rabidwormswrites

[rabidwormswrites]

Part 2 of the addict Reid fix-it fic

Characters: Spencer Reid and reader

Word count: 1,3k

Warnings: reader is a former addict, drug use, needles, meltdown, addiction

Tags: reader works at the BAU, implied Lie To Me crossover (I love it don’t come for me), fix-it fic, hurt/comfort, autistic he/they Spencer, she/it Garcia, harm reduction, angst

Notes: so I was in a state at midnight last night- @tabalugax thank you for the motivation 🫶

Entering the apartment, you were greeted by pure darkness, a stark contrast to the hallway you’d just been in. When your eyes adjusted, you could tell that Spencer had been in a horrible place during the weekend. Chess pieces, cutlery, cups and bowls were strewn across every flat surface, an armchair was turned over, and there was a smell of sweat, stale air, and old food. Reid had curled up in the only relatively empty armchair, in front of which stood a small table with medical flasks and needles on top. It’s back was turned to the rest of the room, and instead pointed toward the curtain-draped window.

You stood still, simply looking around the room. You knew that a comment on the state of things could get you kicked out before you finished it, so you simply exhaled quietly and asked: “should I turn on the big light?”

“No.”

His voice was higher pitched than before and a sniffle escaped his throat, though he tried to cover it up with a cough.

“The small light then?”

You were met with movement from Spencer’s chair, which you took as a nod. You went over to a floor lamp in the nearest corner and clicked it, letting the faintly yellow light shine upon the whole mess; both the one on the floor, and the one sitting in the armchair, trying to stop crying.

You started picking up the chess pieces on the floor, doing it as quietly as possible so you wouldn’t annoy Spencer further. You tried to think of ways to distract them from the situation, to shift their attention to something nicer.

“Did Garcia tell you about the guinea pigs it bought?” You asked softly as you picked up the chess pieces and set them on the board in their starter position, only to quickly move them into a Ruy Lopez opening. You hoped Spencer might enjoy it after you left.

“Yeah,” came a quiet reply from the armchair.

“Did she tell you what she named them?”

“No we uh… we spoke before she’d named them.” Their voice was still shaky, but you could tell that the distraction was helping. Thankfully, Garcia had spammed you with pictures of the little creatures in various situations while you were on your last case, so you were prepared if Reid wanted to see them.

“Rose and Jackie. You know, doctor who companions,” you smiled. You picked up the flipped-over armchair and placed it by the chessboard, then grabbed all the used tableware and went to the kitchen with it.

“He never had a companion called Jackie,” Spencer said as you returned with a trash bag and a roll of paper, picking up the used needles and wrapping them before throwing them out.

“I think it’s supposed to be Jack Harkness but genderbent.” You shrugged and picked up garbage on the floor.

“Ah. Right,” they muttered, resting their head on their knees as they watched you, “you can go, you know. You probably have plans.”

You stopped in your tracks and looked over at them, then placed the bag down. Seeing Reid not doing very well, you’d explicitly freed up the whole day to be here.

“I don’t have any plans. I know you probably want me to go but you can’t keep this up for much longer without Hotch having to do something about it.” You went over and sat down in the empty armchair. His back was still turned against you, but you could tell that he started shaking.

“He… Hotch knows?” They looked over at you, panicked, “do they all know?” They let out a pained sob before fully disappearing into the armchair. You swiftly got up and went to sit in front of his curled up body.

“Spencer, I’m sorry but… yeah. Penny might not but the others do,” you whispered. You gently tried to take his hand but he pulled away, pushing himself further into the chair.

“Fuck!” He cried, pulling at his face and hair, “no! Nobody was supposed to know, no one was supposed to know, no one was supposed to know…” his voice slowly trailed off as he started rocking back and forth, tears running down his face.

“Hey hey hey, stay with me, Spencer, stay here, stay here, okay?” You placed your hands on his shins, then moved up to his knees when he didn’t react, “Spencer, look at my hands, yeah? Look at my hands please.”

Spencer, though still hyperventilating and rocking, looked at your hands.

“Good, you’re doing well. Can you tell me which fingers I’m moving?” You asked, wiggling your pinkies and your left index.

“Pinkies and uhm, and your left pointer.”

