eddie x reader who has self harm scars?Like reader is insecure because of them and Eddie is there for reader
obvious tw for self harm, be safe and don't read if this is gonna be triggering!! (reader is fem, i hope that's okay)
Your hands shook, running over the nine white lines that marked the skin right above your knee. You pressed your fist to your forehead, exhaling shakily as an unwelcome tear slipped its way down your cheek. The marks were old, but they hadn't gone away, and each accidental glance at them brought back a wave of unwelcome memories. You curled your legs into your chest and buried your face in your knees, waiting for Eddie to come back and distract you from your thoughts.
"Hey, Bubbles, I'm back!" Eddie jogged into the room, stopping suddenly when he saw your curled up position. "(Y/N/N)?" His grin slipped into a look of concern as he ran over to you. "(Y/N), baby, are you okay?"
You looked up at him, face slick with tears. "I-I-I - " You couldn't find your voice. You shoved out your leg, shakily pointing at the scars.
"Oh," he said softly, gently running his fingers over the indentations. "Honey, when are these from?"
"January," you whispered. "I know they're old but when I look at them I just - " You swallowed, shaking your head.
"I know." Eddie pulled you into his chest, stroking your hair. "I know, baby, I know." He kissed your head. "Hey." He pulled away, tilting your head up. "You know something? I have some too." He pulled up his sleeve and showed you the white lines marking his own pale wrist. "And I know how hard it is to look at them. But you know what? They're a sign. They're a sign of how far you've come, and how strong you've gotten, because even though you were once in such a low place you felt you had to do that, you're still here, and you're still thriving. I'm proud of you, (Y/N/N), I'm so, so proud of you."
You let out a sob and buried your face in his neck. "I love you," you whispered.
"I love you too, strong girl. I love you so much."
Summary: Kissing over burnt coffee and film festival plans is never romantic. Unless it is.
Note: Ahh!! I hope you all like this one!! Let me know what you thought :)
—
The break room coffee is notoriously either burnt or weak, and on the rare occasion it’s both too weak and too burnt. Spencer, who’s main sure of energy is derived from coffee and crosswords, pretends he doesn’t taste it. He pours the coffee into his mug before he throws in a ton of sugar on top. Spencer wonders, as he stirs in the sweetness, if it’s actually the ritual of getting the coffee that gives him energy more than the caffeinated properties in the coffee. Whatever it is, Spencer’s grateful for the hot beverage.
He brings the coffee to his lips, noting that today’s batch isn’t particularly burnt tasting. It just may be the unhealthy amount of sugar he poured in though.
"How's your day going, Doctor Reid?" you say, walking up to the counter where Spencer fixes his coffee. He feels his face heat at the teasing in your voice.
"Y/N," Spencer says, sounding more nervous than he would like, "My day has gotten better now that I get to see you again,"
Spencer sips his coffee, looking at you over the rim. You smirk, looking like you know something that he doesn't, which is something that he's not used to.
"What are you doing tonight?" you ask, reaching purposely across Spencer so your arm brushes against his chest. Spencer feels his heart swell at your closeness. Smelling your shampoo, he wonders to himself if he could figure out the sweet-smelling scent just by smell. If he could, he'd buy out entire shelves so you could always smell as beautiful as you look.
"Oh, I don't know," Spencer says, drumming his fingers on the counter. You pour hot water into a travel mug that's bigger than your head. He figures that it's your third or maybe even fourth trip to the break room, but unlike him, you prefer tea to coffee. He can smell the peppermint tea on your breath. It's nothing short of intoxicating.
"Well, I heard that there's a Korean film festival downtown. It seems interesting,"
"Yeah. That does sound interesting," Spencer comments, not letting himself get too excited.
"It sure does. I don't know if I'll be going, though," you tell him, pulling two tickets to what Spencer can only assume is the festival, "Considering that I don't speak or understand Korean,"
"Did you know that there's a prototype these Smart Glasses that can produce a near instant translation of a variety of languages. It's quite fascinating. I can email you the literature if you're interested,"
"Hmm," you say, stirring in a packet of Splenda into your tea, "That is interesting, Spence,"
He can't help, but smile at the sound of his nickname on your lips. He loves the way it sounds. It makes him feel warm and safe and cared for inside.
"I'll forward it to you at lunch," he says, hardly containing his excitement, "Too bad those tickets will go to waste,"
"Maybe not," you say, "Do you know someone who can understand Korean, who'd like the tickets?"
"I mean, I would," Spencer says, his eyes scanning your face to figure out the secrets you're hiding behind your face, "I-I would take yo-them,"
"Hmm, yeah, you do speak Korean," you muse, "What don't you know, Doctor Reid," you say, fiddling with Spencer's tie. It takes him right back to a couple nights ago, when you purposely didn't kiss him in his car. You played with his tie, the purple one with gray polka dots, and Spencer was pretty sure you wanted to kiss him.
"We could go together," Spencer asks, downing the rest of his coffee in one sip, "You know, as a date,"
"Are you asking me out on a second date?" you charm, the ease in your voice making Spencer's heart pang with jealousy and excitement.
He nods.
"Well," you say, stepping closer to Spencer with your fingers still fiddling with his tie, "Do you know what the second date means?"
"Umm," Spencer murmurs. He scratches his head in uncertainty. You're standing so close, so close that Spencer can see that your eyes reflect the horrible light in the break room. You're so close that Spencer can smell the peppermint tea on your breath. You're so close that Spencer's pretty sure you can tell just how fast his heart is beating, "I dunno,"
"You could, I don't know, whisper translate the movie into my ear," you start, "And maybe a piece of my hair falls across my eye, tickling my cheek. You could push it behind my ear. And then, Spencer, maybe because we're just so close you'd need to kiss me. And we'd close our eyes at the same time. And it's like we're pull by an invisible string and you'd just kiss me,"
Spencer's head would probably explode if you continued. The entire break room would be covered in bloody gray brain matter. If it wasn't such a terrifying threat, Spencer would find himself giddy with excitement. He doesn't trust his voice, not yet, so he nods.
