#the way hearing about the toxicology reports for his death brought me a bit of a wave of sadness

[fexicoded]

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[doctorthreephds]

Synapses: Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 4.8k

TW: Mentions of death and drugs--specifically from the episode Demonology

A/N: Hey! Just a forewarning, the forensic techniques in this are complete speculation from what I know and they are probably not accurate at all. 

Summary: After starting your new job and getting closer to Spencer, you find yourself having your first fight with your new friend when the anniversary of your mother’s death approaches. 

Masterlist

Taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything​ @green-intervention​ @eevee0722​

Starting your new job was hard, like all things, but enjoyable. The first few days were learning the ropes and the area and you often came home exhausted, tired from a long day’s work in a lab you were unfamiliar with. The little things were what kept you going. Every day, you made an effort to eat lunch with your father--leftovers or food to go from a nearby restaurant or deli. When your father went away on his case, you spent time with Penelope in her bat cave. It was fun to hang out with her, spouting comedic rhetoric whenever someone called her for advice.

“Please don’t eat near the merchandise, baby, it’s my money maker,” she states, typing away at the speed of light as someone rings in. “Information highway speaking, you’re on speaker with me and the good doctor.”

You snort and let out a small laugh as you silently dig into your takeout box of chow mein.

“The good doctor? I thought that was me,” you hear Spencer speak up from the phone and smile, lifting your chopsticks to your mouth.  

“You’ve been replaced, Dr. Reid. Sorry!” you say before taking another bite of the noodles.

“What are you doing--”

“Stay on track, boy genius. What do you need from me?” Penelope asks and you zone out, not wanting to listen into the details of the gruesome murders they were investigating. While your job sometimes involved dead bodies, you were in fact eating lunch and wanted to keep your lunch down for the rest of the day. After they were finished, you could hear them wrapping up and you inserted a final goodbye.

“Bye Spencer! I’ll see you soon,” you state as the phone beeps to signal that the call has ended. 

“See him soon?” Penelope spins around as she fiddles with a pink pen with a puffball on the end that almost matches the pink blush on your face. 

“I mean I’ll see him when the case ends,” you mumble and toss your takeout box into her trash, taking a sip from your water bottle.

“Hm, I’m sure that’s what you meant,” she smiles and turns back to her computer, typing something up. “If you need any info on him, I can tell you anything you want to know, sweets.”

“I’m not gonna do that, it’s an invasion of privacy,” you stand and check your watch, it’s about time for you to get back to work. “But if anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”

Other times, when your father was too busy to entertain you, you would eat with the others--or more specifically, Spencer. Travelling up to the sixth floor, you check to see if Spencer is anywhere nearby. When you deduce that he is nowhere near, his plush office chair becomes your new home as you open up your bag and grab the tupperware full of salad while you wait for his arrival. Opening the small container, you poke at the leaves with your fork and make a face when you see that they’re soggy and limp.

“Have a salad today?” he asks as you look at the sad lettuce in your small tupperware container. 

“Yeah. Although, it doesn’t look very appetizing,” you state and put it down on his desk, looking up at the cup of coffee in his hand that looked far more delicious than the monstrosity that was sad salad. 

“Did you know that salad comes from the latin word ‘herba salta’ which means ‘salted herbs,’ so perhaps you don’t have enough salt on your herbs,” he states and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you close the container and put it away. 

“Any more salt and my blood pressure’s gonna be at risk. Wanna grab lunch at the deli?” you ask and stand. He nods as the two of you exit the bullpen, taking the elevator down.

This was your schedule, and you loved it. It didn’t take that long for you to build a good relationship with everyone, constantly checking in on their lives outside of Quantico. Emily was doing well with Sergio, Henry was growing at a rate that JJ couldn’t comprehend, Penelope was still going out with Kevin, and you and Spencer were often found hanging out on the weekends when he wasn’t called away for a case. 

You found it odd how easily you took to Spencer, how his fun facts were always there to brighten up every conversation and his constant pursuit of knowledge was admirable. He took you to his favorite bookstore as well as his favorite used bookstore that he frequented in hopes of finding first editions and original copies. He also would take you to his favorite park, the one that he went to so that he could play chess and he would always win. It wasn’t always about him, though, you loved taking him to go see new movies as opposed to the older and foreign ones that he enjoyed. The two of you also committed to trying new foods together. With his sensory issues and your picky nature, you both embarked on a journey to eat new foods in hopes of finding something new and delicious.

While your new found friendship was almost perfect in the way that you committed yourselves, it too could not come without ups and downs. The first bump came when you helped consult on an unofficial case, something that had happened with Emily’s close friends. It was only a few days before the anniversary for your mother’s death and you were running on fumes.

