Socially // Spencer Reid

A/N — I could actually cry at this request it makes me so happy, as someone without a diagnosis I found it easier to write the girl that way too, sorry for anyone who isn’t a fan of that idea. I based this off what I would want to happen, so let me know what you think!

- Blue x

Requested: Yep! Thank you @serendiptious-esparza

Warnings: Social Anxiety, fear.

— Y/N’s POV —

Being scared of the world was terrifying, everything around me made me feel uncomfortable. What made it worse was that, for me, there was barely any way to make it better.

I matched every single symptom written down, created, imaginable - but I hadn’t been diagnosed, and that therefore meant that most people didn’t believe me.

‘You don’t have a diagnosis, it’s not real’ ‘you’re just shy’

It was things like that that really hit deep, hit a nerve and made it worse.

The thought of ordering food from someone, their eyes staring so hard at me, the thought of talking to someone I hadn’t met before, knowing it could go anyway - things like that stopped me from living my life.

But with Spencer, things were different.

Him being a profiler, he could tell straight away why I was shaking like a leaf after someone brushed against me on the train. He could tell immediately why I had a panic attack after ordering food on our first date.

He helped me with it all, he made me feel loved, cared for, happy again.

He calmed me down, helped me breathe. Spencer knew exactly what it was like to be scared of people including yourself, so he was like a prince when it came to saving me from the world around me.

“Are you sure you wanna do this? I want you to be comfortable.” He says, walking up to me in our shared kitchen, butterflies resting in my stomach now going crazy.

We had a reservation booked for our three year anniversary, and I had promised Spencer and myself that - this time - I would order my food myself. I didn’t want to lean on him, he had his life to live and I didn’t want to give him my problems too. I wanted to tackle my demons, make them dissipate again.

“Yes, Spence. I need to do this, I mean I might have a panic attack but it’s worth it. Don’t they always say that you need to live your life and try and tackle the anxiety?” I say, arms wrapping around his waist in an attempt to hide the image of my shaking hands.

I could feel my whole body shaking like a leaf. I couldn’t sit still, eithe my leg was bouncing or my finger was tapping. My heart felt like it was going and twelve times the speed, about to shoot out of my chest like a bullet. I was sweating like mad, feeling my cheeks take a lipstick red shade and little beads of sweat begin to build on my head.

That was just thinking about ordering.

“Well, statistically, 6.8% of the U.S. population suffers from social anxiety disorder, so there’s a few people like you out there. Meaning, you might not be alone in the restaurant, and you won’t be alone anyway because you have me. If you need to, I’ll order for you.” He smiles, his facts making me giggle.

He always had a way of using his smartness to make me smile, to make me laugh the fear away.

If I didn’t want to leave the house in the morning, then he would throw a fact about how good being outside is for me - he knew how to make sure I was ok and didn’t let it get to my head.

“That’s good to know, but I’ll be ok.” I reply, as we head out the door to face my fears.

— — — —

“Hello, my name is Martin and I will be serving you today. Could I get you any drinks to start off with?” The waiter asks politely, seeming like a really nice guy.

Even bought I knew Martin and Spencer wouldn’t laugh at me, or make me feel uncomfortable, my hands wouldn’t sit still.

My body was losing control of itself. I was sweating, shaking and breathing so heavily I felt light headed.

“I-um- can i have a-uh-a glass of wine please? Just th-uh-that one there.” I say, the words almost a whisper through the barrier of fear.

My finger points to the name as he scribbled down the words.

The drinks are ordered and arrive, and it’s me and Spencer - and I’m breathing. I’m surviving and facing my fears - I feel like superwoman.

“Hey, I’m so proud of you. You did so well.” He beams, a smile painted across his face so bright it could light up a room of shadows.

I had never met someone who had believed me before him - it was all an excuse to other people. They thought I was quiet, or shy, to them it wasn’t real. Then, when I finally trusted Spencer enough to tell him, he was just proud of me for telling him. And now, everytime I do something socially - I’ve never seen someone be so proud. And it makes my heart melt knowing that the person I wake up to everyday, is someone who believes the words that leave my mouth.

“Thanks, Spence. Do you think he thought I looked stupid? I stuttered over my words real bad.” I ask, looking into my drink and remembering the almost non-coherent words I spoke.