"Or maybe," you whisper, taking a glance towards the door, "We can just pretend that this is date two and you could kiss me right here,"
"Right now?"
"Only if you want, Spence. Only if you want," you tell him, looking at him as the cogs in his brain turn and turn.
"Okay," Spencer whispers softly, "I want to. I want to kiss me. No! No, I mean I want to kiss you,"
"You're cute, Spencer," you tell him, your wide smiling making him actually believe that you believe it, "And I'm very excited to kiss you,"
You push back a strand of Spencer's hair that's fallen across his eyesight. His eyes squint into a smile that you can't wait to pepper with kisses. Kisses that are wet and eager, kisses that are sweet and gentle, kisses that are kind and soft.
You tug him close by his tie, making him whimper into the kiss, something to make a mental note to do again and again.
Your lips are soft and supple. He's thoroughly unkissed; there's not much to compare to this kiss, yet he thinks it will be his favorite. When you kiss him, Spencer swears he feels the entire world go silent. The constant hum of thinking that plays on and on in his head, for once, is gone. All that remains is the feeling of your lips against his lips, your hand tugging his tie, your fingers knotting in his hair.
Spencer rests his hands against your waist, grabbing fistfuls of your cardigan. It's soft his hands and your fit against him like you were made to fit.
He could die this way. And die happy. Very very happy.
You break away from the kiss and rest your forehead against his forehead. He forgets that he's in a yellowing breakroom with awful coffee and his entire team just behind the thin doors. He forgets it all because you can make the mundane magical.
"That was nice," Spencer says, "I know it's probably really lame, but I almost want to say thank you?"
"Well, if you're thanking me, then I should be thanking you," you say, kissing his cheek quickly before stepping back to a professional distance. Spencer fixes his tie and pushes a couple strands of hair back behind his ears, "So tonight? We can walk out together and figure out dinner and stuff at the festival?"
fic summary: Going undercover as serial killer bait was simple. Going undercover as serial killer bait three months after being kidnapped was not so simple. Going undercover with the love of my life and having to pretend to be in love with him while also pretending I was pretending was….well it was about as complicated as it sounds.
chapter summary: I finally get my happily ever after. No catch.
chapter word count: 4.1k
content: Rated M (16+) fem!reader, mentions of past kidnapping, trauma responses, nightmares, descriptions of past kidnapping, canon-typical violence, fake relationship, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, only one bed trope
tw for this chapter: mentions of injuries/medical terms, descriptions of treatment for ptsd, therapy
Waking up in a hospital always disoriented me. No matter how many times it had happened, all the different stimuli overlapping didn’t piece together until my eyes were open and I could take in my surroundings. The loud, repetitive beeping, uncomfortable bed, soft hand on my own, pressure in my elbow, my other arm in a sling. My eyes opened and saw the white walls and thin curtain separating the room, and only then did it all click.
Timothy Clark had shot me. Spencer had saved my life. I looked down and saw him, asleep at my bedside. His hand was clasped over mine, and his other arm was resting on the side of my bed, supporting his sleeping head.
He looked so peaceful, calm. I couldn’t bring myself to disturb him. And I knew I needed a moment to myself, too. A lump formed in my throat as my mind drifted back to laying on the floor of the bedroom, feeling Spencer’s hands put pressure on my wound, watching his panicked face as he tried to keep me awake.
I took a sharp breath and felt hot tears pour down my face. My cries were silent, tears of fear and anxiety but most of all relief. Because I was here, and Spencer was with me, and we were okay. We were safe.
I turned my hand over and squeezed his fingers as much as I could. Even though it was weak, it appeared to be enough. He stirred slowly, and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. As soon as he could focus, he was sitting up straight and getting closer to me.
His hand gripped mine, and he pulled it to his lips to press a long kiss there. “You got shot in the clavicle, on the right side. I knew- statistically, it’s more likely to be survivable on the right side, there are less vital arteries there. But the subclavian artery is right there and if it ruptures you can bleed out in under two minutes and even though I put pressure on it the medics were three minutes out and-”
“Spencer.” I interrupted. He hadn’t looked me in the eye since he woke up, rambling to my good hand. When he finally looked up, his eyes were wet with unshed tears. I knew my own were still puffy from tears as well. “You’re alright. We’re safe.” I whispered.
“The bullet went just under the bone. It hit the subclavian vein. You were- it was a centimeter from killing you.” I could feel his guilt and I reached my hand up to his cheek.
“Spencer Reid, you saved my life. We’ll both need therapy after this-” that earned me a small chuckle - “but for now can we just be happy we’re together and alive?” I asked. “I just- I want to love you without anyone’s eyes on me.”
He leaned over and caught my lips in a soft kiss, my hand on his jaw steadying his head. After a moment he pulled back and rested his forehead against mine, our eyes still closed. “I love you so much,” he whispered. I took a deep breath and then let out an elated laugh, wincing when my chest shook.
My head fell back onto my pillow with a groan and Spencer immediately moved away. “Are you okay?”
“I’m so happy it hurts.” I joked, trying to laugh again but cutting off with a grimace. Spencer chuckled and shook his head, the first real smile I had managed to get out of him since waking up.
“I’m very happy too, but I’m glad it doesn’t hurt. You’ll get there soon.” He teased.
“Don’t rub it in.” I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t contain my grin.