“Good, good. And how about now?” You asked and wiggled your right thumb, right ring finger and left pointer. You slowly eyed the table with the remaining flasks and clean needles, trying to estimate if he’d need any more.

“Thumb and ring and left pointer,” they muttered. Their breathing began to slow down and the rocking became less frantic.

“Great, you’re doing well. Have you reused any needles?”

“No.”

“Good. How much to do you take and how often?”

Spencer shook his head before burying his face in his knees.

“Hey, stay with me, you’re doing well. How much do you take and how often?” You asked, tilting your head and staring intently at them.

“I… around 4 milligrams every… I don’t know, I think four hours? I don’t know, I don’t know…” Their voice reverted back into the sobbing.

You sighed and nodded, slowly standing up, still with your hands on his knees.

“Can you get up so I can give you a hug? I know the compression can be nice when… I know it can be nice.”

You smiled softly at the curled up ball beneath you who slowly unfolded and stood on his knees on the armchair in front of you. They only reached to your chest when they stood like this. You softly brushed away the sweat-drenched hair on his forehead before wrapping your arms around his body. You could feel him give up as his body’s cramped state softened and he sobbed into your chest, shoulders shaking. You placed your cheek on the top of his head while you ran your hands up and down his back.

“I’ve been sober for 3 years,” you said quietly. You weren’t sure if they could hear you, but you felt like you had to tell them regardless.

“My last job was… a bit too chill about what their workers did off the clock. It got bad, worse than this, before anybody noticed. Or at least before they took action. My coworker Eli found me kind of how I found you.” You thought back to it. While Spencer hadn’t been ‘nice’ about you showing up, he hadn’t been totally horrible either. Not the way you had been at least.

“I didn’t treat him very well. He got quite a colourful greeting.” Their breathing was slowing and you thought he might be listening. You knew how much hearing other people tell their stories had helped you, and you thought it might help Reid the same.

“He took a whole week off to cold-turkey me. He knew I’d lose the job if he took me to rehab, so he lied and said we’d gotten each other sick. We hadn’t spoken all that much before then.”

You lifted your head and looked down at Spencer. He wasn’t crying anymore. You smiled, slightly pulling away.

“I’ll get you some more clean needles, okay? And some sanitising wipes. You don’t have any debt to anybody shady do you?”

They slowly shook their head.

“Good. I’ll leave you now, yeah? I’ll take the trash and return in a few hours with the things and a meal. You can shower in the meantime, or read a bit, it doesn’t matter much. How’s that sound?”

He nodded and rubbed the nearly dry tears off his face.

“I’m so sorry,” they whispered, their lip quivering as if they were about to start crying again.

“Hey,” you grabbed his shoulders, “rest. Let me take care of you.” With that, you ushered him to the nearest armchair, then grabbed the garbage bag and left the apartment.

[rabidwormswrites]

Part 2 is here :O

Characters: Spencer Reid and reader 🫵

Word count: 1k if you squint

Warnings: reader is a former addict, drugs, drug use, addiction, the whole shabang, the Hankel case

Tags: reader works at the BAU, hurt/comfort, harm reduction, drug use, fix it fic (because I fucking HATE that none of the others did anything), autistic he/they Spencer, she/it Garcia

Summary: Spencer has been calling in sick a lot lately. You go to check and find that he’s not the kind of sick you thought.

Notes: @missmitchieg this is for you for giving me the confidence by telling me to do it myself on the ‘let Reid be strange’ post on my main, uhh a beginning to some more maybe, I’ve given up on formatting take it or leave it (please take it I really like this one), I love Garcia and I love Spencer

The clicking of keyboard keys could be heard all the way into the hall, despite Garcia trying to soundproof her room multiple times so as to not annoy anyone. You grabbed the handle and slowly cracked the door open.

“Garcia..?” You asked gently, then flinched when you were met with a loud crash and a screech.

“Oh my sweet golly goodness, you scared the crap out of me! Didn’t your parents teach you not to sneak up on beautiful ladies?!” Garcia yelled as you made your way into it’s room and began picking up the pens and the cup that she’d pushed off her desk when she jumped up.

“Yeah sorry, I’ll write them a letter saying they did a bad job raising me,” you chuckled. She sighed dramatically and sat back down, patting your head.

“Oh don’t even think about it, I’ll smack you.”

You stood back up and leaned over the back of her chair, staring at the kitten pictures on her many screens.

