so badly to reverse it. He remembered feeling angry that he took this course in his life, instead of doing something with medical research. Maybe he could have found a cure for dementia and schizophrenia if he had. All he could do was research and look for solutions. Those solutions led him to a woman in Mexico that gave him medicine unapproved by the FDA that would help his mother.

Pains a well-intentioned weatherman

Predicting God as best he can

He remembered people bursting in and for a split second he thought it must be police or government agents but something wasn’t right. He remembered waking up next to the woman’s body, a gash in his hand and blood all over him. He remembered the months spent wasting in jail as his team scrambled to find the answers his mind couldn’t procure. All the restless nights, the death of his one friend, and the pain he caused when he poisoned the drug supply that ran through the prison. He remembered the beatings and the isolation. He remembered the joy he felt when his team had managed to clear his name and spring him from prison. He remembered the joy being sucked away when he had to go back to interrogate Cat Adams after she had kidnapped his mother.

The infuriating frustration of dealing with a narcissistic psychopath could never be topped. His team and himself got her back safely, though. Catherine had been manipulating a previous victim, pretending she had feelings for the younger girl so she would do her bidding. That broke the whole operation apart when Lindsey heard the Cat was pregnant.

But God I want to feel again

Rain or shine

I don’t feel a thing

Just some information upon my skin

When he was captured by Merva he felt vehement hope and faith in his team. Even when the knife was pressed deep into his throat. Something changed when he heard the gunshot that tore through Merva’s side. Spencer felt the jolt of shock and all the pressure of having another body pressed against his was relieved as the old man fell into the grass and dirt.

When that gunshot went off, he remembered every moment he had been shot, tied up, kidnapped, beaten, cut, high, and hurt. He saw Maeve’s steely gaze as she tried to be brave her death. He saw his mother’s open mouth, screaming “I hate you!” He felt the sting of her slaps on his cheek. He felt the ropes used to restrain him and the pinprick of a needle entering his skin. He felt relief that Garcia was going to be okay.

But he felt no relief to still be alive.

I miss the subtle aches when the weather changed

The barometric pressure we always blamed

All I want is to flip a switch

Before something breaks that cannot be fixed

After that case, something in Spencer broke. He felt a rising bitterness towards his job. For the remaining year, he stayed at the BAU, not having the guts to quit and his team not having the heart to fire him, he couldn’t apply himself as he usually would have. He cared people were hurting, but he felt that he was losing faith in the fact that what he did mattered. He was a cog in the machine, and as soon as they knew he was rusting they would replace him with a new one. He was nothing to anyone if he didn’t care and if he didn’t apply himself.

And Spencer Reid wanted that.

Invisible machinery, these moving parts inside of me

Well they’ve been shutting down for quite some time

Leaving only rust behind

Spencer Reid wanted to be hated. He wanted to feel the contention between him and his team. He wanted to force Prentiss’ hand so she would have to fire him. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. No matter how depressed and numb he got, he couldn’t manage to give up his life’s work on his own. When the time came, Emily look him in his eyes and told him, “I know what you’re doing.” and then more softly, “I’ll let you free”

I know, I know the siren sound

Just before the walls come down

His life, from that moment on, began a terrifying free fall. He got what he wanted, but he still wasn’t happy. Instead, he fell deep into a stagnant pool of heavy depression. He barely read, barely ate, very rarely went outside. He stopped taking calls, responding to texts and emails, and never answered the door. It wasn’t until his best friend, Derek Morgan, broke down his door with tears in his eyes and wrapped Spencer in a hug that knocked the air out of him, that Spencer accepted he truly had a problem.

Pains a well-intentioned weatherman

Predicting God as best he can

But God I want to feel again

Oh god, I want to feel again

After that day Spencer worked hard at his recovery. A week into his first therapy sessions he ran into you as you left your last session of the day.

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. “ You huffed, reorganizing the pile of reference books and journals stacked in your arms.

“Oh, it’s no problem. Don’t worry.” The low raspy voice sounded familiar.

“Dr. Reid?” You looked up from your books, blinking in shock. You had seen him at many conventions and public speaking events. You were a fan of his work, both what he did with the BAU and his medical journals and papers.