After a brief moment of comfortable silence, he smiled again and looked towards the door. “The rest of the team is outside, if you want to see them.”
“How long was I out?” I finally asked, realizing I had no concept of what time or even day it was.
“You went into surgery five hours ago, came out two hours later, and were asleep for the past three hours and 14 minutes.” Spencer responded. “Not that I’ve been counting.” He was smiling but his cheeks still flushed, and my heart warmed at the thought of him being flustered by me. “It’s just past 1 in the morning.” He finally gave a precise time.
“Why is everyone still here?” I asked incredulously.
He just rolled his eyes. “Just because they only let one of us in the room doesn’t mean I was the only one worried. I just made it very clear that I would be in the room with you. I may have-uhm. Implied I was your husband to the nurse.” He blushed and looked down as he whispered the last part.
“We have spent the last week as husband and wife, so we must be pretty believable.” I smiled. “What does the team think?”
“I didn’t, well. I haven’t explicitly told them but they all saw how distressed I was. And they know I’ve been in here the whole time and haven’t questioned it.” Spencer admitted.
“So they know but you didn’t tell them?” I asked, still teasing.
“I haven’t left your side long enough.”
My face fell soft, eyes welling up thinking about how much this man loved me. And the truth was, he always had. This was how I had woken up after my kidnapping, but he hadn’t held my hand and he hadn’t kissed me and he hadn’t said he loved me because we were both too scared. But I knew - suddenly, it all caught up to me, how long he had loved me. And how long I had let my own fears blind me from that fact.
“I love you so much.” I said seriously. He blushed as he smiled.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing you say that.” He shook his head.
“Well get used to it. I’m never gonna stop.” It was so rewarding to see him get bashful.
“Do you want me to get everyone else or are you just going to keep teasing me?” He smiled as his thumb rubbed back and forth over the back of my hand.
“I guess I should probably say hello.” I caved. Spencer grinned and pressed his lips to the back of my hand before standing.
“I’ll be right back.” He promised and then slipped out the door.
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and letting my head rest fully back against my pillow. My right side was still aching, but not so much if I didn’t move. There were definitely painkillers running through my system to alleviate it slightly, and I was not looking forward to when they wore off. I closed my eyes and remembered the peace I felt before I blacked out.
The blood loss and shock and delirium probably had a lot to do with it, but I could feel that same sense of calm overtake me now. I knew it was impermanent, and I still needed to work through a lot of things to feel actually okay again. But right here, at this moment, I was okay.
When the door opened again, Emily was the first one through the door. She approached the bedside with a smile and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “Good job on not dying.” She said and I rolled my eyes with a smile.
“Thank you, it’s one of my greatest accomplishments.” I joked. JJ, Dave, Derek, and Hotch all came up and gave me hugs, saying they were glad to see me awake. Spencer stood in the back of the room and observed, but whenever I caught his eye he smiled at me.
Eventually everyone settled in casual conversation, sitting in the few chairs around my bed or standing behind one of them. Spencer had stepped out of the room for the first time, running to grab a cup of water. “So, how was it pretending to be in love with Pretty Boy?” Derek teased, nudging my hand. Emily raised her eyebrows from the other side of me.
“It was, well, uh-” I stammered. Spencer had made it seem like there was no way the team didn’t know, and now I didn’t know if I should say anything or not. “It went better than I would have ever expected.” I finally answered.
He slipped back in the room and found my eyes, as mine had sought him out immediately as well. We shared a small smile, and when I turned back Derek and Emily were observing me closely.
Derek narrowed his eyes and Emily smirked. “So I guess we won’t be needing that girl’s night?” she commented. I giggled and shook my head.
Derek looked between the two of us and then back at Spencer. When his gaze returned to mine, I watched the realization come over him.
“Did he finally tell you?” He asked incredulously.
“What?”
“I’ve been telling him for years to man up and say something!” Derek exclaimed with a laugh. My heart raced when he said that. I had realized my blindness earlier, but hearing his best friend confirm that he had been longing for me still made my heart warm.
There was a hint of bitterness there too, reminding me how much time I wasted, but I couldn’t dwell on that. There was no going back, only forward. And forward was going to be amazing.
“I wouldn’t say that’s quite how it went down, but yes.” I finally confirmed.
“Pretty Boy!” Derek called across the room. Everyone turned to look at him. “Proud of you for finally making a move!” He said, shimmying his shoulders in what was supposed to be a seductive move. Spencer’s face went cherry red in a split second, and I let out a groan in mock annoyance.
“Leave him alone, Derek.” I smacked him on the arm with my good hand. “I took just as long.”
“Wait? You guys are actually together?” JJ asked.
“I thought you guys would’ve worked that out from my reaction to her getting shot.” Spencer admitted, confused by the semi surprised faces the team wore.
Everyone broke out into laughter, much to both of our confusion. “Spence, you react that way anytime she gets so much of a scratch.” JJ clarified through giggles. “We had no reason to believe anything had changed.”
I blushed and looked down at my lap. It was true that he had always reacted strongly when I got hurt. There was one time the paramedics told me I had a minor concussion and was free to go as long as I rested, and Spencer tried to argue that I needed to be taken to the hospital anyway. Or when I sprained my wrist ice skating and he did my paperwork for a week. Or even my kidnapping, I had heard how distressed he was from the team in the weeks after. He told me himself that he didn’t trust himself to interrogate the man involved.
Spencer cleared his throat and I focused back on him. “Either way, yes. We are, uhm. Together.” His awkwardness made me smile.
“It’s hard to pretend to be in love with someone while pretending you don’t love them.” I admitted with a laugh small enough my chest didn’t hurt too badly.
“When did it happen?” Emily asked.
