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spencerreidswhore187 · 1 year

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False Confidence

Don't take yourself so seriously / Look at you all dressed up for someone you never see.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer and Y/N hate each other, they just don't realise they have been anonymously messaging for months.

Word Count: 2.8k

T/W: Mentions of murder and death

A/N: For @sackofpissandshit . I came up for the premise of this as a plate of prawns fell onto my head at work. Enjoy! ◡̈

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SherlockHolmes1887: You were right.

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face; you replied immediately, the half-drunk coffee in your hand forgotten.

NapoleonOfCrime: Feel free to say that again.

He did.

Briefly, you looked up from your phone to cross the road. You were on the way to work having just received a message from Hotch. It sounded urgent.

NapoleonOfCrime: So what made you realise that, as per usual, I was right?

You had spent the better part of the night trying to convince him that Sherlock Holmes was in love with Jim Moriarty. You had met him online several months ago, on an Arthur Conan Doyle forum and have been messaging ever since.

He, except for the one and only Penelope Garcia, was your best friend. You told him everything. Except for who you are.

Early on in talking you both had agreed not to exchange names, tell each other where you lived or what you did for a career. You knew what SherlockHolmes1887 favourite film was (Star Trek), that he liked wearing mismatched socks and his mum used to call him ‘Crash’ because he would crash into things when he was younger. You knew that, like you, he had four qualifications, liked Sherlock Holmes and had an unhealthy obsession with coffee. You just didn’t know his name.

Your phone vibrated.

SherlockHolmes1887: “The greatest schemer of all time, the organiser of every devilry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations—that's the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. [...] Foulmouthed doctor and slandered professor—such would be your respective roles! That's genius, Watson.”

Your phone buzzed again. You silenced it as you walked into the BAU elevator.

SherlockHolmes1887: I reread ‘The Valley of Fear’ last night.

You were about to reply when a voice cried out.

“Hold the door!”

Instinctively, you stretched your arm out between the closing elevator doors.

The person entered beside you.

If you had known who had asked, you would have let the doors shut.

Dr Spencer Reid leant on his cane, drumming his fingers against its metal top as the elevator moved upwards. He had recently been shot in the leg on a case. You would never tell him but when that gun fired, you thought you were going to be sick. Your heart ached. It made you hate him even more.

“Reid,” you said, staring forward. You refused to look at him.

“L/N,” He replied.

That was the most words you’d exchanged in days.

When the doors finally opened again, you both headed towards the round table, where the rest of the team was waiting.

You and Spencer were the last to arrive.

It’s not like him to be late, you thought.

You took a seat between Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan - you were sat as far away from Spencer as possible.

“Now that you are all here,” Hotch began, pulling you from your thoughts, “let’s begin.”

Penelope connected her computer to the screen; there was a picture of a body. The flesh was rotten, decayed from what was evidently years hidden away. Your eyes are wide as you saw it: a long cut, rough and jagged, stretched from neck to naval. You recognised this signature.

“The Brooklyn Butcher,” you said, interrupting the silence.

Hotch nodded.

It was a case that had occurred six years ago and ended up going cold.

Spencer recalled, “Eleven women, all under the age of twenty-five, all with red hair, went missing and then their bodies always turned up three days later with a long knife wound across their torso.”

“The only body,” you continued, “that was never discovered was Sharon Lewis’. The first to go missing. The wife of Mitch Lewis, the prime suspect during the investigation.”

“Why wasn’t he arrested?” Derek asked.

Spencer answered before you could, tucking a strand of his brown hair behind his ear. Why did you want to run your hands through his hair?

“There was no evidence. The police’s only theory was his wife was his first kill and he killed all the other victims who resembled her in an attempt to relive the thrill of the kill.”

“He had an alibi for Sharon Lewis’ disappearance,” you added.

“Correct - they also never found her body. They couldn’t prove their theory without her body.”

“Well,” Hotch said, “they have now.”

“Sharon Lewis, aged twenty-four, was the first victim in the Brooklyn Butcher killings. Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.”

JJ leant back in her chair and pressed her pen to her lips, “So the cut was postmortem?”

“According to the coroners.”

“But that was not the case for the rest of the victims?”

“No,” Hotch replied.

“Our UNSUB gained confidence in his kills.”

