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globlin-theifer · 3 days ago

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Purdy........

People are really fucking weird sometimes, and I'm really exhausted of dealing with how fucking weird they can be in my direction.

Today is the last day of September, 2024.

Show me your pets. Please add them to this post bc I have images off in asks. 💗

#meemaw #love her #my babay #her name is purdy #i was not calling her pretty i. southern #she is pretty though

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herejusttosufferalong · 3 days ago

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Love to see her out having fun with her friends

She looks so happy here 💜

#nicola coughlan #love her #not a prop btw

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sakuramv · 3 days ago

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Honey?!

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pathologicalreid · 1 hour ago

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i was up thinking about this one last night 😭

Heyy dunno if this is something you’d consider writing but I just saw an edit of Spencer and it made me realize we don’t really go into how he essentially relapsed when he was drugged in Mexico and now I need to see this in writing I don’t necessarily have a prompt but something along the lines of just having a convo with him or comforting him? 🫶🏼

the ninth step | S.R.

spencer works to make amends after mexico, and he's starting with you

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; hurt/comfort content warnings: drug use, narcotics anonymous, spoilers for 2x15 "revelations", spoilers for 12x13 "spencer", substance use disorder, fiancee!reader, the ninth step is amends, a lot of crying, only a little proofread word count: 1.11k a/n: you say no prompt and i say free reign!!! i think about spencer in mexico all the time so thank you sooo much for this request!

The only time anyone could find Spencer Reid in a church was when he was in a meeting.

As usual, you waited out front on one of the benches, leaning your elbow on the iron armrest as you kept your notebook balanced on your thigh, scribbling notes down as you waited for Spencer to come out and meet you.

Members of his group left the church in staggered variations of people, some left together to get coffee after, some left alone, and one didn’t leave at all. A few of them acknowledged you as they passed, but no one mentioned your fiancé.

Once your car was the last one remaining in the parking lot, you slipped your notebook into your bag before hauling it over your shoulder and standing up. Wiping off the back of your jeans, you walked through the front doors, noting the way the stained-glass windows refracted the remaining sunlight on the linoleum floor.

Knowing the pathway, you walked over to the meeting room, a space reserved for youth groups, Sunday school, and Narcotics Anonymous meetings. With the space vacated, the only sound was the tapping of your shoes as you passed through the doorway, and just as you had assumed, Spencer was the only person remaining in the windowless room.

He didn’t move as you approached him, sticking your hands in your jeans pockets as you silently assessed the despondent look on his face. “How are you?” You asked softly, tilting your head to the side.

“I’m just sitting,” he mumbled, it wouldn’t have been intelligible if you didn’t have years of practice understanding him and his mumbles. His old NA group had disbanded years ago, and you were glad to find this one close to your apartment.

Nodding understandingly, you took one more step closer to him, “Can I sit with you?”

Brown eyes flickered up at you just then as he seemingly considered your offer, “Yeah.”

Looking around, you hooked your ankle around the leg of an empty, gray folding chair and dragged it across the floor until it was next to Spencer. Setting your bag on the floor, you took your seat.

For a while, you sat in silence. For a while, that was enough.

After a couple of minutes, your silence was broken when Spencer finally moved, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, and your chest ached when slowly, his shoulders started to shake.

Getting out of your chair, you crouched in front of him, keeping your hands resting on your knees as you looked up at him, “Can I get you anything?” You asked, keeping your voice level as emotion threatened to take over.

You had known that today wasn’t going to be a good day from the moment Spencer asked you to drive him to the meeting. He asked you to take him because he was afraid that he wouldn’t make it there on his own, and at the time, you hadn’t even dared to consider the implications of what that meant for him.

Spencer’s hands fell to his lap, and you eyed him carefully as he took a deep breath. His eyes were bloodshot and watery as he looked at you just as intently – there was a dam built between the two of you, and there had been since he came home.

Things had changed. That much was clear to you ever since he came home to you and said the word out loud. A word that had seemed foreign in your household until it became a reality. You continuously had to remind yourself that you weren’t in this situation because of a decision he had made, you were here before of a choice that someone else had made for him.

It churned your stomach to see him knocked back down to day one. Six months later, you were here, in this denominational building, silently pleading with him to say something to you.

Holding your breath, Spencer reached his hands out, taking both of yours in his, “I’m so sorry.”

Your shoulders drooped. We don’t have to do this here, you wanted to tell him, but that’s not what he needed right now. Gently, you squeezed his hands in a comforting gesture, “I know you are, baby.”

“We…” he whispered, “Our lives should look a lot different right now.” He said, moving a finger and tapping the engagement ring on your left hand.

A previously planned wedding day had come and gone, Spencer had been in Millburn, and you spent the day on the couch in Emily’s office.

Refusing to disconnect your hands, Spencer wiped his face on his arm, the motion bringing a minuscule smile to your face. “I shouldn’t have gone to Mexico. I should’ve been more honest with you about where I had been going and what I was doing, and I know that now.”

You looked up at him, maintaining eye contact with him. He was trying to make amends with you.

“I know that there’s no amount of apologizing or groveling that can fully make up for everything you’ve lost because of me, but for as long as you keep having me, I’ll spend all of my days trying to make up for all of this,” he lamented, keeping his clammy hands clasped around yours. “Actions speak louder than words, that’s true, especially with amends, and… I’m trying.”

Spencer followed the NA handbook to the very finest minutiae, he stayed away from anything that his substance use disorder could cling onto, and as his voice broke and tears made pathways on his cheeks, you wanted to tell him that you saw him. You noticed every effort he made, but all you could do was cry in time with him.

Disconnecting your hands, he reached out and wiped away your tears before cupping both of your cheeks in his hands, “I’m never going to stop trying for you, Y/N.”

Your lips parted as you wandered the depths of your mind for something adequate to tell him, but nothing came out.

“All of the sacrifices that you’ve made in the name of the life that I messed up, I see them all. I think about them all the time and if there’s ever anything you need from me, just tell me, okay?” He implored, lifting your chin and gently guiding you up, pulling you toward him until you were sat with your legs perpendicular on his lap.

You let loose a shaky sigh, leaning your head and settling it on his shoulder, “Thank you,” you whispered, closing your eyes as he wrapped his arms around your torso, keeping you close to him.