“It took us all damn week. Three days ago he-” I cut myself off, not wanting to reveal the existence of my letter. It was only ever meant for Spencer. “Well, I thought I had been way too obvious and started acting weird. Spencer pushed me but I didn’t admit why until last night, so that’s when we really made it official. Told each other how we really feel.” I glanced at Spencer to see him with a small grin on his face, trying to hide it behind his cup. My cheeks flushed and I bit down on my bottom lip to try and contain my lovesick grin.
Everyone in the room groaned, except for Hotch who let a small smile grace his face. “I told you guys there was no way it’d be that fast.” He stated.
Spencer and I shared confused glances.
“We’ve had a bet going for a while, but we all knew you guys would break this week. We made bets on what day you’d make it to.” Derek explained. “I really thought it would only take a day or so.”
“You underestimate the depths of my obliviousness.” I joked.
“I was exactly correct, by the way. Just got $100 richer,” Hotch bragged.
“A hundred?! Was Penny in on this too?” I exclaimed. Spencer and I both had shock written on our faces. I was highly amused by the team’s antics, despite being surprised how many people participated.
“She started it!” JJ said. “She bet it would only take a kiss.”
“Ever the romantic.” I rolled my eyes. Spencer was giggling into his water.
His eyes looked up full of mirth. “So what was everyone else’s guess?”
“I thought you guys would come out the other end more confused, JJ said halfway through the week, and Emily had night 5.” Dave explained. I tilted my head at Emily in a question.
“I thought you would make it a few days before caving and telling him.”
Emily admitted. I shook my head in fake disapproval.
“You could’ve shared that theory with me.” I teased.
Before anyone could comment further, my nurse came in. “Sorry to break up the party, visiting hours have been over, and I have to administer some medication to [Y/N] anyway. I’m officially kicking you out.” She explained with a smile. I was grateful they had made an exception for them to stay at all.
I had noticed the dull ache in my shoulder had increased to more of a throbbing pain, but had mostly been able to ignore it due to the team’s presence. Now that I was focusing on it again I noticed my breath was a bit more labored already, my hands clenched in the sheets and I hadn’t even realized. Everyone said their goodbyes and gave me well wishes before leaving to get some rest.
Spencer stayed behind, taking back his seat on my left side after the nurse left. I was healing up nicely, and would be on antibiotics, but after being observed for the night I would be free to go. The jet would be waiting for us whenever I was discharged.
“You should go to the hotel, get some rest,” I pushed, feeling my eyelids start to droop. They had given me a heavier pain medication for the night, and it was already making me drowsy.
“No way I’ll be able to sleep without you there.”
“What about your back?” I whispered, looking at him softly. He smiled and reached a hand out for my cheek.
“I’ll be fine, really. I just want to be here with you. Make sure you’re safe.”
“Safe.” I repeated, nodding my head. “We’re safe.”
“Get some rest. I love you.”
I just kept nodding, too tired to respond, but my last thought before succumbing to the pull of sleep was I love you too.
~~~~
Four Years Later
Spencer stared down at the piece of paper I was holding in front of us. My teeth dug into my lip, trying to keep it from wobbling.
“You don’t have to do this.” Spencer reminded me. I looked up at him but his face was blurred from my tears.
“You and Julie are right. It’s time. I’m never going to move on while I’m still holding on to it. I’m never going to remember that I’m not on borrowed time.” I said with conviction, surprised by the strength in my voice despite the turmoil I felt.
My letter had been a comfort item for a long time. Even after Spencer and I were together, I held onto it, keeping it near me at all times. It took a year in therapy to get me to leave it in my bedside table on days in the office. Another few months before I was really comfortable leaving it when we went on cases.
Having Spencer there helped, of course, but I had become so used to holding onto it and protecting it that I felt naked without it. It took a lot of talking through my trauma to realize it was tied to feeling safe that day - eventually Spencer rescued me, but for too long that letter was all I had.
There was the sentimental value as well. Once I had overcome my anxiety from being too far from it, I still didn’t want to get rid of it completely. Julie, my therapist, had been mentioning it off hand (and a few serious times) since I had successfully severed the comfort tie. But I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of the letter that had finally gotten Spencer and I together. I owed the letter my life in more ways than one.
Julie and Spencer both assured me that wasn’t true. Spencer and I would have found our way together, no matter what. It took everything in me to try and believe it. Because in my heart, I did. We were nothing short of soulmates. And that’s not to say we never fought, or that it was smooth sailing all the time, but at the end of the day we knew we wanted to move forward together. No matter the work.
I let it slip recently that before he even found the letter, I was resolved to confess my feelings after our undercover stint. Spencer narrowed his eyes and took my hand seriously. “You know what that means, don’t you?” He whispered. I furrowed my eyebrows. “We would’ve gotten to love each other that week even if you never wrote the letter.”
We had been mostly reminiscing about our undercover relationship, when I had shared that. It was a happy conversation teasing our old selves for being silly. And when he brought it back to the letter, to my trauma, I lashed out.
“God can we have one conversation that doesn’t go back to that! I know I’m crazy for holding onto the letter, I know it’s stupid! Can I not just-” I cut myself off, ripping away from where his hand reached for mine. “I just want to keep it and I don’t know why that matters so much.”
Spencer pressed his lips together and I could see him holding back a snarky remark. I leaned back into the couch and pressed the heel of my hand into my eyes. “You aren’t crazy, and it’s not stupid, but I think you and I both know that the letter has more negative than positive emotions tied to it.”
I glared at him. “How would you know how I feel about it?”