Lewis was likely his first-ever kill. You wanted to message Sherlock and ask him what he thought. He was intelligent beyond belief, you were sure he would add valuable insight to this case but you couldn’t tell him. Then he would know you worked for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. You couldn’t let him know that. He couldn’t know who you were. What would he think then? When he knew you were more comfortable around dead bodies than real people.

“How was the body discovered?” Spencer asked.

Hotch had that dark look in his eyes, the one he got when an UNSUB scared him. You hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since Haley died.

“The body was left on an empty police vehicle parked outside a station in Brooklyn. There was a note attached to it.”

Penelope clicked a button on her laptop and the slide changed to a screwed-up piece of paper nailed to the shoulder of the body.

Hotch read it aloud, “You have three days before I kill another. Happy hunting, the Butcher.”

He stood up from his seat, “Selene Harker was reported missing twelve hours ago. We leave for New York now - wheels up in twenty. Penelope, you’re coming with us.”

She smiled nervously, you gave her a discreet thumbs up.

Everyone stood up from the round table and headed towards the door, you had grabbed the handle when Hotch stopped you.

“L/N, you need to stay here.”

You froze, confused.

He continued, “Reid has not been cleared to fly by his doctors yet and I need you to go through the old Mitch Lewis interrogation clips, find out whether he told any lies. Stay in touch.”

With that he left the room, leaving you there with Spencer before you had a second to protest.

You weren’t really sure how you did it, it’s an ability you’ve had since you were a kid. It’s how you were flagged by the FBI. You could tell when people lied. Everyone has a tell and, like the lie-detecter you are, you knew how to spot it.

When you and Reid had first met, three years ago, he had told you all the statistics about lies: “Did you know,” he had said, “10% of all lies can be defined as exaggerations, though 60% of all lies are considered to be deceptive.”

You remembered how you had nodded, anxious as it was your first day.

“Of all liars, 70% of them claim to be willing to do it again. Every week, Americans tell 11 lies. In a study of 11,366 lies told by 632 people over 91 days, 75% of them lied between 0 or 2 times per day.”

“You know a lot,” You had laughed.

Reid seemed kind. You liked kind people; you dealt with a lot of horrible people growing up.

“I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187.”

That was the first time you and Spencer had ever spoken and it was the last time you ever spoke like friends.

You spun on your heels to face Spencer.

“You leave me alone and I’ll leave you be. Understood?”

“Understood,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes.

“God, you are so infuriating.”

“I hate you,” he retorted.

You noticed the way his jaw tensed.

You grinned, “Lie.”

Spencer groaned and left the room. Through the window, you saw him take a seat at his desk.

Laughing, you walked into Penelope’s office and pulled up the police footage.

You were three hours into the Mitch Lewis footage and he had told three lies.

The first was that he did not know what happened to the other victims. Although, this could mean he had read about the case online.

The second was more interesting. Lewis said he was at the pub when his wife disappeared. Even though there was security camera footage to confirm this, he was lying,

The third made your head spin. He said he didn’t kill her. True. He said he didn’t know where she was. Lie.

You paused the interrogation and contacted Hotch to tell him what you had found. He replied telling you to take a break as they searched for Mitch Lewis.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you reached for your phone and messaged Sherlock.

NapoleonOfCrime: Hi.

He replied almost immediately.

SherlockHolmes1887: Hey.

NapoleonOfCrime: So you read ‘The Valley of Fear’ in one night just to try and prove me wrong?

SherlockHolmes1887: If that’s how you want to interpret it :)

NapoleonOfCrime: And?

SherlockHolmes1887: And…they are very much in love. It’s almost blindingly obvious.

NapoleonOfCrime: “It has been an intellectual treat for me to see the manner in which you have grappled with this case.” The definition of enemies to lovers.

SherlockHolmes1887: Enemies to lovers?

You don’t think you ever smiled as much as when you did with him.

NapoleonOfCrime: It’s better you don’t ask, or else I’ll be sending you links to Moriaty x Sherlock fan fiction.

SherlockHolmes1887: What are you doing right now?

Your fingers danced along the tiny keyboard on the phone screen.

NapoleonOfCrime: Work. You?

SherlockHolmes1887: Work.

NapoleonOfCrime: How is it?

It made you nervous that he didn’t reply instantly.

NapoleonOfCrime: Don’t worry, this isn’t me trying to figure out what you do or who you are. I like the mystery.