“No, he probably thought you looked beautiful. Listen, for someone like you that was a really hard thing to do, really hard. I’m so happy you did that, you’ve never done it before!” He grins, not being able to talk about anything else.

“Yeah I guess so. Jesus it was scary but I’m so happy I did it.” I say, smiling back with a grin just as big.

“How do you feel about trying to order the food? It’s ok if not, you’ve done amazing already.” He says, looking down at the menu, knowing the kind waiter would be back soon to take the order.

“I think I’m done for tonight, but there’s always next time. I mean I’m taking little steps. Maybe I’ll go to the doctor soon.” I reply, thinking about how much better it would be if it was confirmed.

And with Spencer by my side, I wouldn’t have to live in fear anymore.

“Well, let’s enjoy our anniversary then!” He laughs, small giggles being let out of his body.

Without Spencer - I wouldn’t be able to do that. I wouldn’t tackle my fears, I wouldn’t move on from the anxiety-riddled feelings.

But I do, I face my fears and I smash them down like a brick wall that’s in the way.

And I’ll continue to do so.

One More Night // Spencer Reid

A/N — Helllllo again! *loudly whispers* I’m so freaking proud of this

- Blue x

Requested: No, but they’re open!

Warnings: Angsty!

— Third Person —

Things had changed, and the light around them that used to feel like an angel was perched above them, turned to darkness.

Everything around them they disassociated themselves with, separated themselves from anything that reminded their pained minds of each other.

They tried to hold on, they tried their best but in the reality we live in - some things are temporary.

Sometimes, the love we aim for, the love we wish for the most just doesn’t last. And in this case, that’s exactly what happened.

Both bodies, him and her, just didn’t feel the same way as they once did.

The butterflies faded, the light wasn’t as bright, and the shivers running down their spines turned to shocks. It was as if the spark they once had, just didn’t light like they wanted it too.

“Hey, Spence.” She says, sitting next to him on the couch they once bought together, when they moved into the same house to share souls.

“Hey. You said you wanted to talk?” He asks, not worried, because deep down he knows what’s happening. He might not want to admit the heartbreak, but that goes for both of them.

Both bodies didn’t want to let go, but they didn’t fit together like a jigsaw piece anymore, the ends had snapped and frayed. They held on for the live they both once held, but instead all they were holding was each other’s broken pieces and feelings, not wanting to admit defeat.

“Yeah, you did too. What’s going on?” She asks, eyes empty, cradling onto the last bit of feeling she had left for the man perched infront of her.

“I think we both know. I mean, we don’t talk anymore, we don’t laugh together, your eyes don’t light up anymore.” He says, looking down to see his hands playing with the hem of his tie, sadness prioritising his body.

They both feel a weight being lifted off their shoulders, but a heavy one being placed back on them. Letting go was something they never thought they would do - all the times his hands ran through her hair, everytime her nimble fingers found his skin, they never thought it would end. They were living the life they had both wished for, hoped so longingly for. Both had willingly loved each other until wits end, but that was the day they both knew their bodies couldn’t continue in the confined space of the walls around them.

“I know, yeah I know. It’s best, right?” She says, voice broken, matching the pieces of her world she was attempting to put back together.

Her words tried to convince themselves rather than each other, holding onto the hope that they could try once more for the live they both wished they had kept.

The words she whispered were like words from the bible, ‘it’s best’ - wanting it all to go away, but knowing the words were true.

“Yeah, it is. I mean I have a job and so do you, I’m away a lot of the time-“ He begins, the guilt overriding his mind.

She hears his words, his blame, and she realises that that’s what it is.

He blames himself for the loss of love, the loss of a life they once lived. He wishes that his large hands could’ve gripped onto her for longer, but as she slipped away, he couldn’t hold on hard enough and as a result - they lost each other. They lost how well they knew each other, their knowledge of the relationship - the love that was shared for four years.

“Spencer it’s not your fault. It never was. My parents divorced because they didn’t love each other anymore when I was a kid, and we’ve been too blind to see that that’s exactly what’s happening. We can’t admit that you don’t love me as much as you used to, and we can’t admit that I don’t either. It’s not you, it’s our relationship.” She convinces him, tiny hands grabbing his slender ones, warm fingertips touching his palms as a slight tear runs down her cheek.