“Because I see how you react when it comes up. Because I see the way your face hardens every morning when you see it in your drawer. Because I can hear you at night when you think I’m asleep, reading it and crying all over again.” I turned to look at him, angry at that secret being discovered. His soft gaze made it impossible to hold onto any bitterness. “Because I know as long as it’s here, you’re only going to be thinking about the day one of us leaves the other.”
He held my gaze and I fought the urge to look away. I wanted to still be upset, but he wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t deny that the presence of the letter made me think about my mortality every day. And maybe that could have been a good thing, a reminder to not take anything for granted. I tried to pretend it was. But all it did was make me hyper aware. Even on days I wasn’t feeling anxious, I had the lingering feeling that at any moment it could all go wrong.
On cases that feeling was unavoidable. But I felt it every day.
I pulled my legs up and leaned my side against the back of the couch. I wrapped my arms around my legs and looked away in embarrassment. Spencer’s hand reached out and wrapped around my ankle. “I just want you to know that you’re safe.”
“I always feel safe with you.” I replied immediately.
“I want you to feel safe with you.” He responded.
Oh.
“I don’t- I don’t know if I know what that looks like.” I admitted.
“That’s okay. We can find out together.”
“I think I need to talk to Julie,” I said with a small chuckle.
Spencer smiled. “Yea, Carrie will be hearing all about this as well.”
And then we moved on, joking about our therapists, and eventually turning on a documentary series Spencer had been looking forward too. That was almost a month ago, and I had in fact talked to Julie, and now I was sitting here with Spencer and the letter and trying to go through with what I knew I needed to.
There was a metal bowl on the bed and Spencer had a bucket of water on hand for safety purposes. We probably should have gone outside, but it was February and far too cold. I was kneeling in front of the bowl holding the letter. He sat behind me, one hand propping himself up and the other on my hip.
Finally I dropped the letter into the bowl. The paper was yellowing now, the creases crumbling on the edges. The ink on the outside was fading, the Dr. Spencer Reid barely legible. His chin nuzzled into my neck, and I felt his lips press under my ear. “You are the strongest person I know.” He whispered.
I took a shaky breath, trying to hold back my tears. Even though I knew this would be good on the other side, it hurt like hell right now.
Our kitchen lighter sat on the bed as well, and I picked it up, my hands shaking. I tried three times to light it, but it just clicked. I could feel myself getting frustrated, teeth gritting, as I tried harder.
Eventually Spencer’s hand reached up and covered my own, and in a flash the flame came out the end. “Thank you.” I whispered.
Light danced around the bowl as I lowered the flame towards the letter. After hovering for a second, I dropped it down and watched as the corner caught fire.
Spencer’s hand on my hips moved to wrap fully around my waist, pulling me slightly to relax back. My eyes were mesmerized with the paper turning to ash, watching the letter turn to dust. Julie had been right - this was far better than simply throwing it away. Watching it burn felt like I was actually releasing it. It almost felt like a thank you, for the comfort it brought me, to send it off in such beautiful reds and oranges.
When the light flickered out, and all that was left was a bowl of ash, I finally let myself cry. I turned to Spencer and buried my face in his neck and wept. He held me close and pressed soft kisses to my cheek and forehead and hair, and I could feel his own tears on his face. The wracking sobs calmed to pitiful sniffles, and that’s when he lifted a hand to my face and made me look at him.
“In many forms of literature, but perhaps most famously with the example of the Phoenix, fire is seen as a symbol for rebirth. It’s seen as something that can not only end cycles but begin new ones. I think it was incredibly fitting that you end that cycle and begin this new one like this.” He said. I couldn’t hold back my smile, and caught his lips in a loving kiss.
“Thank you for being with me.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
I shook my head and buried myself back into his chest. We laid there like that for a while, talking a bit but mostly just breathing together and accepting comfort. Eventually he urged me up and we cleaned the room, actually discarding the ashes and cleaning the bowl and putting it away. I cried again during the cleaning process, the final bookmark onto the existence of the letter.
When we laid in bed that night, only seeing the light of the moon in our window, I spoke in Spencer’s chest. “It’s really gone.”
“Mmmhmmm.” He replied. It sounded like he was already half asleep.
“I love you.” I whispered, nuzzling into him and shutting my eyes. His arm pulled me tight against him.
“Love you too.” He replied sleepily.
I smiled to myself, and let myself fall asleep. Here in his arms was the only place I needed to be.
fin.
<<<<>>>>
final author's note: wow. I can't believe it's over. I can't believe I did this. finishing this fic means so much to me, and having it all out here for you guys to love as well is everything to me. Thank you all so much for being along on this journey, and if you waited for this to be finished before reading thank you for getting to the end. For everyone who has commented, reblogged, liked, or left kudos, I appreciate every single one of you. this fic is a bit like my baby and I can't believe I'm finally sharing it with the world.
(at an undetermined point in the future I plan to put out a smut scene from this universe, so join my general taglist if you're over 18 to be tagged when I post that!)
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I will be trying to write as many holiday themed fics as possible over the course of December. This one is coming out the gates angsty, but the rest of my ideas are much fluffier I swear! Each fic will be named based off a Christmas song, this was named after "Mistletoe & Wine."
Summary: You’re a recovering addict and the holidays are the hardest time of year for you. So when you find yourself at an NA meeting on Christmas Eve with only one other participant, will you be able to rediscover the magic of Christmas and sobriety together?
Set around season 3.
CW: mentions of drug use (dilaudid and oxy), mentions of death of a loved one, car accidents, general angst with a fluffy ending.
WC: 2.9K
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Mistletoe & Magic
Hindsight was a wonderful thing, Spencer thought bitterly as he clawed at his bedsheets.
Staying home for the holidays had been just what he thought he’d needed. He was a recovering addict and although alcohol had never been his drug choice, being surrounded by it didn't seem like a smart idea.