SherlockHolmes1887: Horrible. But it’s not really work that’s the problem. There’s a girl.

It hurt a little to know there was a girl, of course it did, but you didn’t mind. What you cared about was how he seemed distressed.

NapoleonOfCrime: If you want to share, I’m a good listener.

He typed for what seemed like an eternity.

SherlockHolmes1887: We, her and I, have worked together for years. She’s smart and funny and beautiful. So beautiful. But she hates me. I messed up when we first met, I was so nervous around her that I just ignored her. Whenever she tried to speak to me, I would walk away or just act like she wasn’t there. And, now, I am finally more confident, she can’t even be near me without glaring in my direction at least once.

You yearned for someone to talk about you that way. No one had ever told you that you were beautiful. You didn’t need someone to tell you because you didn’t believe it, it’s just that sometimes, on the inevitable bad days, you want to feel wanted.

NapoleonOfCrime: I’m sure if you explain it to her, she will understand - you said she’s smart. I can see why you like her.

SherlockHolmes1887: Yeah, I fell hard.

I fell hard.

You recalled what Hotch had said, “Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.”

You recalled how the cut was messy and hesitant whilst the rest were neat.

You recalled how it was done postmortem whilst the rest were the cause of death.

You ran out of Penelope’s office, straight to Dr Spencer Reid.

“Spence,” you shouted.

You were both alone in the room.

Spencer looked up from his phone. It was strange, to see him on a phone. You had always thought he was the type of person to hate technology. Instead, he seemed thoroughly invested in whatever was on his screen.

“Who are you messaging?” You asked, acting causal.

“No one,” he said.

Lie.

“A girl?”

“No.”

Lie.

Spencer’s face had gone bright red. It was cute; it made you smile.

Why did it make you smile?

You decided to change the topic before your face went red.

“Do you have the coroner’s report?” You questioned.

He dug through the many files covering his desk and held it up for you to see.

Blunt force to the frontal lobe, that confirmed your suspicions.

You stared into Spencer’s brown eyes.

“I know what happened to Sharon Lewis.”

You explained how it must have happened. Sharon was reported missing by her friend at 19:37. She was supposed to be meeting her a 18:00. Mitch Lewis was at a bar from 17:30-20:01, this was confirmed by camera footage. This means that Lewis can’t have kidnapped his wife. Or, perhaps, she never went missing. She tripped getting ready to see her friend and fell down the staircase. She would have died upon impact.

Spencer nodded in agreement with your theory.

“When Lewis got home and saw his wife’s body sprawled out at the base of the stairs, he saw an opportunity…”

“He dragged her downstairs to the basement, explaining the deep scratches on her back noted in the coroner’s report.” You said, “Lewis worked in construction, he had a table and tools down there, he said so in one of his interrogations. He placed her on that table and cut her. He butchered her. And then did the same to others to try and recreate the high of killing his wife.”

“We need to call Hotch.”

Four hours later and Mitch Lewis had confessed and was in police custody.

Derek and Emily had found Selene Harker chained to the very same table Lewis had carved his wife like a cold slab of meat.

The team was on their way back from Quantico.

You found Spencer sitting on a bench outside the FBI building. Spinning the silver ring your grandmother gave you around your index finger, you sat down next to him.

You both stared forward, at the road.

You were glad that you weren’t the only one who was affected by cases like this. You were glad that you weren’t the only one overwhelmed by empathy. Your mother once told you that empathy without boundaries was self-destruction but you were just glad that after so much time in this field, you still felt something.

Spencer eventually broke the silence.

“It scares me, Y/N, how easy a life can end.”

Spencer clutched his cane so tightly that his knuckles went white.

Gently, you eased one of his hands off it and held it in yours.

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears. It was deafening.

“You know, when I was a kid, I was always tripping over things. I walked into doors, tables, you name it. My mum would call me ‘Crash.’”

He laughed dryly whilst your world began to crumble around you.

You dropped Spencer’s hand.

“Sh-she called you what?”

Spencer turned to look at you, confusion and worry were etched across his face, “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

It’s not that you were upset, in fact, you felt almost the opposite of that.

Your voice was steadier than you expected when you spoke.

“He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson.”

“Y/N?”

“He is the organiser of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city.”

“It can’t be.”

Spencer held his face in his hands.

“Disappointed, Sherlock Holmes 1887?”

You said it mockingly but you were terrified of what Spencer would say.