“Hello?” you ask sharply, pouring over several reports that were due soon. Your temper was short today and you just wanted to go home.

“Hey it’s Spencer. Are you okay?” he asks and you sigh, rubbing your temples in frustration.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What do you need?” you sit back in your chair and take a sip of your coffee, attempting to quell your anxieties while he speaks.

“I’m not at Quantico right now, I’m at a victim’s house. His name is Thomas Valentine and he died of dehydration but Emily believes there’s foul play. I’ll have Garcia send over his tox reports along with Matthew Benton’s to see if the pathologist missed anything. We’re on our way back so feel free to meet us upstairs when we debrief,” he says and you nod, writing down the information on a stray post-it note so that you don’t forget. “By the way, your dad says ‘hi.’”

“Tell him I say ‘hi’ back. I’ll meet you upstairs,” you state and hang up the phone, sighing as you run your hands through your hair to release some nervous energy. It was only a few more days and you would be on your day off, it was only a few days until you would be able to visit your mom again.

Just as if she heard it from five floors up, you receive an email from Penelope with the toxicology reports from both victims. A quick skim shows that there is a lack of intense scrutiny due to the simple cause of death. But, if Emily and Spencer believe otherwise then it was in your best interest to assume so as well. Looking into Matthew Benton’s report, there was evidence of long-term methamphetamine abuse which could contribute to the death but nothing out of the ordinary. It was only midday and you were running out of steam but your friends needed you so you had to pull it together.

After printing out all the information you have and stashing it in a folder, you make your way up to the bullpen and watch people rushing around. The busyness and chatter made you a bit woozy but the sight of Spencer helped to ground out a bit. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t have to be here,” he frowns as he sees you approach and you shake your head.

“I’m fine, I just want to help out in any way I can,” you mumble and move past him toward the conference room where almost everyone was gathered. Once Hotch arrived, they began to pour over details and possibilities within this pseudo-case. 

Listening intently, you take note of the evidence as it is laid out for you, the scuff marks under the bed, the missionary church in Spain that the two victims had visited, the idea that each family had been highly religious. Years of going to church in France and D.C. were being brought back in an instant. 

“That sounds like an exorcism,” you blurt out and look up to see everyone staring at you. It was odd to hold their attention but you nestled down in your chair and continued to listen. 

“Look, I know the Bible just as well as anyone, but I also know there’s nothing more open to behavioral interpretation than religion,” Derek comments.

“Meaning what?” Emily asks, shaking her head.

“I think it’s dangerous for us to wanna find a connection between these deaths,” he states.

“Wait, was Thomas’ wife religious?” Emily frowns and looks around at your father. 

“She was concerned that he had been cursing God,” your father recalls as Spencer dives into an inference. 

“Exorcism ritual can take days to complete. It’s possible the stress induced could cause a heart attack, especially in someone with a history of drug abuse,” he explains and looks at you. 

“Definitely, drugs leave marks on your body that are irreversible unless you completely stop. It makes an impact on your hair growth, your skin, your heart, so it’s completely plausible. And it could explain how someone died of dehydration,” the facts fly so fast through your head as you try to connect the dots while you speak, your head spinning. Even a couple minutes in the conference room was overwhelming, you couldn’t imagine doing this all the time.  

“Guys, look, I’m willing to say that we might have an unsub who ritualizes killings as if they were exorcisms, maybe. But, right now, we don’t even know if we have a crime yet,” Derek voices his concerns and you slowly nod, thinking about how you could help to clear up any room for error. It was possible if you were able to look at the bodies and examine them that you may have the ability to try and see if there were any other traces of possible deadly substances. 

“Morgan’s right. We need to step back. Let me talk to someone before I have us all telling ghost stories,” your father suggests and everyone appears to take this as time to cool off and rethink any possibilities, standing and leaving the room to follow their own leads. Dread settles in your chest as you sit in the chair, looking down at the folder to find any piece of information that could help you come to a conclusion but the words were flying around in your head and you felt too sluggish to do anything. 

“Do you think that you can get me the victim’s clothing? Perhaps something was done to them topically that would explain their deaths further,” you stand and sigh, already dreading going back to your reports. 

“Yeah, sure. It’ll be our lunch break,” he says and smiles. While his smiles usually have the power to brighten your entire day, your sour mood only extinguished any fire of joy inside your body.

“I have too much to do, just go on without me,” you respond and begin walking out of the conference room. You can already feel Spencer’s pestering bubbling up and wanting to know what’s wrong but you didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“Are you sure? Studies have shown that taking breaks help boost blood flow and information retention--”

“I’m sure, Spencer,” you snap and continue walking toward the elevators before he reaches out and grabs your arm to stop you.