“I actually came to ask you for a favor,” you said, smiling apologetically down at her. You knew the case you’d just finished had been hard on it, and you felt bad that you had to bother it while she was trying to get back to her usual cheery self.

“As long as it doesn’t involve creeps and/or anything that isn’t cute and fluffy, the queen is at your service,” she said and swiftly rolled it’s chair closer to her desk, causing you to stumble a little.

“Think I can do that. I just need Spencer’s address.”

“Oh that is cute. But a little creepy. Why do you need it?” It looked suspiciously at you.

“I just wanna stop by and check on him. I didn’t feel like jumping him while at work,” you said with a slight shrug.

“Smart choice, cute creep. And it's good you’re doing that, you’ll update me when you’re done, right? He’s been… off, ever since that Hankel guy. He even called in sick today. People don’t get sick on Mondays, they get hangovers, and Reid’s not a drinking guy.” It was typing away on the closest keyboard while she spoke, and soon picked up a pink notepad and a glitter pen.

“Of course I’ll update you, my Queen.” You smiled and bowed while she handed you the note she’d written and lightly smacked your shoulder.

“Oh you flatter me, my fine friend. Now go! Go check on our Einstein junior!” It got up and quickly ushered you out of it’s office.

“Actually Spencer is much smar-“ you began, but was interrupted by Garcia.

“Don’t wanna hear it! Go!” She pointed sternly at you before closing the door, leaving you standing alone in the hallway with your pink stickynote.

Soon, you stood in front of Spencer’s light brown front door, eyes flickering between your raised hand and the note you’d gotten from Garcia. You were certain that you were at the right address, but still you felt a bit silly standing there, trying to muster up the courage to knock. What if Reid was actually fine? Or he wasn’t home? Or worst of all: what if they wouldn’t let you in?

Finally, you knocked. After a few knocks, a violent scrambling ensued from within Spencer’s apartment, and you could hear their voice, though it was too muffled to make out the words. However, it quickly got louder and the door was cracked open, though the inside chain lock was still on.

“-told you I’d call, don’t-“ Reid said, but trailed off when he saw you standing in front of him. He was wearing a brown checkered bathrobe.

You both stood in silence for a while, staring at each other, waiting for the other to say something. Finally, you broke the silence.

“I uhm, I just wanted to stop by and say hello, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet and awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. Spencer tilted their head and kept staring.

“Why are you here?” They finally said. His brows furrowed and he stepped back slightly, still leaving the lock on. You looked back at him, and now that you were trying to figure out his expression, you could tell that something was wrong. The young man’s pupils were much smaller than they were supposed to be in the dim hallway, his hair was greasy, and he had dark bags under his eyes.

“Spencer, are you high?”

Suddenly, it all made sense. The spike in sickdays, the withdrawn behaviour, and the snappy attitude. Reid looked down and tightly gripped their left underarm, then shook their head.

“Leave me alone,” he muttered and quickly closed the door. You stood outside the apartment in silent shock, then made your hand a fist and aggressively started knocking. You knew that Spencer most likely had a massive headache, and that the loud pounding would make it worse. You continued knocking until the door was ripped open again, still with the chainlock on.

“I told you to go away and you try to break down my front door?!” He yelled, wincing at his own volume.

“Open the door and let me in.”

“This is incredibly unprofessional behaviour.”

“And you calling in sick to continue your bender isn’t?”

Reid stared at you with disgust. Their lower lip quivered in anger.

“How did you get my address?” He finally asked.

“Garcia gave it to me. She’s worried about you.” Your voice softened, and you slowly stepped closer.

“Let me in. I won’t take your drugs, at most I’ll help you clean up a little. At least it's not one of the others.”

Spencer let out a grunt, then closed the door. There was a metallic rattling, and when it opened again, the chain lock was off and you were finally let in.

[rabidwormswrites]

Oh my good this place is dead and buried, anyway I’ll probably give up the aesthetic thing because it actually haunts me and I may get back into writing a little so uh yeah

[rabidwormswrites]

Might get silly and write a hannigram/merlin au

[rabidwormswrites]

Well aware that I begged and I very much appreciate the people who requested! They’re lovely and in the making, however Hannibal has consumed me so it’ll probably be a little while

On my knees begging for Spencer reid fic requests I’ll write anything

[rabidwormswrites]

Request rules

☆ please no smut, I’m a minor ☹️

[rabidwormswrites]

I can’t be what you need

Dean and Sam Winchester

Word count; 872

Warnings; light whump, hurt/little to no comfort, descriptions of blood, descriptions of wounds, dead character mentioned, demon blood addiction referenced.