So he’d declined Rossi’s invitation to spend Christmas with him. He’d also declined JJ’s and Morgan’s. He’d had a harder time declining Garcia’s given how persistent she was but eventually he’d gotten out of that too, thinking the best idea was to stay home out of temptations way.
Hindsight was a damn bitch.
He pulled at the seam on his bedsheets and watched as the stitches popped loose. He tried to focus on that and only that. But of course his brain had other ideas.
He’d been sober for two hundred and thirty five days, seven hours and, a quick glance at the clock told him, sixteen minutes. Not that he kept count. Not deliberately anyway.
But he knew no matter how long it had been, he would always be a slave to his addiction. He would always belong in a cabin in the woods, strapped to a chair while Tobias Hankel shot him up with dilaudid.
He’d escaped the cabin, he’d tried to tell himself. But why did it never feel like he really had escaped?
It was worse when he was alone, he should have known that. He should have gone to Rossi’s or JJ’s or Morgan’s or Garcia’s. He shouldn’t have been alone today.
He finished pulling apart the seam of his bedsheet and stared at his unintended destruction for a few seconds before he jumped up from the bed.
He started pacing the length of his bedroom, his fingers busily working on picking at the hem of his cardigan now.
Dilaudid would make this better. But it would also make everything worse.
Spencer couldn’t decide which was the preferable option.
***
A gust of wind slammed the door of the old building closed behind you, causing you to jump a little. The snow and wind had picked up over the last few hours and it was looking like the weather forecasts were right, you were due a storm.
If only you’d taken your mom up on her offer to spend the holidays in Florida with her you wouldn’t have to worry about something so trivial as a snow storm.
But honestly, the snow storm was the least of your concerns.
You hated Christmas. You hadn’t always, in fact it used to be your favourite holiday. There was always something you found so magical about the holidays.
Until two years ago on Christmas Eve when your car had been plowed by a truck at a red light. You’d had serious injuries but you’d survived.
The same couldn’t be said for your fiancé. He died on impact.
It wasn’t exactly surprising after such an event that you’d become hooked on the oxycodone the doctors had prescribed for you after the accident.
Your physical wounds may have healed long ago, but the emotional pain never ended. And you found oxy to be the only thing that helped get you out of bed most mornings.
You’d been sober for nearly four months. You moved states around a month ago, needing a completely clean break from all the memories Chicago held.
The magic you used to believe so strongly in had died that night too.
But now it was Christmas Eve once more and you were without your usual NA meeting and you weren’t doing good.
That’s how you ended up here. A quick google had told you there was a meeting here tonight. And only because finding a meeting was a lot easier than finding a drug dealer online, this was where you came.
But as you cast your eyes around the empty room, it was clear the impending weather had cancelled the meeting. And you didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.
This was just fantastic. You knew if you didn’t have this meeting, if you had no one to talk to about your cravings you were going to end up using tonight. Dealers weren’t hard to find when you knew what you were looking for.
I guess I can kiss four months of sobriety goodbye, you thought heading onto the small stage area, behind the podium to the back of the room to stare out the windows.
The snow was getting heavier, you would have a hard time making it back to your apartment. Would the snow deter the dealers that riddled the streets? God you hoped not.
You suddenly felt cold so you wrapped your arms around yourself as a tear slowly crept from your eye.
This was never supposed to happen. This was not what your life was supposed to be like.
Another few tears fell and you let out a shaky breath.
“I am Y/N Y/L/N and I’m a drug addict.”
You tightened your hold on yourself as the words came out of your mouth. Of course, it wasn’t the first time in the last four months you’d said that, but knowing you were inevitably going to fall off the wagon tonight made it harder to say.
You were startled to the point a small scream left your lips when you heard a noise behind you.
You spun around on your heels as the noise continued.
You hadn’t heard the door open but maybe that’s when you’d felt cold. You stared wide eyed at the man who was giving you a slow round of applause as he took tentative steps towards you.
“I am Spencer Reid. And I am also a drug addict.” He shrugged as he stopped clapping, coming to a stop just in front of the podium. “I guess we were the only two determined enough to brave the weather to come here.”
You let your arms drop to your sides and scuffed the toe of your shoe on the floor.
“I don’t know about determined. Desperate maybe.” You were very aware you’d been crying and you quickly used the sleeve of your sweatshirt to wipe your cheeks.
He held a hand out to help you down from the small stage area. And for some reason you took it.
He was much taller than you, you realised once you were on the same level. Very slim, almost painfully so and he had heavy dark circles around a pair of intense brown eyes.
His hair was a little on the longer side and looked as though it hadn’t seen a brush in a long time. His shirt was creased and the oversized cardigan he wore over it was frayed at the sleeves.
He had a brown satchel dangling from his shoulder which he clutched with one hand like his life depended on it.
“Do you want to sit?” He motioned to the array of chairs set out in a semi circle to face the podium.
“There’s no one here.” You raised an eyebrow at him.
“I’m here. And I assume by the fact that you’re here that you’re in need of a meeting too. Two can be a meeting.”
It couldn’t hurt, you supposed. But it was likely only going to work as a bandaid and you were sure as soon as you left you would be on an oxy hunt.
But it couldn’t hurt.
You slid down into one of the chairs and Spencer followed suit, leaving an empty chair between the two of you so as to not encroach on your personal space. Or maybe he didn’t want you in his.
Silence fell over the two of you for a while, all that could be heard was the occasional whistle of the wind outside.
Spencer had his satchel on his lap still holding it firmly and you had a pretty good idea why but you didn’t mention it.
After a few minutes of gnawing awkwardly on his bottom lip, Spencer exhaled louder than was strictly necessary.