“Uh, Yes. Have we met before?” He glanced from you to the door, shoving his hands in his pockets. You couldn’t tell if he didn’t like you for some reason or if he just wanted to leave.

“Oh, no. I’m just a fan of your work. I’ve read most of your medical journals and papers. It’s helped me a lot in understanding some of my clients.” You smiled, trying to appear more friendly, something you still needed to work on.

Your smile seemed to relax him, as he smiled back. “Thank you, that...means a lot to me. It’s not very often I meet uh, fans of my work.”

“Oh, I feel like that’s the case with a lot of people in our field.” You shrugged, a silence falling between the two of you as you both left the building side by side. You thought it was odd, but for some reason, it didn’t feel awkward. It was just...synchronistic. “I’ll see you soon?” You asked as you were ready to split from his side to go to your car.

Dr. Reid seemed shocked by this, stammering for a moment before nodding and saying “Yes, most likely. See you soon.”

And you went your separate ways until his next session. From then on, it became something of a habit. You met with him after his sessions and you both talked on your way out until one day you got the nerve to ask if he’d like to meet for dinner the next day.

“What, really?” Spencer was looking better, his face shaved and you noticed he was filling out his clothes more than he had when you first met him.

“Yeah, if you want to. I don’t know, I just thought...we were friends, you know?” You looked all around his face, just not in his eyes. You were too afraid, too scared to be let down.

“We….we are. We are friends.” You caught the crinkles in his eyes and realized he was smiling. You couldn’t help but grin, blushing in embarrassment. Your outburst of insecurity made you feel like a teenager again. “Yeah, I would love that, Y/N.”

You both went over the place and time, a nice Italian restaurant that was between where you both lived. It was warm with low lighting and the food was delicious. Spencer looked amazing and you both felt an unfamiliar warmth in your hearts as you looked over each other's outfits and the way your features were exaggerated in the warm candlelight. The conversation was an easy flow, Spencer throwing out his facts and you digging for more. You wanted to know more. You wanted to map all the pathways in his brain.

There were moments during the dinner where your eyes would meet his and maybe it was the candles, maybe it was the venue, but you felt bolts of lightning strike your nerves. A few times you wanted to jump in your chair. Meanwhile, Spencer was having trouble keeping his mouth under control. As he heated up in his suit, his eyes constantly locking and unlocking with yours across the table, he couldn't stop talking about the physiology and psychology of love

From then, it was all uphill. Spencer was making his recovery by your side. There hard days, but he was strong enough to get past him. He spilled most of his hardships to you, never going very in depth but stating basic facts. He went to prison because he was framed. His ex-was murdered in front of him. He was kidnapped and fed Dilaudid. He used to be an addict. He had been shot and kidnapped multiple times. He had gotten anthrax on a case. The trauma piled higher and higher and you stayed by his side through every breakdown and every insecurity.

He was there for you as much as you were for him. He danced with you when the mood struck you, drank coffee by your side every morning he was off from his new job as a professor and public speaker. He held your hand during the dinners with his old team, as the jokingly interrogated you over delicious pasta.

It was 3 years. 3 years exactly when you proposed. You were afraid Spencer would never ask, so you decided you would do it yourself. You went to his favorite bookstore and then his favorite coffee shop. You took him on a long ride, only stopping when you found a field and you could see the stars again. After you ate and a comfortable silence fell between the two of you, you brought out a dark purple velvet box with a simple golden band with a clear engraving on the inside.

“This is how galaxies collide.”

Down my arms, a thousand satellites suddenly discover signs of life

Your wedding attire contrasted with his. Black and white. Yin and yang. You could hear soft chatter from the small crowd around you, mostly a mixture between Spencer's friends and family and your own. His old team and new co-workers mingled nicely though there was an obvious difference between the two groups. One was weathered by endless years of trauma while one was tired from grading papers all night.

As you spun in slow circles, your cheek rested against Spencer's shoulder you could hear his heart beating wildly in his chest. You tilted your head back, meeting his eyes with yours. You felt that same jolt of energy you did 3 years ago. He was focused, but not on the dance or the crowd of people encircling them under the night sky and beautiful string lights.