Summary; after a specially rough few weeks, Dean finds Sam curled up in their motel bathroom, sobbing.

Notes; it’s 1am and it isn’t edited lol, I had to get it out of my system. Also first published fanfic so be nice augh I’m terrified.

“Sammy!”

Dean called out as soon as he walked into the motel room. He was carrying two large fast food bags, and had managed to open the door with one of his feet. He placed the bags on the table, then opened one of them and pulled out a burger, which he quickly started eating.

“Sammy?” He called out again, this time with his mouth full. When Sam still didn’t respond, Deans hand slowly crept down to the handgun in his pants, quietly cocking it and keeping one finger on the trigger as he went around the room.

“Sam?!”

He ripped open the closet door and pointed the gun at the empty space. He was more confused than anything else; there were no signs of demons, and they hadn’t even started looking into a new case. Soon, though, he could hear a faint sobbing coming from the bathroom. Dean placed his burger on the table and quickly made his way to the bathroom, pulling the door open and wildly pointing his gun around. However, there was nobody to shoot at.

Sam was slumped against the tiled wall in the shower, covered in blood. A kitchen knife lay beside him, and deep gashes ran along both of his underarms. His hands were trembling. The lower half of his face was covered in dark red, getting mixed with the tears as he stared blankly at the cuts on his arms. Dean decocked his gun and threw it into the living room, rushing down towards Sam.

“Who did this to you?! I swear to god I’ll murder that son of a bitch,” he muttered while quickly gathering the nearest clean towels. He wrapped them around his brothers underarms and, to the best of his ability, applied pressure to both of them.

“I- I just- I thought maybe I could-“ Sam stuttered in between sobs and sniffles.

“What, you did this?!”

“Dean, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just thought I could- that I- everything has been going wrong and I just needed- I’m really sorry, I’m sorry.”

Dean stared at his bloodshot eyes, then glanced at the knife. He swiftly kicked it away with his foot. Sam buried his face in the towels.

“Hey, hey, Sam, Sammy look at me, look,” he said, gently grabbing his face and forcing their eyes to meet, “you’ll be just fine, Sammy, I promise, we’ll patch you right up.”

His voice quavered and his eyes were watering, but he tried to keep it together. Sam didn’t need more to worry about. They couldn’t keep this going for much longer, he was going to bleed out if they didn’t somehow close the wounds.

“Cas, I need you to get your feathery ass down here,” he hissed. His gaze left Sam’s as he instead looked up at the motel ceiling.

“I need you to fix him, I need you to fix Sam, I can’t do it quickly enough.”

He felt a pressure on his hands and looked back down, where his brother had slumped forward.

“No no no, Sam, you’re not supposed to go like this.”

He grabbed his head and held it up, gently patting his cheeks.

“Rise and shine, come on, I know you’re tired, Sammy, but Cas is on the way, I promise.” He felt the burning as the tears began to stream down his face. Sam’s eyes opened slightly.

“Jess,” he mumbled, wearily shaking his head, “I want Jess, could you- Dean, where is she? Can you get her?”

Dean felt the colour drain from his face. He quickly nodded.

“Of course, Sammy, she’ll be right here, just stay awake.”

He sniffled, then coughed to try and cover it up.

“Damn it, Cas, where are you?”

“Dean.”

The monotone voice of the angel was like music to his ears.

“Jesus, what took you so long?!”

He stood up and pointed down at the blood covered Sam on the floor.

“Use your angel mojo and fix him!”

Cas’ crystal blue eyes met his before he bowed down and unwrapped the now soaked towels around Sam’s arms. Dean looked away when the familiar bright light emerged from the wounds, something he’d seen too often when Cas had healed them in the past. He felt useless, completely and utterly useless.

“He lost a lot of blood,” Cas finally said as he stood back up, again looking at Dean.

“What, you think I’m blind?! You think I can’t see that?!” He gestured wildly at the big pool of blood they were standing in.