“What’s going on? Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“God, I’m fine Spencer! Stop babying me, you’re not my dad,” all the emotion that had been building up in the morning spilled out in anger and your heart shattered to see Spencer so confused and sad. “I’m sorry.”

Stepping into the elevator, you press the button to go down and watch the doors close in front of you, not looking anywhere in the direction of Spencer. The fluorescent lights above you suddenly look far too bright and tears well in your eyes. What would your mother say if she could see you now? Would she be disappointed? Would she be angry? A vibration in your pocket breaks you out of the self-loathing spiral.

From Dad (12:24PM):

I think you just about broke this kid’s heart.

To Dad (12:25PM):

I didn’t mean to. It’s just so close.

From Dad: (12:25PM):

Just tell him. He’ll understand.

To Dad (12:26PM):

I know. I love you.

As you sit at your desk and stare at the papers, your mind moves on autopilot to complete the rest of your tasks. With only two cups of coffee in your system, your head was starting to hurt and your focus was fizzing but when Spencer came back with a couple bags full of clothing to be processed, the guilt overpowered any feeling of fatigue.

“I brought the evidence. Just send the report to Garcia,” he states and drops the bag off at your desk before turning to leave. 

“Hey, Spencer?” he turns to look at you, his eyes narrowed as you speak. “I’m really sorry. I’m not feeling well.”

“I could have told you that, and I’m not even a medical doctor,” he mutters and sighs. The air between you is stale and you want to speak, but don’t know what to say.

“Do you want to stay and help me process the evidence? It’ll only take a little bit,” you ask, your voice small. He appears to ponder the thought before nodding and you smile, standing and taking the evidence over to one of your machines. This was where you thrived. While you worked in silence, it was comforting to have Spencer around, even if the two of you were still on rocky ground. 

You first started with isolating the fabric and the substances on the clothing. From there, you take them and test what they are to see if there are foreign substances that may have contributed to the deaths of Matthew Benton and Thomas Valentine. Processing goes quickly and you print out the report, frowning at the traces of nerve agent on the clothing.

“There’s sarin on their clothing,” you tell him and hand over the papers for him to read through. 

“Thanks,” he mutters and stands to leave. 

“Are we okay?” you ask him, watching him turn as you wrap your arms around your torso in a comforting way, warming your hands from the cold lab.

“Obviously not, if you’re not telling me something,” he puts down the folder and comes up to you, reaching out to take your hands. It was a bit of a shock, considering the fact that you knew he hated touching hands, but it was progress and it made your heart melt to think that he would feel safe enough to do so. “I know something’s wrong and I want to help you, but you’re not being honest with me.” 

“I just haven’t eaten, Spence. And I’m under the weather, which doesn’t help. I promise that I’ll be okay,” you tell him, staring up into his eyes and speaking with as much truth as you can. But it wasn’t convincing enough and he pulls away as if you just burned him.

“I guess you don’t trust me, then,” he mumbles and turns around, picking up the folder and getting into the elevator. As the doors close, he stares back at you like he was disappointed and it completely broke you. Fat tears roll down your cheeks as your chest bubbles with anxiety and sorrow. You find a seat at your desk and desperately try to wipe the tears away, breathing in deeply to calm yourself down. You were still at work and you still had work to do. 

Quickly, you dive back into your reports, writing them up as quickly as possible and pushing Spencer to the back of your mind. Before you know it, the end of the day comes and you’re out of the building and on the metro at record speed. The vibration of the wheels rolling over the tracks lulls you into a sense of security, distracting you from the pangs in your stomach. Without the distraction of work, your mind was able to wander.

Was it fair for you to hide this from Spencer? Why did you? Why did you need to keep this secret so badly?

Perhaps it was the years of being on your own after her death or the fact that showing sadness was opening yourself up to vulnerability and connection that you feared. Perhaps it was both, you didn’t have many friends in grad school and only talked to your dad once every blue moon. The thought of being a burden was unbearable, but losing Spencer was unfathomable. You could deal with a little bit of vulnerability if it meant getting your friend back. 

Your legs guide you home once you reach your stop and you reheat some rice and add some soy sauce to make something that is edible and that you can keep down without issue. After eating, you shower and head to bed, falling asleep the second that you hit the pillow. 

The next day, your alarm jars you out of a dreamless sleep, shaking you from a night that felt far too short. Your entire body was fatigued and your brain was a mess, but it was your last day at work before you got the day off. As you got ready and out the door, your phone was blowing up with information sent by Penelope and Emily. There was another death and they needed you to analyze the clothing of the third victim to confirm that nerve agent was being used to kill these men. 