“What are you thinking about?” You whispered softly, watching his vision clear as his eyes locked onto your face, lit warmly by the lights twinkling above the dancing pair.

“You. Always you.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #spencer reid #my reider #my fanfiction #writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #self insert #self insert fanfiction #spencer reidxreader #reader #cm #cm fanfic #cm fanfiction #reider

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thorne93 · 7 years

Text

What Are We Gonna Do? (Part 13)

Prompt: Imagine that you’re Spencer Reid’s wife, and you get the news of his arrest in Mexico. But you’ve been keeping something from him and the team. How will it affect Spencer?

Word Count: 2366

Warnings: Language, violence, anger, drama, angst

Notes: This picks up right at the beginning of Season 12, episode 13. Spoilers from here till then. Thanks to my beta @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Tags: @ultrarebelheart @cocosierra94 @demongodess @brooklhyn @marvel-imagines-yes-please

~~~~~~~~~

JJ stayed with you into the evening to make sure you were safe.

“This is still my fault,” you said quietly, curled up on a single chair in your living room.

“Y/N, don’t. You had no idea.”

“But I’m a profiler, JJ, I should’ve seen the lies in that girl. I should’ve paid attention when Spencer said her name was different in the jail. I shouldn’t have just taken her word when Cassie appeared missing--”

She stopped you. “Hey, you didn’t know any of this would happen. Often times, we fail to see what’s right in front of us because we’re too close to the situation.”

“How can he ever forgive me? If Diana dies--” You choked on the lump in your throat before swallowing it. “If Diana dies, it’ll destroy him. He won’t want anything to do with me. He’ll blame me and he should.”

“Hey, if I know Spence, I know he would never hold you accountable.”

“But he should,” you countered.

“Why are you punishing yourself this way?” JJ asked.

“I don’t know. I just… I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to her.”

“We will find her.”

Just then, your phone rang, it was Emily and the team.

“Good news, bad news,” she announced through your speaker phone.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“I’m on the books first thing tomorrow with Judge Frost and AUSA Martinez.”

“But all we have is a theory, and no support from the brass.”

“That’s never stopped us before,” Emily reminded, and a small, tiny, flicker of hope ignited in your chest.

“So we have 12 hours to make an airtight case for you to bring them,” JJ surmised as her eyes flashed to yours.

“Yes, not only that, but we also need a paper trail.”

Rossi mentioned coffee and you sprang from your seat like your ass was on fire.

“What are you doing?” JJ wondered.

You slipped on your hoodie and grabbed your purse. “I’m going to save my husband from that bitch. You coming?”

She nodded and made a face of approval and you jumped in the car and floored it to the office. You arrived in PJs with JJ on your heels.

“Where do we start?” you demanded as you walked in and dropped your purse.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Rossi asked. “You need rest…”

“I need my husband home,” you countered, already opening files. If it were you, he wouldn’t stop until you were home and that’s what you planned to do for him.

“Y/N, could you come with me?” Emily asked politely. You stood and followed her to her office, where Garcia was sitting.

“Hey, mama bear,” she greeted as she hugged you, looking upset, but you kept quiet.

“Were you able to get Lindsey’s files from WITSEC?” Emily questioned.

“I’m close but I need more time,” Garcia told her.

“Garcia, what’s wrong?” Em asked.

“Reid stabbed himself to get into solitary confinement,” she explained. Your hands flew to your mouth as you gasped.

“What?! He did what?!” you said.

“Oh, that’s great,” Emily said with a sigh of relief.

“How is that good?!” you demanded, shrieking.

“Well, he found a way to isolate himself,” she tried.

“My husband just stabbed himself and you think it’s great? Are you insane?”

“I know it’s not ideal--”

“Not ideal? No, Emily it’s a fucking catastrophe.”

“And here’s this,” Garcia added, handing an envelope to Emily.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“It’s my letter of resignation,” she informed both of you.

“Oh, honey,” you crouched next to her. “You don’t have to do that.”

But she was already shaking her head. “If Reid dies, I quit,” she countered, firmly.

“We won’t let that happen,” Emily vowed.

You nodded. “Garcia, come on. It’s me. It’s gummy bear, you think I’m going to let a psychopathic son of a bitch take Spencer away from me?”