“No, Napoleon of Crime. Not even a little bit.”

True.

“You told me to explain how I felt to that girl so here goes. The first thing I noticed about you was your smile. I saw it from the other side of the room. And, Y/N, it was contagious. Just looking at you made me smile. You are so beautiful and so intelligent and I have wanted to tell you how desperately I liked you since the day we met.”

He cradled your cheek with one hand.

“And now I know that this whole time, as well as being the person I can see myself falling in love with, you are my best friend, my favourite, my person.”

“I hate you, Spence,” you say just before you kiss him.

Smiling against your lips, you hear him whisper, “Lie.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mathew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jereau #penelope garcia #light angst #enemies to lovers

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drdemonprince · 4 months

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i was on NPR talking about Autism shit two weeks ago, and i have the book sales figures from that week and that national media appearance had.... absolutely zero relationship to sales. on the typical week these days, 1,400 to 1,500 copies of Unmasking Autism will sell. The week that I was on NPR there was a slight dip; only about 1,300 books were sold.

i have done a lot of press for my books. For Laziness Does Not Exist I did easily a 100 damn podcasts and radio shows and newspapers and excerpts in magazines. none of it corresponded to a noticeable bump in sales. the biggest "get" my publicist found for my latest book was the Glennon Doyle show, a booking she and her team celebrated and then spent months clamboring excitedly for... it, too, had no obvious relationship to sales.

Unmasking Autism became a bestseller because some other guy made a tiktok about it, and then a bunch of tiktokkers made videos about it too. all on their own. without any prodding from me, or any relationship to me. it was completely organic, passionate, and sincere, and rooted in the book's true merits and usefulness to other people, and that's why it inspired lots of sales. and continues to more than a year and a half later. all the press I did for Unmasking Autism prior to the release of that tiktok did relatively far less. NPR, Goop, the LA Times, Lit Hub, Jacobin, Huffpo, the New York Times, the Financial Times, MSNBC, Business Insider. Didn't matter. at least not much. so why do i bother?

publishers really ride your ass trying to make you give lots of interviews and show up for lots of events but it's all based on the worship of traditional media and magical thinking that it will somehow convert listeners into buyers. and that's just not how it works. the truth is 95% of books never sell more than 5,000 copies, and most people don't buy books or read them. i love reading but i dont think this is itself some terrible loss, as most books are padded-out commodities made for sale more than a work of true artistic passion or scholarly merit, and sometimes listening to a 90 minute interview with an author tells you the bulk of what you need to know.

it's freeing to know that the effort i put into getting my books out into the world have almost zero relationship to the books' success. marketing just does not work. it's a relief. unmasking autism did fabulously because it's actually both good and useful. laziness has had a long life span because it speaks to real problems in people's lives and gives them a message they are desperate to hear. but no amount of thirsty ass online shilling will make somebody realize that and it's maddening to try. you just gotta focus on doing good work, work that you enjoy making or need to make and that you feel good about, let things flop if theyre gonna flop, and keep on living your life.

which is all good news because i really do hate a lot of these fucking interviews. how can i stomach being on npr or in the atlantic or whatever these days given how complicit nearly all major media outlets are in justifying this genocide. like who fuckin cares about them, who wants their approval. who needs it. it's of no value

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 2 months

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Heeey ! If request are still open, can I ask for a father!reader that have lost their children and take care of the BAU like of they were his children ? I'm bad for explaining, but it's basically a reader that don't want to see anyone in the BAU die and take care of them like if they were his children-

Ignore it if you don't want to write it

And have a good day !!

I've set it out a little differently, idk lol. But this is an amazing idea I love it!

Warnings: Reid's one mentions food and not eating properly, Morgan's mentions violence, JJ's mentions grief of losing a child, Prentiss' discusses nail biting and skin picking.

Reid:

"Hey, Spence?" You chime, turning to the younger man. Reid's head shoots up.

"Yeah?"

"Have you eaten breakfast?"

"Yep," Reid nods, sipping his coffee.

"And that breakfast was...?"

"A doughnut and this coffee." Reid looks at you, slightly hesitantly. You just raise your eyebrows for a moment and sighed.

You fish through your bag, pulling out a protein bar, a packaged croissant, and a water. "Here,"

"(Y/N), you really don't need to-"

"Don't wanna hear it, Spence." You sat in the seat next to him, sipping on your own coffee. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

"Oh, yeah? And what did you have for breakfast?"