“So,” he looked at you. “What’s your poison?”
“Oxy.” You shrugged. “You?”
“Dilaudid.”
“Wow.” You laughed dryly. “Hardcore.”
“I’ve always been an overachiever.” He chuckled and it seemed like a genuine laugh.
You knew how rare they were in your situation so you found yourself laughing too.
“How long have you been clean?” You asked him once the laughter between you had subsided.
“About eight months. You?”
“Four. Well kind of. Almost four months. More like three and a half but longer than three and half but not quite four. But you know, it’s easier to just say four. But then I’m getting ahead of myself right? Because what if I don’t make it four months and I’ve told people I’ve been sober for four months. Maybe I should count days but that seems a little depressing, you know? So kinda four months. Three and a half.” You rambled.
Spencer stared at you in slight amusement, finding it endearing that he wasn’t the only one that rambled in such a way.
“Sorry I asked.” He gave you a teasing smile.
You frowned a little, chewing on your bottom lip.
“Can I ask how you ended up here? You know, an addict?” You weren’t sure if it was far too personal. You didn’t exactly have a desire to share your story so you didn’t know why you asked.
Spencer sighed and ran one of his hands through his messy hair.
“I was kidnapped by a man with multiple personalities. One of them would beat me and the other would inject me with dilaudid.” He shrugged as though it was nothing.
Your frown deepened as you stared at him, trying to work out whether he was joking or not.
Either he had a really good poker face or he was telling the truth.
“Shit.” You said for lack of anything else to say. “That’s dark.”
Spencer started chuckling again and you were starting to find it a beautiful and comforting noise.
“Yeah, it’s pretty dark. The dilaudid was the only thing that stopped me thinking about what happened to me. It helped numb the pain, you know?”
Of course you knew. It was a coping mechanism. The way oxy was for you.
“You’re preaching to the choir, man.”
Spencer watched you for a moment. It was clear he wanted to ask what had led you here, but he was too polite to actually say it.
You looked away from him, out of the window at the snow, being transported back to the night two years ago.
“Two years ago today, I was on my way home from the store, you know, last minute Christmas shopping. I was driving, my fiancé David was in the passenger's seat. We were having both of our families over for Christmas dinner and we were stopped at a red light arguing over where we were going to sit his great uncle Paul because he got handsy when he drank. The truck came out of nowhere.”
A small tear rolled down your cheek and you refused to look back at Spencer.
“I remember the lights getting closer and closer until they almost blinded me. It collided with the passenger side of the car. David died instantly.”
You finally looked back at Spencer who was looking at you with his lips slightly parted but he wasn’t full on gawping.
“I sustained some pretty bad injuries and the doctors prescribed the oxy for the pain. I liked the way it numbed me. But I guess we can’t stay numb forever.”
Spencer clearly didn’t know how to respond to the bombshell he’d just had dropped on him by a stranger.
You pushed down your sadness and plastered on a smile.
“Let’s not make this awkward.” You laughed. “Tell me something about you that doesn’t pertain to you being an addict. Tell me about Spencer Reid.”
His features contorted into a frown of confusion as though no one had ever asked him such a thing.
He chewed his lip, fiddling with the strap of his bag.
“Uh…well…” he inhaled sharply. “I’m an FBI Agent. I work for the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”
“Ohhh a profiler. Intriguing.” You smirked, leaning forward a little in your seat.
“Please don’t ask me to profile you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. So what else is there to Spencer Reid?”
“Uh…I have three PhD’s, I enjoy chess and magic and I love Halloween.” He was blushing ever so slightly, obviously not used to talking about himself.
You couldn’t help but smile at his slightly dorky awkwardness.
You found the fact that he was interested in magic to be interesting because you felt like you were under some kind of spell.
It had to be magic to say the least how he’d managed to get you to relax around him when you were sure you’d been tense every minute of every day since your car accident.
He had a calming aura. You felt yourself at ease and dare you say, happy?
You didn’t realise you’d been staring at him until his face turned into a frown.
“What?”
“Nothing. Sorry.” You shook your head. “Please go on.”
And so he did.
As night crept into the early hours of the morning, the two of you talked openly and honestly about your lives, something you hadn’t done in a long time.
The cravings subsided. In fact, you forgot all about your earlier state of mind.
It was amazing the difference a few hours could make. Or maybe it was the difference certain people can make.
A little while after the sun had risen, Spencer clutched his bag and stood up.
“There’s something I need to do.” He chewed his lip. “Come with me?”
You nodded and stood without a word, following him to a side room at the back of the hall and into the bathroom.
When he opened a bathroom stall you frowned.
“Ok, getting a little weird now, Spencer.” You laughed awkwardly.
He turned back to you from where he stood in the doorway of the stall. Finally his hands moved from where they’d been clutching his bag and he opened it.
He fished inside for a moment and when he pulled his hand out you saw the three little glass bottles of what you assumed to be dilaudid sitting in his open palm.
“I brought these tonight. Almost took them too. And then on my way home the snow really picked up and I ducked in here for shelter. Guess it was pretty good luck it was an NA meeting, even if it was cancelled. If you hadn’t been here…” he swallowed and unscrewed the cap of each bottle in turn.
“I know, Spencer.” You nodded. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did I would have done the same.”
He gave you a small but genuine smile before turning his back on you and dumping the contents of the three bottles down the toilet before flushing.
He moved past you and tossed the bottles in the trash can.
“Can I buy you coffee? You know, to say thank you.”
You looked down at your watch. It was a little past six am. Somehow you’d spent all night talking to Spencer. And you couldn’t think of a better way to spend the time.