One you reach the office, you sit down and begin writing as you await the evidence. If you worked quick enough and finished the reports, you would be able to go home early. The fog in your brain makes it hard to focus as you work on more write ups, the words barely forming sentences, but you force yourself to persevere through lunch. Late in the afternoon, Spencer appears again with the evidence bag you need to process.

“Just send the report to Penelope when you’re done,” he states and turns back around to get into the elevator but you stand and pipe up.

“Can we talk?” you ask, hoping and praying that he would let you speak. 

“I don’t know, can we? Because you seemed pretty adamant about keeping secrets from me last time we tried to talk,” he mumbles as he turns to look at you, his eyes dark and full of storm clouds. 

“I’m sorry,” you begin, trying to find the right words so that your thoughts form coherent sentences. “I’m bad at talking about what’s plaguing me. I’ve been alone for a long time, and I’m sorry. It’s not an excuse, I know, but it’s a start.”

You want to say ‘I’m sorry’ over and over, but it wasn’t an explanation and he deserved at least that.

“Tomorrow is the anniversary of my mother’s death,” his frown almost vanishes from his face as you speak which makes you feel a hint of encouragement to keep talking. “And I’ve always dealt with it alone. Maybe because I don’t let myself handle it any other way, but I hope that you’re able to understand. I’m sorry, Spencer.”

Staring down at the ground, you will the tears to stay in your eyes so that you can keep up some image of togetherness, but they fall as quickly as they form. Suddenly his arms are wrapped around you and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. This was him accepting your apology and you suddenly felt like you could breathe. You worm your arms around his torso and pull him close, allowing yourself to take in all of him. The smell of his cologne, the feeling of muscles as they squeeze you tight, the fact that his hands were intertwined behind your back and his head was settled on top of yours. 

“I’m sorry too,” he mumbles and you pull away slightly to look up at him. “You didn’t have to tell me that.”

He pauses as he also stumbles over his words.

“But, I’m glad you did.”

You let out a sigh and hug him tight again, wanting to memorize the way his arms felt around you. After another long hug, you pull away and wipe your nose, shaking your head as you look over at the evidence bag. 

“I’m sorry, Patrick. I’ll get to processing your clothes now,” you mumble and let out a light laugh as you wash your hands and ready the evidence, processing the substances on his clothing. Beside you, Spencer leans against the wall and watches silently. It’s a bit nerve wracking to have someone watching you the way that he does, with bright eyes and attentive body language, but you do your best to explain it to him as the machine brings up the results. 

“Nerve agent, it’s sarin,” you turn to him. “Go tell them.”

He nods and picks up the newly printed report.

“I’ll come get you afterward,” he promises. “We can ride the train together.”

“There’s no need, I’m going home now. Just text me,” you smile up at him as he nods and takes your hand, squeezing it one last time before leaving.

You feel lighter now, like you lifted a rock off your chest. It was a burden, keeping secrets, but now you could feel a little bit better. After writing up all the procedural stuff on how you processed the evidence, you pack your bag and head to the metro. When you’re on the train, you get a text from Spencer telling him that they caught the priest and he was being deported back to Italy. 

To Spencer (7:45PM):

I’m glad.

From Spencer (8:01PM):

Do you want me to come over?

To Spencer (8:02PM):

No, it’s okay. I’ll be okay.

When you finally arrive at your stop, you easily find your way home. There was still sadness lingering, it was getting to be that time, but you had Spencer and that was enough. Getting home and getting to bed is a quick ordeal after you eat something and drink way too much wine to try and drown your sorrows and quiet your mind. The same days every year, you take a couple off so that you can mourn the loss of your mother and visit her grave. It was almost like a way to pretend that she was alive, even if just for a day. You had a lot to tell her after everything that’s happened, but it still didn’t help the fact that she was gone forever. 

Waking up the next morning is rough, it feels like a train plowed into you after a night of tears shed and one too many glasses of wine as you reminisced. Looking at your phone on this bright Friday morning, you see that you’ve managed to sleep in pretty significantly, but at least it was still technically morning. Waiting for you are a text from your father and a text from Spencer.

From Dad (6:00AM): 

Chin up, tesoro. Your mother loved you very much, she would be proud of everything you accomplished. 

From Spencer (7:02AM):

Do you want to get dinner after work?

From Spencer (7:34AM):

Where are you?

From Spencer (8:01AM):

Let me know what I can do.