“He already has. You don’t go see him any more. You’re mad at each other. He’s already winning. Reid is almost killing himself, just to keep himself safe.”

The truth of her words stung deeper than you ever thought they would. Because she was right. You’d let Lindsey and Scratch win. You let them tear your family apart.

“No one knows more than me how dire and upsetting this is,” you said.

“I’m exhausted. If Reid dies, I know that you’ll be right behind him to leave,” she informed and the silence from you confirmed that as you flashed a guilty look to Emily. “This whole thing is breaking me. I can’t watch you be in any more pain, I can’t have the people I love be distressed…And this whole year has been a roller coaster, and every time something happens, a little piece of me is chipped away. And if one more thing happens, I don’t think there’s going to be anything left.”

“Then I support your decision,” you said finally after some silence had settled in the room.

“What?” Emily demanded softly.

“She’s right, Em. This job...it wears on you. In three months, I think I’ve started to grow gray hairs. Every time I’m out in the field with Spence, I’m terrified. So if she feels like she needs to leave, I get it.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Alright. Well let’s make sure we get Reid home safe.”

Emily grabbed the papers and files and brought them into the conference room as you joined everyone.

“We leave no stone unturned.”

“And if I find out you did, I’ll have your head on a platter,” you threatened to everyone. Everyone nodded and got to work.

-------------

About an hour in, Tara said, “Hey, guys. Okay. I got Carol Atkinson crossing the border in Los Indios.”

And like that, life was breathed back into you.

“There’s a factory nearby that manufactures non-FDA-approved seasickness tablets, essentially, scopolamine pills.”

Thank the heavens above.

“Los Indios is only a 40 minute drive from Matamoros,” Luke added.

“Looks like we’ve got Lindsey where we need her,” Rossi informed, a warm smile on his face as he looked at you.

“Now we put the knife in her hand,” Emily instructed.

Hours drug on as you continually looked through the papers, fighting the sleep that begged for you to take it. You couldn’t have coffee because of the baby either, so it was all you, all will power.

The flicker of hope was burning inside you but Emily was meeting in just an hour and you needed more proof, now.

JJ found that Jack’s gun was used the day before Nadie’s murder. Deliberation went around the table about it, and it was discovered that it was Lindsey’s bullet. More questioning flew around as you were trying to keep up, but this pregnancy was making you exhausted. Luke spoke up and said that there was an abandoned truck found by Mexican authorities that matched Spence’s description, that was dumped 2 states over and it belonged to Victor Flores.

You didn’t want to be a party pooper, but you were a realist. “Okay, this is great, everyone. But...isn’t this all circumstantial?”

“She’s right,” Emily agreed. “Garcia, any luck finding Lindsey’s prints from her WITSEC file?”

“I called in every favor I can think of and then some. It’s gonna take me like five more hours to cut through this red tape.”

----------

Emily was about to leave when you said you wanted to go with her.

“I need to be there. I want to fight that son of a bitch prosecutor,” you said, clenching your fist.

“Which is why you won’t be there. Y/N, you’re an amazing agent, and usually, you’re well composed, but so far, when it comes to Spence, you’re too...emotional,” she countered. “It would be best if I went, on my own, as an agent.”

“Okay, you’re right. But you call me as soon as you hear something,” you demanded.

“You know I will.” She hugged you and left.

You waited in the conference room at work as everyone sat tensely, awaiting the call with some sort of news.

“While we have a few moments, I just want you all to know it means the world to me that you all have worked on this case for hours, when you’re exhausted.”

“Hey, you’re family,” Rossi said as he rubbed your back.

“I know but...still...this wasn’t easy, it was exhausting, daunting, and frustrating and my hormonal ass didn’t make it any better.” You laughed, for what seemed like the first time in ages.

“Even if we get Spence out though, we’re not out of the woods yet. We need to find Diana,” you reminded.

“And we will,” Walker promised.

“I know…”

Your phone rang and you picked it up faster than anyone could blink.

“I talked to Judge Frost. She’s exonerated him, you can go get him from the prison.”

“Oh my god!” you screamed as you jumped up and everyone jumped in fright. “Emily, thank you. Oh my god. Thank you.”