"That's not- we're talking about you-" Spencer rolled his eyes, passing you back the protein bar.

"I don't want to hear it."

Morgan:

"He really kicked the shit out of you, huh?" You said softly, pressing the cold compress against Morgan's head.

Derek winced, forcing himself not to pull away, knowing the compress would help. He doesn't say anything, just gives a small snort.

"You give as good as you got?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at the younger man. When Derek gives a soft nod, you let yourself smile. "Good."

Garcia:

"There she is!" You give Penelope a soft smile, offering her a coffee. "I got decaf, hope you don't mind."

"You know, despite popular belief, I'm pretty good at dealing with caffeine."

"You literally vibrate. Like actually, literally vibrate."

"That's just a glitch in the matrix."

"...So you don't want the drink and cookie of making amends?"

"I said I can deal with caffeine, I didn't say I was an idiot, gimme."

JJ:

When you found out JJ was pregnant, it was a bittersweet feeling. On the one hand, you were so excited for the young couple to settle down, for them to experience all their firsts together. But then came the bitter side of this.

Whilst you were overjoyed for them, it hurt. It hurt to see a young woman who reminded you so much of your daughter start a family, knowing you would never get the chance to be a grandad.

Prentiss:

You could generally tell when it started to get bad for Prentiss. Or at least when it started to get too much. She'd subtly bite at her nails, sometimes picking at them instead. Pulling at the skin around her nails, barely even flinching if it bled.

After Doyle, her nail biting got worse. As did the skin picking. You had made sure to keep a close eye on her throughout the case. N the jet ride back, she continued to pick at her skin and nails.

You give Hotch and Rossi a small nod as you place the book you were reading down gently. You slide into the seat opposite her.

"Hey."

Emily pauses picking at her fingers to look up at you.

"Hey."

"How are you feeling?"

You watch her debate whether or not to say anything. "It's just... it's been a rough case."

You nod, taking a moment before you reply. "How about I make us both a tea - decaf because otherwise we'll both be bouncing off the walls-"

"Speak for yourself, old man." She quips with a smirk.

You mock offence, placing a hand over your heart.

"Careful, you might actually give him a heart attack." Morgan chimes.

You scoff, "Rude. Anyways, I make us a tea and we can talk about it. Or, we can talk about Sergio."

"Sergio it is." Emily nods.

"Alright, tea coming right up."

"Can I get one?" JJ asks, sitting up straight, you give a small nod, grinning when Spencer chimes in.

"I'll take a tea if you're making,"

"You did just say I'd have a heart attack..." You pulled an unsure face, "I'm not sure if I should be rewarding that behaviour."

Rossi gives a smirk as you continue, "Just this once." Morgan gives a soft snort as you grin at him. "Aaron, you having one?"

"I'm okay, thank you." You nod, throwing him a bottle of water instead.

"You look dehydrated."

"He means you look like shit." Morgan teases quietly.

"I heard that."

Hotch:

"Sir, respectfully, if you don't sleep, I will hit you over the head with something to knock you the fuck out." You chime, sitting across from him. You opened your book (the latest one Reid had suggested you read), raising an eyebrows at the 'children' - read 'other team members' - as they snicker. "Oi, no giggling, y'all better sleep too."

"Y'all?" Morgan smirks.

"Less backchat, more sleepy times." Is all you respond with.

"You know I'm only a year younger than you, right?" Hotch raised an eyebrow.

"And yet here you are acting like Morgan."

"Hey-" Hotch and Morgan both gasp.

"Now, shut up and sleep."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Rossi chimes.

Prentiss snorts, "Yes Dads."

Rossi:

"Honestly Dave." You sighed, "Sometimes our kids can be a right pain in the ass."

"Tell me about it. We might have to ground them."