“Help him into bed. Let him rest. I will clean this up,” was all Cas responded with. Dean took a deep, shaky breath, then pulled up his brother and dragged him to the nearest motel bed.

“Jess?” He mumbled when his head finally met the pillow.

“Uhm…”

Dean had no idea what to say. The tears were still streaming down his face. He carefully moved Sam over and crawled into the bed with him.

“She’ll be right here, Sammy. But I’m here for now.”

Sam sighed and turned over, leaving Dean to face his back. Dean moved up into the bed a little and started caressing Sam’s head.

“She’ll be here in a minute, I promise Sammy. I promise.”

[rabidwormswrites]

On my knees begging for Spencer reid fic requests I’ll write anything

[rabidwormswrites]

Small things brewing

Unfortunately I can only enjoy fanfics of my least favourite blorbos bc I get too specific about my favourites

[rabidwormswrites]

Do cats feel love? Do I?

11:38 am

The monotonous thunk-shh thunk-shh of the dishwasher is calming, almost hypnotising.

It’s doing what it has always been doing, what it always will be doing, and, as of now, it is doing it well.

Maybe in the future it will break, something inside will come lose and suddenly the dishwasher that did it’s job oh-so-well will leave spots of old food and greasy residues upon the things it was supposed to clean.

I just made a warm pot of tea.

12:17 am

My eyes drift across the text, page for page, as the dishwasher continues.

It has moved on now to a new sound, a simple shhh along with a mechanical hum.

The words blur in my mind, moments after I’ve read them, and form abstract pictures, patterns, thoughts.

The waves of the ocean, the wind blowing through the trees, a parent comforting their child.

All go shhh but only the dishwasher makes the mechanical hum.

I am halfway through my pot of tea.

It is lukewarm now.

12:44 am

The dishwasher has stopped. There is no longer a thunk-shh, no shhh, and no mechanical hum.

I am no longer reading.

My cat jumps onto my lap. She doesn’t come bearing gifts this time. She hums, though it is not the same as the mechanical hum of the dishwasher.

Some people say that cats don’t love their owners.

I don’t believe that.

If not for love, why else would she bring dead mice for me, and bring me her toys when she wants to play, and jump onto my lap or my chest and knit me until she falls asleep.

I have forgotten my pot of tea.

It is still lukewarm.

01:23 am

She was removed from her mother too early and left at a barn. She has a fear of abandonment.

Whenever I walk my dog she follows, and if I leave her sight for too long she sits and calls and waits for me to come back and get her.

She is afraid to go outside alone for too long, checking in every hour or so that I am still there, and that I still love her.

I gently kiss her forehead, she lets out a mree as she wakes and licks my nose. Her tongue is as rough as sandpaper.

I pick her up and bring her to my bed, tucking us both in. She is still humming the not-the-same-mechanical-hum-as-

the-dishwasher hum when I fall asleep.

The tea has gone cold now,

alone and forgotten.

[rabidwormswrites]

When I see you,

your eyes, your smile,

I think

“I love you.

“I love you I love you I love you.”

And though you don’t know it,

and I’m sorry that you don’t,

I hope you, too, think

“I love you.”

Just once,

when you see me.

[rabidwormswrites]

Who I write for;

☆ Supernatural;

Dean Winchester.

☆ Criminal minds;

Spencer Reid.

Penelope Garcia.

Possibly others if requested

☆ BBC Merlin;

Arthur Pendragon.

Merlin.

Sir Gwaine.

☆ Lie to me;

Eli Loker.

☆ Bones;

Jack Hodgins.

Zack Addy.

Sweets.

[rabidwormswrites]

Tags;

☆ all me; steven

☆ navigation; map & compass

☆ asks; sweet talk

☆ all fanfiction, excl. reqs; fanfic

☆ fanfiction reqs; fanfic reqs

☆ poetry; a poet at heart

☆ poetry reqs; for you, my love

[rabidwormswrites]

And we both say that we will concentrate but…

…in this moment together I have never felt so far away

☆ .˚⊹ Basic info: go to my main blog @rabidwordjumbles.

☆ .˚⊹ Faves: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Merlin, Dean Winchester, Sherlock Holmes, Will Graham, Greg House, Eli Loker.

☆ request rules.

☆ who I write for.

☆ what I write.

☆ tags.