You hung up and you were so excited, you weren’t even thinking as you started to jog out of the office in your pajamas, looking like shit.

“Y/N, wait!” Rossi said as the whole crew trailed you. “What’s going on?”

“He’s been released!” you shouted happily as you threw your arms around Rossi.

“I’m coming with you,” JJ said and Garcia joined her.

They let you drive and finally, after going in, telling them you were there for your husband, you waited a few minutes before they let you go back. You were so giddy and excited, all of the past grudges evaporated. You nearly ran to the room they escorted you to.

They opened the door to expose your husband looking ragged.

“Spence! You get to come home!” you nearly screamed as you ran to him, jumped in his arms, and wrapped your legs around his waist. You kissed him hard as he started to cry. Finally, someone else was doing the crying.

“Thank God you’re okay,” he breathed as he held you tightly to him. “I was so worried.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s just get you out of here.”

You tightly held his hand as they gave him his clothes back which was a suit and it looked amazing on him. You walked him out to Garcia who hugged him tightly.

“Let’s go get my mom,” he said.

You drove to the office, holding his hand, and relishing in his touch. You hadn’t had it in so long, it was starting to be hard to remember what he felt like. He stared at you the entire time, smiling, as JJ and Garcia sat in the back, giving you two space.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to see that video because I knew it would make me realize what I was missing, and I guess I couldn’t handle that.”

“I know...I know it had to be hard on you. I’m sorry for abandoning you. I should’ve never done that.”

“No, you should have. It made me realize what you were dealing with too. I was selfishly thinking of what I had to go through, but it didn’t dawn on me what you were being put through as well. It made me appreciate you so much more.”

“And...Diana? Are you upset?”

“I’m upset she’s missing, but if you’re asking if I blame you, no. I can’t possibly do that. You couldn’t help it.”

“But I let her in the house. Cassie’s dead...That’s on me,” you started, before tears began to fall.

“Hey,” he said, reaching over and wiping the tear off your cheek. “No, you had no idea who she was or what she was doing.”

“Thank you...I love you.”

“I love you too,” he quietly responded before kissing your hand.

------------

You made it back to the office where they filled him in on all the details and found a house in Southeast D.C. that Lindsey was working out of. Everyone set out to leave before Emily blocked Spencer.

“Spencer, I can’t let you go officially until you’re reinstated. But you can go back home…”

He understood and he took a step forward but stopped.

“Babe? You okay?” you questioned until you noticed the door was closed and your heart suddenly felt cold. “It’s...uh, it’s unlocked.”

“Of course,” Spence said as he went forward and you grabbed his hand, never wanting to be away from him.

JJ, you, and Spence went home, to see if he noticed anything unordinary. He immediately noticed a scrapbook on the coffee table.

“Y/N, did you open this?” he asked.

“No, why? What’s wrong? I just assumed Diana was flipping through it.”

“This picture was on a different page,” he stated. He flipped over the picture and XX - XY were on the back of it.

“Is that significant?” you questioned.

“Other than the obvious of male and female chromosomes. Lindsey’s way of telling me she’s with Scratch.”

A few minutes later, Spencer got a call and he put it on speaker.

“Reid, listen to me, it wasn’t Scratch,” Emily’s voice sounded through the phone.

“What?” he questioned.

“It was Cat Adams. She gave us a video. You have to go see her.”

“In prison?” you asked.

“Yes. She said she will tell you where your mother is.”

“I have to go,” he informed, already on the move before you grabbed his arm.

“Woah, slow down, cowboy. You want to walk right back into prison? You want to walk into a trap?”

“Y/N, I have to get my mom back,” he said.

“I know that but...I just got you back,” you retorted, your voice breaking as tears started to flow.

“And you’ll be with me. It’s a women's prison. Nothing bad will happen,” he promised before kissing your head.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? Cat? Your mom? Me?”

“Yes, I am sure,” he vowed.

“If you think you’re ready, I’m with you all the way.”

Emily informed you of your flight plans and JJ, you, and Spence took off. Emily asked that JJ be there as a neutral party. Before long, you were at the correctional facility.

#what are we gonna do #reid #reid fic #reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic

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