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #emily prentiss #david rossi #jennifer jareau #x male reader #penelope garcia #bau x reader #x reader #bau x male reader #reader #male reader #protective reader #dad reader #dad rossi

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alottiegoingon · 5 months

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like in the movies

van palmer x fem!reader

summary: friends to lovers with van.

warnings: van uses they/them pronouns, yellowjackets brief mention, reader uses reading glasses cause its cute, no crash, jackieshauna and lottienat mentioned, no smut but characters aged up anyway, just lots of fluff, not proofread

the memory of you as a middle schooler sneaking into the living room past midnight was still fresh inside your mind. with droopy eyes and your favorite blanket glued to your hand, you would tiptoe to the comfort of the warm armchair just so you could watch the creepiest horror movies that would definitely traumatize you. they were only exhibited late at night for a reason, you were aware of that. but you didn’t mind the nightmares and the terrifying feeling of being chased by an invisible monster every time you turned the lights off.

however, horror wasn’t the only thing you were obsessed with. you've always imagined how it would feel like to love someone like they showed in those stupid romance movies, daydreaming about finding the right person that would share the same interests as you. so romantic. in high school, it got even worse thanks to the teeth rotting sweet romcoms you desperately devoured and the immesurable hours you spent in the book store trying to find new romantic novels.

lucky for you, amid all your friends that were actually living in the real world instead of creating perfect scenarios inside their heads, you weren't alone.

you met van palmer in literature class. you used to sit right by their side and, despite your love for books, you wouldn't ever dare to say a word. van was the complete opposit, they weren't scared of sharing their opinions. many of your classmates would prepare themselves to hear the countless words of van palmer, slumping onto their desks, but you were always excited.

you instantly became friends when they first defended you in class when the teacher suggested a polarizing topic; comic books. unlike a few of your classmates, one of your favorite ways to spend the weekend was to read a bunch of comics. spider-man was your favorite. he had a pretty fun costume and could fly, hanging to spider webs. so nice!

"everyone knows that comics aren't as good as books. they are made for lazy people who can't read anything longer than ten pages." the guy sitting in front of you made sure to look back as he whispered, lips twisting into an arrogant grin.

"i don't think she cares about the opinion of someone who did an entire essay of arthur conan doyle thinking that sherlock holmes was a real person." van intervened, leaning closer to you but staring at him, before you could have a say. you shift your attention to the redhead with their head slightly bent to the right, raised chin and brows and firm jaw.

"i just got confused!" he defended himself using an irritated tone, surprised by van being able to hear him, not waiting any longer to look back at the teacher and leave you alone.

"don't listen to him. that guy is a knob." their quiet voice is followed by a change in their expression, face softening along with relaxed muscles.

you were surprised that someone as cool and as smart as them would defend you so quickly.

"thank you." you murmur timidly as your mind desperately tried to find something cooler to say than just a simple thank you.

"sure. i'm van, by the way." you watch van extending their hand in your direction and you don't think twice before greeting them.

"hi." you whisper, trying to stay away from your teacher's aim and not interrupt her. "i know. i like how you always talk in class. it's so cool."

for you, that was the second you made a friend. for van, it was the second they fell in love with someone who didn't think their opinions were annoying.

[📓]

things happened pretty quickly after that. you created the perfect excuse to talk to them again, scared that you weren't nearly as rad as they were; a book club. except for the tiny detail that it wasn't exactly a club, just the two of you reunited in the small office in your house with cookies and tea.

"gosh, you look like an old lady." was what van always said to tease you. sitting just a few inches away, they would cautiously look at you with reading glasses and emma by jane austen in hands.

"this old lady here is getting to page 221 so you should hurry up!"

once or twice, you would look up to take a quick break from reading just to discreetly glance at van. it wasn't rare the times that they would catch your stare. sometimes it was the other way around and you could swear that van had their eyes on you the entire time.

from books and comics to movies, you shared a lot of similar interests. you were completely obsessed with the book and movie misery from 1990 and you often forced van to watch it with you. you knew all the details and fun facts from the movie and, of course, loved kathy bates.

"we've seen this so many times that i think kathy bates is actually visiting me in my dreams!" van complained over and over about the tedious movie choice with their mouth full of popcorn.

van would see the effort behind every movie and fall in love with the story of every character. watching misery, on the other hand, was such a common occurrence that they could spot the colors of the movie already stained on the insides of the tv.

"it wasn't that much!" you rolled your eyes at them but felt your lips involuntarily curling up. you would always laugh at the silly things van used to say.

"okay, fine." you give in after half a second, getting up from the couch. you didn't want to torture them that badly.

you got closer to the tv, removing the vhs tape of one of your favorite movies and securing them inside the small box. you were ready to let van decide, maybe even excited to watch something new.