“Well I mean, it’s Christmas, so I’m not sure what will be open.” You chuckled. “But I only live a few blocks from here and I have very good coffee. Assuming you don’t have plans?”
Spencer practically beamed and nodded somewhat frantically, making you laugh.
As you headed back out of the bathroom together, he slid his hand in yours, entwining your fingers.
And for the first time in two years, it felt as though you were going to be ok.
As you headed for the door hand in hand, you glanced over at him with a smile.
He looked down at you with his own smile before squeezing your hand.
Yes, there was definitely something magical in the air, you were sure of it.
As you went to reach for the door, Spencer pulled you to a stop.
You looked back at him and he was pointing upwards.
You followed his finger up and a laugh escaped your lips as you saw what he was pointing at.
“Mistletoe. Of course.” You giggled slightly, a sound you probably hadn’t made in two years.
“It is indeed.” Spencer exhaled, his free hand now finding its place on your cheek. “What are we going to do about that?”
You shuffled closer to him, moving onto your tiptoes and wrapping one arm around his neck as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“Merry Christmas, Magic Man.” You whispered as your faces inched closer together.
“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” He replied equally as hushed and then his lips captured yours.
And in that small gesture, you started believing in magic again.
//tw for mentions of drug abuse, addiction, overdose, recovery; gonna be a bit of a long one//
~ reid knew that gideon, no matter how much he cared for him, would never do anything to help him. everything with frank was haunting his mind, and he was far too distracted to really notice how much reid was struggling, but gideon knew that he was using
~ after about 2 weeks from his abduction, he'd been using steadily every day, and hotch was the first member of the team to notice him slipping to the bathroom more than usual during the day.
~ that night after the rest of the team had left, hotch went to gideon and asked if reid had said anything about the abduction, to which gideon gave a noncommittal grunt of "he's stressed, he just died. cut the kid a break"
~ so hotch kept an eye out, off-handedly mentioned that he was there for reid if he ever needed anything
~ 3 weeks and 4 days after he spoke to gideon, he was woken up at 2 am to a frantic call from reid, saying hankel was in his house and was going to hurt his mom. he can't remember the last time he drove that fast, but when he got to reid's apartment he saw the other man shaking and crying on the floor of his bathroom, the tourniquet still tied around his arm and a near-empty bottle of dilaudid next to him. he immediately went into dad-hotch mode, got him a glass of water and just sat with him while he cried.
~ reid wrapped himself around hotch and sobbed, begging him not to report this to anyone because "you guys are my family, i can't lose you, you're all i have" and hotch just lets him, petting his hair and promising him that he won't say anything
~ from then on hotch became the person reid called if it ever got too bad, because he was the only one who he was certain wouldn't judge him. he knew the others would be more than willing to help, but it scared him to be so open with even hotch, let alone the entire team.
~ and hotch keeps his word, he never says anything outright to anyone else on the team. but he does mention to them, on a day reid called in sick, that he's struggling right now and they all need to be there for him. gideon knows, but he never speaks up.
~ penelope and derek were the first after hotch to step up and see what they could do. penelope was the one to finally realize he was using, and when she proposed the theory to derek it took everything in him not to go up and grip reid by the shoulders, shake some sense into him and beg for a way to help him get better, because he just couldn't stand seeing his best friend so hurt.
~ so instead of being overly dramatic about it, they decide that they'll invite him to their weekly movie night and snuggle up on penelope's couch and watch shitty comedies that derek rented from blockbuster until 1 am. spencer falls asleep between them and sleeps soundly for the first time in months, his hand still in the popcorn bowl.
~ after them was emily, who knew all too well what a drug-addled young man looked like. she saw traces of matthew in reid, and was determined to make sure that he didn't turn out the same, because this time she would do something.
~ she started to bring him coffee and danishes in the morning, knowing that he likely wasn't eating nearly as much as he should've been. it was more casual at first, only once a week or so saying "they made extra at the coffeeshop" and placing it on his desk before he could argue. but before long, they were eating breakfast together every morning, and some days even meeting up at a cafe or diner to talk about an obscure french novel they'd both read.
~ jj was the last one to notice something was off about reid, struggling with her own trauma from hankel. she was still blaming herself for him even getting taken, so despite her best efforts to look out for him she barely even noticed when he got bad. after hotch said something to them at the roundtable, she kept a closer eye out for him.
~ she wasn't even sure that she completely understood what was really going on with reid, she just knew that her friend was struggling and that she needed to help him in any way she could. so she started letting him ramble on whatever topic his brain focused on that day, and she did her best to try and understand what he was talking about. she even asked penelope to look up some of the science theories he was talking about so that she could talk about them with him too. seeing how he lit up when someone actually listened made her heart burst.
~ spencer had a feeling, deep down, that they all knew what was going on with him. he also knew that hotch never said anything, just that the people he worked with were incredibly talented profilers and no matter his best efforts to hide from them they'd always know what was going on with him.
~ in fact, hotch never said anything outright to him either, after that first night. but he'd come and stay with reid on the really bad nights, and was the one to set him up at NA meetings, to get him a sponsor. he never made a big deal out of anything, but spencer knew that he probably cared the most out of anyone else on the team
~ and once he got better, started the recovery process, he slowly repaid the team for their kindness. he started paying for breakfast with emily, and hosted movie nights at his house every few weeks. he even watched a soccer match with jj, since that was something she cared about. he never had to do anything for hotch, because he just knew that nothing would ever be enough to show his gratitude. but he'd watch jack so he and haley could go on date nights, and picked up extra paperwork at the office. and it was enough.
//god this one hurt but it needed to be done, idk why but the only way reids recovery makes sense is if the team knew but just kept it on the dl for him and helped him in small ways, ways to make sure he knew they cared//
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