The blanket of isolation took over you as you slowly began your morning routine, slowly being the key word. While Spencer knew, you didn’t know what to do now. This was uncharted territory for you and while you knew you weren’t alone, you had also never mourned with another person besides time spent at your mother’s funeral. Perhaps another year, another time. He was only just your friend. 

After you throw on comfy clothes and brush your teeth, you put your hair up so that it’s out of your face and eat some cereal--something easy and virtually effortless. Once you finish, you make a mental note of what you’re going to pick up at the store before heading to the cemetery to spend time with your mom. Throwing on a coat and slinging your bag over your shoulder, you punch in the security code and open the door to see Spencer there.

“Spencer? What are you doing here, it’s only like two,” you frown and close your apartment door behind you, locking it with your keys.

“I finished up all my paperwork so I took a half day and I wanted to cheer you up,” he states as you look up at him. “Maybe we can watch some Star Wars or that vampire movie you always talk about.”

“I’m going to visit my mom,” you tell him.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll go then,” he says and begins to turn and walk away but you pipe up before he can get too far.

“Why don’t you come with me?” you ask. He was already here and he wanted to help you feel better. His presence alone was grounding, reminding you of what you had and not of what you lost. 

“Are you sure?” he asks and you nod, walking up next to him.

“She would have loved you,” you almost reach out and take his hand before you realize what you’re about to do. “Can--Can I hold your hand?”

You’re almost positive he’s going to say no. After all, you know he has issues with germs and sensory issues, the day before being a special occasion because you had broken down crying in front of him. But, when he nods and holds out his hand, you feel your heart flutter. The two of you make your way downstairs in a comfortable silence and the warmth of Spencer’s hand in yours is comforting. As you exit the elevator and make your way out onto the street, the cold D.C. air is refreshing.

Together you walk to the local grocery store to grab some food and flowers, daffodils, which were your mother’s favorite. After, you ride the metro down near the cemetery. This whole time, the presence of Spencer is enough to distract you from the ever present cloud looming over your head, but when you finally walk through the cemetery’s gate, all hell breaks loose. 

When Spencer hears you sob, he instantly wraps his arms around you. The floodgates open and you softly sob into his chest, your arms wrapped around him in a vice. Your heart hurts, you miss your mother. She should have been alive to see all the accomplishments, to see your wedding and your second graduation. It’s times like these where you wonder if anything could have been done, if you could have seen the symptoms sooner or if you could have found another doctor, but your father always reminds you that you did everything in your power to help her and that she would have been proud of the person you were today. 

Once your sobs subside, you sniffle and pull away to wipe your nose. 

“Sorry for crying on you,” you huff out a small laugh and try to wipe away some of the snot that got on him while you cried.

“It’s okay, I understand,” he says and you sit down on the blanket, Spencer sitting next to you and helping to lay out the food. 

“Hey mom,” your voice breaks a little and you clear your throat before turning to Spencer. “This is Spencer and he works with dad. He’s my best friend.”

You smile at him as he turns and waves at her headstone. The notion is so heartwarming that you feel the tears rise up again.

“Hi Ms. Montgomery, your daughter is one of the best people I know,” he says as you begin to eat cheese and crackers from the charcuterie board.

“He works in the same building I do, I got the job at Quantico. I know that FBI agents and you don’t mix very well but I enjoy my job and they have all these new machines for me to play with,” you lay your head on Spencer’s shoulder and continue talking as he wraps an arm around you instinctively. As the two of you sit there and pick at the food, continuing to talk about your mom and your fondest memories, there’s a part of you that wishes it could be like this always. Maybe you didn’t have to always hide your sadness and spend it in isolation. And just maybe, there was always a rainbow after a storm.

[ewritesthangs]

Part 2: A month later

A/N:: Here is the second installment of the baby Halstead reader!

Antonio Dawson x Halstead! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Mature themes

The pile of papers sat on your home office desk, staring at you. They needed to be checked. And yet, you were distracted. Antonio was snoring in the room off the office. Which happens to be your room. He had spent the night, again. You didn’t mind, for he was a furnace and you tended to freeze yourself. The snoring stopped, making you a bit scared. 

“Good morning beautiful.” A tired tone came from the entry-way to your office. 

“You snore very loudly.” You chuckle. “Kept me from my work.” You nod your head in the direction of the pile. 

“Oops?” He smirks and saunters over to you. He captures your lips in a kiss, tipping your head up by your chin. You smile when you break. “Forgive me?”

“Hmm, a little.” 

“I’ll do anything, ma’am. Please.” He kneels in front of you, a pout on his face and his hands on your bare thighs. Just as you were about to answer, you hear the door to your apartment open and Jays voice echo through your apartment. 

“Bug! Wake up! I brought you some coffee!” Antonio’s eyes went wide, and your heart started to race. 

“My bathroom, go.” You whisper, standing up. He tiptoes into your bathroom. “Hold on a minute Jay-bird! Let me get descent!” You put on a pair of sweats, not realizing they were Antonio’s. You then walk down the hall to where Jay stood. “Haven’t you heard of knocking?” 

“What’s the fun in that?” A small smirk plays across his lips, a cup being handed to you with your favorite coffee in it. Iced. 

“Okay, you’re forgiven.” You state, sipping the coffee. 

“I will never understand how you can drink iced coffee in all temperatures.” 

“Iced coffee is bomb diggity and you just don’t appreciate it.” 

“Who says bomb diggity anymore?”

“I do, obviously, moron.” 

“Hey, be nice. I brought you coffee.” He pouts. 

“Wait until Will finds out you broke into my place.” 

“I didn’t break into your place, I made a key for Will and I.” Your mouth becomes ajar, shocked. 

“Jay Martin Halstead. Seriously? God you guys are terrible.” 

“You won't be saying that if you get locked out, now will you?” 

“Bite me, Halstead.” 

“You don’t taste good, so I’ll pass.” You punch him in the arm, causing him to flinch. 

“Voight has a new case for us.”

“I know, I helped him figure out the pattern.” 

“I forget you’re super ultra mega smart.” 

“Future Dr. Y/N Halstead, at your service.” You bow. “Let me get changed. I’ll meet you there.” 

“I thought-” 

“I have a guy here, Jay.” Antonio was listening in on the conversation and began to panic as he heard you say that. You guys had not mentioned going public. 

“Oh? Let me meet him.” 

“He is a fling, you know I don’t do relationships anymore.” 

“Fine, fine. I’ll see you at work.” He places a kiss to your cheek before heading out. You watched as he left, making sure the coast was clear. 

“You’re good, Antonio.” When he walked out, he was dressed. He seemed a bit upset. He had grown very fond of you. In more ways than he had thought he could. “Hey, Tonio.” You step in front of him. 

“I gotta get to work. But first, I have to change.” 

“Not before you tell me what’s going on.”

He sighs in defeat. “I heard what you said about us.” 

“Wait wait wait. You’re upset I said we were a fling? I thought that was what it was. Just sex, no strings attached.” His expression dropped, his heart going to the pit of his stomach. 

“Yeah, it was but now, I want more.” This kind of scared you. You didn’t want to do the whole feelings thing, in fear of getting hurt. You couldn’t lie, you had feelings for Antonio too, but you were scared that he too could and would hurt you. 

“Antonio I-I” Your voice was small, a whisper. 

“I’ll uh see you at the precinct.” And with that, he left. You felt horrible. You got changed and headed to the precinct. He was there shortly after you. 

A gravelly voice interrupts your thoughts. “Alright, we have a drug ring run by Los Labios. Hector Reyes is the leader. There have been 3 bodies to show up around town.” Kim handed out the information packets. 

“They don’t look related.” Adam pipes up, examining the crime scene photos. 

“That’s because, if you continue on with the packet, it’s all in the toxicology reports. You see, these kills were made to look random and like they were killed one way. But if you look at the M.E. reports, they all have the same concentrations of fentanyl in their symptoms mixed with other substances. These mixtures are a common cause of deaths with Reyes. He has done this before, in his home of Puerto Rico.” Antonio watched as you showed the rest of the team, his heart aching. He loves how intelligent you are. 

“Whoa.” Adam states in awe. 

“And since Y/N is relatively new to the team, I thought we could do an undercover assignment with her. She seems to be just the type for Reyes.” 

“No!” Jay and Antonio say in unison. 

“Not up for debate. Kim is going to be her wing woman. This will start tomorrow.” 

“I do not like this idea, one tiny bit.” Jay crosses his arms. 

“I’m not a little kid anymore, Jay. I can do this.” 

“I just don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“I know.” You wrap your arms around his torso, and bury your head in his chest. This always gets him to go soft and cave. 

“Why must you tug so at my heart?” He rubs your back and kisses your head. 

“It says to do so in the sibling bible.” You retort, looking up at him. 

“And you do like to read and memorize.” He chuckles. “Go get prepared then. Read everything and such. I love you.” 

“I like you too.” You smirk and duck away from the small swat you were about to receive. 

“Play nice you two.” Antonio pipes in. You walked over to his desk. 

“Locker room. I need to talk to you.” You whisper as you bent down so he could see you better. 