"wait, van, where are the others?" you feel a whiff of desperation as you notice the absent tapes. van was in charge of renting them every friday. the feeling you had when getting lost in a bookstore or a library was van's feeling when they were surrounded by some old classic vhs tapes and a world of movies that you two would probably never get to see.

"oh, crap! i think i forgot all of them at home. sorry, i was in a rush." you sigh in relief, soothed by not being the responsible for losing them.

"then it looks like kathy bates will be visiting you again tonight." you tease van, looking at them sinking into your couch with a mischievous grin. you were going to give van a chance to choose movies, you really were. but it wasn't your fault if they forgot to bring the other vhs tapes.

"lord help me..." they whispered, dramatically covering their ears when the intro song started, making you giggle. too excited with your favorite movie and too focused on it, you didn't even caught van's eyes on you, watching you completely fascinated by the small screen.

little did you know that the tapes were buried on van's backpack, hidden under books, pens and the soccer uniform.

[📓]

van was just as cool as you thought. maybe even more. much more. they would help you study after class, follow you to parties even though they hated it just to make sure you were safe (and to judge people with you right after), walk you home and read comics with you.

after your first kiss, that happened during a date in the movie theater as you were watching the craft in 96, van knew that they had to make something special to ask you to be their girlfriend immediately.

they spoke to shauna, asking for ideas. they knew that shauna was the best with words and romantic letters, always gifting her girlfriend jackie with those. they were dating for three years now, shauna had to have gome good tips. it took van two days to realize that writing pretty words on a paper wasn't exactly their talent after not being able to write anything except "hi, it's van".

that would be an awful letter.

then, van asked lottie; their best friend. lottie was dating natalie for almost a year now.

"i don't know, lot. this looks hard..." van was careful when questioning their friend, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

"it's not, really! and she's gonna love it, it's so cute." lottie reassured van while shoving lots of colored paper sheets into their hands.

"nat loves when i make her those cute paper rings when im bored during french class. she even wears them all the time!" lottie pointed to natalie in the back with at least four paper rings in their fingers. lottie sucked at french and she was always bored. evidently, natalie had a long collection of paper rings at this point.

the blondie was definitely threatening van with her eyes while they were trying so hard to not laugh at the situation.

van got home and the first thing they did was practice for hours, folding the paper multiple times and hoping that that mess would eventually turn into a paper ring. and, damn, they were wrong, again.

neither of those things worked for van and they wanted to do something special and good enough to make you happy. something important that would make your heart beat faster. something that matched your personality.

the hardest part was to keep it a secret, van was a huge blabbermouth. always enthusiastic and determined to make you laugh, it was tough to create excuses for not showing up to your typical movie nights. they were just too tired in the aftermath of spending days and nights creating you something.

"are you mad?" you suddenly ask them, impatiently untangling yourself from them. van, who had their arm around your shoulder as you were cuddling in the couch, gave you a baffled look. "you didn't show up last friday, i thought you were going to choose the movie this time."

"i'm not mad, i promise. i'm doing something important and i didn't have time to rent anything." van was a complete softie, almost pouting like a baby.

"more important than me?"

and that was what van needed to spill everything. it wasn't their fault, they just couldn't handle seeing you upset!

"of course not! look!" van left the couch in a blink of an eye, anxiously digging into their backpack for what they were working on.

"i was making you something. i was waiting for a better moment but i guess the moment is now." they chuckled awkwardly. you notice their shaky and sweaty hands clumsily holding at least three vhs tapes and a comic book.

"i wanted to give you something special to ask you something and i tried writing something or those stupid hard paper rings that lottie gives natalie but it didn't fit us. so i spoke to the lady that runs the video store and i actually bought your favorite movies so we can watch it together and, huh..." they look at their own hands, realizing that they forgot to mention the comics. "oh, and the new spider-man comic book cause i know you like it."

"are you serious?" it was your turn to frown your lips, eyes brimming with tears. while you were melting, van was terrified and inspecting your face for any signs that could tell them that you had liked it.

"thank you, van. i love this. i love spider-man, i love watching movies with you. i can't believe you bought those, it must have cost a fortune." you approach van and help their nervous self to handle you the movies and the brand new shiny comic. you smile tenderly at van, using your free hand to gently stroke their cheek.

"i wanted you to feel special." van says in a barely audible and still overwhelmed tone. "and i was wondering that maybe, if you aren't too busy with books and kathy bates, you would like to be my girlfriend?" their cheeks were matching the tone of their hair now.