“It’s been proven that eighty-five percent of relationships end in a breakup rather than anything else, so maybe we fall into that category.” He says, his words somehow making him feel smart in all of this travesty.

One word springs to mind in Spencer - travesty.

That’s what he saw this as, a travesty. He knew that it was ending, that tomorrow he would smile to himself and turn around, remembering that his bed is empty and cold - because the figure that once lay there, smiling and giggling away next to him - isn’t there anymore.

She’s gone, but part of him feels a sense of relief. After all, they aren’t holding onto something that fizzled out, like a sparkler on New Year’s Eve - it’s amazing while it last, bright and ready to tackle everything in its way, but when it hits the end, it fades away into the surrounding darkness.

“I think we do. I’m so sorry.” She says, another tear falling onto her flushed cheeks.

“Hey, come on. It’s not your fault, like you said it’s neither of us. Come on, spend the night, one more night.” He says, voice not as strong as it used to be, instead weak and ready to break.

“Spence I shouldn’t. I’ll go stay at a friends.” She says, shaking her head and standing up.

Before she can walk away, his now ice cold hands grab hers, goosebumps running from arm to arm in both bodies.

His eyes look up to his once-love, wishing he saw her how he used to. She was still beautiful, still the most amazing person he had ever met - just not the way she used to be.

“One more night.” He pleads, wondering if he can let go of her just yet.

“One more night.” She concludes.

They both walk to bed that night, tears across all cheeks, hands shaking, hearts broken.

But, if one more night would convince them everything was ok, then the both of them would hold on -

Just that one night longer.

Difference // Penelope Garcia (blurb)

A/N — thought I’d write a lil thing for the queen, because she deserves all the love ever

- Blue x

Requested: Noooo

Warnings: Zilch

— Garcia’s POV —

I’ve always dressed differently, always been different to everyone around me.

In school, I would be teased for dressing so oddly compared to the other girls, when working for the cyber crime gangs they would openly address the fact I dressed differently to everyone else.

That scared me, later on. The thought of meeting someone and them seeing the real me, and hating it.

What if the way i dressed put them off? What if they were embarrassed by me? - so I didn’t date. I stayed away from romance, away from dating, relationships, everything, I kept away from.

Then, I met her.

The first thing she ever said to me was “wow, I love your outfit.” - I knew I liked her then, because she wasn’t afraid to be herself, and she wasn’t afraid of me being myself.

“Good morning, gorgeous!” She gleams, pondering out of the bedroom to stand behind me as I look into the mirror, looking at my reflection of all the jewellery and brightness.

“Morning, my ray of wonderful sunshine. Sleep well?” I ask, voice high and excited.

But I can’t help but see it. The imperfections, the things I don’t like. They shine through like the sun does in the windows of our house, they were as visible as heaven and hell, yet I could see them. I wanted them to leave, to wish me a happy farewell and I would go about my day - but they stuck, they stayed around to haunt me like a ghost of my past.

“Yeah, I did and always do with you. What’s up?” She asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” I smile, as if painting a picture on a cracked canvas.

“Pen, I can see it in your eyes. You aren’t as happy and hyper, you’re never as quiet as this. What’s up?” She wonders, hands meeting my shoulders gently, rubbing soothing circles on my cardigan-covered skin.

“I just, I don’t know. Do you think the way I dress is too bright? I mean, I don’t want to look weird or make anyone uncomfortable around me y’know?” I sigh, looking in the mirror at my figure, wishing that everyone would just enjoy the differences we all held.

“Pen, stop. Stop doing this all again. If it makes someone uncomfortable, then they should leave, because they aren’t the ones dressing you in the morning, and they aren’t the ones who feel comfortable dressing like this. It’s not weird, it’s you, we all have differences.” She says, hugging me from behind, placing a chaste kiss on my cheek, sending shocks down my spine.

“You think so?” I say, smiling up at her.

“I know so, look how amazing you look.” She giggles, as I turn and kiss her soft lips.

Maybe embracing my differences isn’t so bad.


Happy Birthday to this literal Goob!! He is the purest angel baby I know. He is a beautiful talented dork who never ceases to make me smile. I love everything about him from his various hairstyles to his mix matched socks. Matthew Gray Gubler is the reason I have high expectations. I love him with all my heart and I’m grateful that this lovely Las Vegas native was born. @gublernation