“I have a file to read.” He says coldly. 

“Now, Dawson.” You reply, in a stern tone. He looks up and sighs, defeated again. 

Once you guys are in the safety of the locker room, with nobody in there, you lock the door. 

“What do you want? To humiliate-” He doesn’t finish his sentence, for you had cut him off with a kiss. “Please don’t play with me, Y/N.” He pleads. 

“I’m scared, okay? I have very intense feelings for you. But I don’t want to be hurt again. You know this from out night time talks.” 

“Y/N, I would never hurt you. Not intentionally. Not emotionally. I have liked you since you were 24. I fell for you when you became my partner. It’s hard not to. You are brilliant, funny, intelligent, beautiful, the list goes on.” His words hit you in the heart, which sent a signal to your tear ducts to open up and shed some tears. 

“Can-can we go slow-ish? I want to try. But keep it a secret from everybody. I don’t want you being killed by the brothers Halstead.” 

“Slow-ish?” He chuckles, pulling you into his embrace. 

“Maybe I meant secretive. I just don’t want many people to know. Especially my overbearing brothers.” 

“As long as I get to call you mine, I am down.” He kisses your head. A knock on the door breaks the intimate moment. 

“Y/N? Let's go get some lunch! Will wants to see you.” 

“I’ll be right out!” 

“Better not be fu-” 

“Jay Martin!” You open the door, eyes puffy and red. 

“The fuck did he do?” 

“I was confiding in him how scared I was for the undercover operation.” 

“I’m going to see if I can go in as her friend or something. Be a drug mule or something.” Antonio shrugs, spewing the truth. He wanted to be with you the whole time. Make sure, for his and Jay’s sake, that you were okay. 

“Oh, okay. That could actually work. Since you know Spanish and all.” 

“I am a total asset to this mission.” Antonio proudly stands with a smirk, making you laugh. 

“You’re such a dork.” 

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Master of Puppets

(Yandere Risotto Nero X Female Reader)

Originally from my wattpad

Hope you enjoy

Ever since you were young you had an interest in forensics. You used to read about many of the murders that had shaken the world and watched many shows about how criminals had been brought to justice. You even had done projects on the subject for school passion projects.It was a life long passion that you persuaded, even thou your mother was hesitant on the idea due to the exultation of organised crime in Italy.

Eventually you had gotten the job you had been working so hard to get. You had finally become a forensic detective and it wasn't long until you had climbed through the ranks.

Now you were sitting at your desk in your bedroom. Looking through CCTV footage, scribbling down notes with one hand while eating take out butter chicken with the other.

Recently some rather strange death's had occurred. A man and his wife killed by a car that had bursted from inside of him, a man frozen under a lake in mid summer, a woman with several lacerations to her organs with no outer wounds, bodies of younger people found as old frail corpses and so on...

All of your coworkers had given up on the cases due to there not being and significant evidence to lead to any murderer, but you were determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

As of now you had found a few suspects, it seemed that they had always been around the area during the murders.

Your phone began to ring. You quickly paused the video and put down your pen before answering.

"Hello,(Y/n) (L/n) speaking"

"Hello (Y/n), I was just calling to see how your going" a familiar soothing voice said. The voice of your mother.

"Oh hi Mom! How are you!" You said as you put another piece of chicken in your mouth.

"Good, how about you"

"Tired. Been looking over CCTV footage for hours now" you said as you started reading over your notes.

"(Y/n)... I worry for your safety, what if you get caught up with the Mafia"

"I'm fine trust me, I've got it all under control" you said as you looked up to the board you had just above your desk. Several pieces of string were placed around the board to link up several profiles.

"Just make sure to keep yourself safe" she said.

"I will" you replied.

"Well, good night (y/n)"

"Night Mom" you said before hanging up, placing down your phone and getting back to work.

As you continued your work you couldn't help but feel as if you were being watched. Sometimes you felt someone breathing on your neck or playing with the strands of your hair but every time you turned around there was no one there.

'maybe it's just the fatigue' you thought.

"your so close, the last piece is right next to you" a voice whispered causing you to frantically look around, you found nothing.

'I need some sleep' you thought as you hopped into your bed.

🔗🔗🔗

The next two weeks those same sensations kept happening and dreams of a pair of red irises watching you looped in your mind. Eventually sleep had become something you didn't get, making coffee your best friend.

Your phone rang

"Hello, (y/n) (l/n) speaking" you spoke robotically as you answered.

"We've got another case you might want to add to that large stack of yours" your work colleague, Monica said.

"Meet me at the station, I'm about to do a toxicology test" she said before hanging up.