"i think i can break up with kathy bates and give you a chance." you laugh, laying your presents on the coffee table. in a second, you wrap your arms around van's neck to bring them closer and press your lips against theirs.

[📓]

"that's so unfair! why can't i be spider-man?" you whine, following van around your bedroom as they were holding your costume for halloween.

"because i wanna be your favorite, obviously." van place the costumes on your bed to give you full atention. your effort to look sad in order to convice them went down the drain when their arms held your waist, fingers carefully squeezing your skin.

"and because spider-man is the lucky guy who gets to kiss the pretty and smart girl." they murmur proudly, knowing that they had won.

"i hate you." you feel your cheeks getting warm as you fight against a beaming smile, leaning in for a kiss.

#i want them.#van palmer #van palmer x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets

143 notes · View notes

aperrywilliams · 1 year

Text

More Than You Know (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credit to the creator)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: You’re Spencer's best friend. You have gone through many things together, but after Spencer is incarcerated, things turn different for both of you. Not to mention you have been in love with him for a long time too. How much will you endure until you can’t take it anymore?

Word Count: 5.9k

TW: ANGST. Strong language. Mention of abduction, drug use, getting shot, death of relatives and loved ones, jail, pregnancy, unsafe sex, and potential cheating. All the deal!

A/N: Not a happy ending, at least for Spencer and Reader. Do you think they could have a chance in the future? (I wrote it as a one-shot, but it makes me kind of sad). Let me know what you think.

Part 2: More Than You Say

Part 3: More Than You Expect (the end)

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I don’t have the habit of arriving early at work. I only do it when it is strictly required. I’m not a morning person. I have never been. So you can guess how my mood turns dark when people push me to let go of some minutes of my precious morning sleep, even when Spencer is the one who asks me to.

He called me this morning at 6 am, telling me he needed to talk to me in person. So we agreed to grab a coffee in our usual place before work.

"Thanks for coming," Spencer greets me when I arrive. A harsh expression adorns his features while I sit in the booth before him.

I can’t help the yawn escaping my lips.

“Did I have a choice?” I ask, gesturing to the barista for my regular order.

“I need to talk to you,” he prefaces, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He looks distressed. I narrow my eyes, thinking about what could be causing it.

“Yeah, that’s what you said by phone when you woke me up this morning. Why you didn’t tell me there what’s going on?”

“I couldn't tell you by phone,” he excuses himself as the barista approaches and hands me my coffee. I thank her, returning my gaze to my friend.

My mind starts racing with possibilities, and my heartbeat picks up its rate.

“Something happened to your mom?” I ask cautiously. Spencer shakes his head immediately.

“No. My mom is okay.”

Well, that discards a big issue so that I can breathe a little.

“Nightmares again?”

I can recall how bad nightmares could be for Spencer. Since Hankel and passing by Emily’s dead, Maeve, and then prison, Spencer is a lightning rod for nightmares.

“No. Not in a while.”

Good. Another bad thing out of the list.

“Headaches?”

A big issue that worsened after Doyle stabbed Emily and led Spencer to Maeve.

“No. I’m good with that.”

Okay, I’m running out of options here. Is it the job?

“The bureau wants you to take longer sabbaticals?”

“No! Not that either.”

I give up. I don’t think anything is important enough to make me be here before 7 am.

“Spencer, I’m lost. Just tell me what’s going on,” I urge, running out of patience and dying to know what this is about.

"It's about Alison," he clarifies, and I can’t help but groan.

Seriously? The problem is a girl?

"Alison?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, the girl I'm seeing lately?" He adds to help my recall. I know Alison, but I won't waste a chance to mess with Spencer, especially considering he made me up early for this.

"I'm sorry. I don't remember that one. I lost track after Lonna," I shrug. Spencer rolls his eyes, knowing what I’m doing.

"Not now, (Y/N). This is important,” he scolds.

I look at him incredulously. What could be so important about a girl he's seeing?

"Okay, okay. Don't be so dense. What happens with the gorgeous Alison?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

"She may be pregnant," he suddenly says with a grimace.

"What?!" I squeal, almost choking on the coffee in my mouth. Spencer looks around us to see if someone is listening to our conversation.

"Shush! You wanna me repeat what I just said?" he whisper-shouts.

"Come on, