How Dare You [ReidxReader] - 2nd Edition

(1) What the fuck is your problem?

This story is written from your perspective, however, I do not like to use Y/N. I either try to avoid it or will use the name Emily Byrne. It's a character from another show I like. The name will actually make sense for the story.

Please note that this story will include explicit description of drug-use and withdrawal. There will be TWs at the beginning of chapters that mention it.

2nd Edition note: Hi, welcome (back). I am very proud of this story and love it so much. That's why I decided to re-work some parts and add chapters to make the story more detailed. The storyline is the same, so you can read this without having read the first edition. If you have, you might enjoy this as a kind of 'extended version'. Thanks for all the love I received on the first one.

Warning: demeaning or degrading comments about addicts or addiction of any kind will be deleted.
It is okay if you do not like the topics that are being discussed in this story, or how they are being discussed; should you decide to leave any inappropriate comments, you will be blocked without further warning.

Furthermore:
⚠️NSFW WARNING⚠️
General warning for canon-typical violence.

ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ

TW: explicit description of drug usage.

ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ

Desk cleared, box filled with your personal belongings (a photo of you and your partner and a white hourglass filled with black sand) in your hands, you take one last look around the office you spent so many years in. The familiar faces, the smell of the shitty coffee, the sound of footsteps muffled by the carpet and of course the continuous sound of keyboards clicking.

Said partner, Isaac, gives you a wave while the doors of the elevator close in front of you. He wanted to hug you so bad, but he knows that you can't stand that. So, he opted for a very long handshake and making you promise to take him out for dinner soon to tell him all about your new job.

Pressing the button to the lobby, you take a deep breath. You already handed in your gun and badge. You are no longer an Agent of the DEA.

The call came three weeks ago. SSA Rossi of the BAU was on the other end of the line. He said he followed your career. He said he would like you to come in for an interview. Of course, you know who he is. You also know about the BAU. The job of a profiler always has been appealing to you. Somehow, you never pursued it. Now it had pursued you.

The death of a team member let to your hiring. You only met your future boss, SSA Aaron Hotchner. And, well, Rossi on the phone. Hotchner was a tall guy with dark hair and only one facial expression: stern. The interview itself was pretty short, the references you brought were apparently quite convincing on their own. Also, since Rossi seems to have chosen you, you assume there was little discussion.

You don't know if there were any other candidates. When you asked around at the DEA, no one even knew there was a position open. They seemingly kept it pretty lowkey. Maybe because the former Agent died. You cannot imagine how difficult it must be to hire someone new just weeks after your colleague was murdered. Especially, as far as you know, they haven't caught the guy, nor do they have a lead.

You try not to think about all that too much when you enter the bullpen of the BAU early the next morning. You walk straight to Hotchner's office; he is the only one already here.

"Good morning, Sir." You hold your box with one hand to shake his with the other. 

"Good morning." Without further welcoming words, he hands you over your badge and gun. You smile at you badge. It has FBI written on it in bold letters. You feel like your icon, Dana Scully. Then you look back at Hotchner. You see his eyes wander over you like he's checking you out. But not in a sexual way – oh no. More like he's at a dealership and thoroughly making sure the car he just bought doesn't have any scratches or dents before driving off.