🔗🔗🔗

You had been feeling a bit feverish all day but after seeing what you had just saw you couldn't help but make a rush to the bathroom and throw your guts up.

"(Y/n)... What's going on? Your usually good with this stuff" Monica said. You spat out the remaining vomit from you mouth before grabbing a handful of toilet paper to wipe your mouth.

"I haven't been feeling well lately" you said before walking to the basin to quickly wash up. You left the bathroom and grabbed a cup of water before heading back into the autopsy room.

"How the fuck did he get a pair of scissors inside his neck without any openings!" You exclaimed.

"That's what you've got to figure out" Monica said to you.

🔗🔗🔗

"No! You can't be serious!" You yelled at you boss.

"Listen to me please I am just one piece away from cracking this case, you can't just tell me to surrender all my evidence and pretend that this all never happened!" You please.

"(Y/n) this case has gotten to your head. I can't have one of my best detectives drop dead because they can't manage themselves" he responded.

"Please there must be another way?" You asked. He looked through his notebook before replying.

"I'll need you to get a psychological report, if they give you any requirements to continue working you must follow them" he said.

"Yes I will" you said

🔗🔗🔗

"So (y/n) tell me what's been troubling you lately" the psychologist said as he held his note book and pen ready to jot down some notes.

"Well you know about my work so I'll skip that" you said.

"But lately I've been this strange feeling" you said as you stared at the roof.

"Like what?" He asked.

"Like I'm being watch... Whenever I'm doing my work I get these occasional feelings. Like a breath on my neck or something playing with my hair some times I hear voices that aren't there" you explained and he jotted what you said down.

"And I've also been having this strange recurring dream..."

"About what?"

"I'm being stared at by someone in the inky abyss"

"Do you know who it is?"

"No all I can see are a pair of red irises. Eyes without a face, nothing else"

"Any psychological tests you've had before" he asked.

"Last one I had was a mandatory psychological profile to see if I was fit for the job" you responded.

"And it came back relatively clean, enough to get me the job" you continued.

After that he gave you a few tests before grabbing his laptop and typing up his diagnosis and printing it.

"Miss (Y/n) I'm going to give you a prescription for apo-seratine which you need to take one tablet with breakfast, I also have advised your boss that you must take two days off a week" he explained to you.

"Hopefully that will help you out, if you need to enquire about anything else please call me to arrange another appointment" he continued.

🔗🔗🔗

"Hi Mom" you said over the phone.

"Hi sweetie, how are you?"

"Good, I was just wondering if we could meet up? I don't have work today so I just thought that we could spend the day out!" You asked

"Yes of course, dear!" She replied.

"We could have lunch at that restaurant that I use to take you to when you were little"

"Sounds like a great idea" you replied

🔗🔗🔗

The day had been a blast, you a d your mother had gone on a big shopping spree and eaten some delicious food but great times never lasted forever and the train ride back would be long.

"Bye Mom" you said as she hopped in her car.

"Bye (Y/n), have a safe ride" she said as she started the car and drove off.

You began to walk to the train station but stopped as you heard a scream, you quickly ran towards the ally that it came from, you halted as you saw the scene in front of you. A man being torn up as another male watched. You quickly grabbed out you camera an began to film the gory sight in front of you. The man turned and you hid behind the wall.

Was this the missing piece that you were looking for. Was he the man behind some of the murders.

You saved the video before running out the ally and into the main streets. Your heart began beating rapidly and you breathing became heavy.

"Excuse me miss, are you lost?" A male voice said. You turned to see who it was, it was him, looking at you with his red irises with the rest of his eyes were black.

You quickly formulated a plan.

"Yes I am sir! Could you please help me get to my hotel, it's supposed to be a few blocks down but I've seemed to have lost my way" you explained while attempting a french accent.

"Sure I can help you" he said in a monotone voice.

You quickly pulled out a town map that you had fetched earlier.

"It should be around here, I'm just horrible at following maps" you nervously giggled as you pointed to the street. He gave a small grin.

"I'll take you there" he offered.

"Yes please sir" you said as you grabbed out your phone and quickly texted work, telling them to send the police.

🔗🔗🔗

It seemed as if everything was going as planned, the hotel was only a few metres. You just had to bare your nerves for just a little longer. He then grabbed you and pulled you into the back alley. You tried to scream but you mouth had been stapled shut.

You flailed in his grip.

"You were so close, weren't you?" He said as he grabbed your camera from your bag, crushing it.

"You had every piece..." He continued as he did the same to your phone before resting his head in the crock of your neck.

"But I just can't let you unearth our secret... But I've grown far to attached to you to kill you..."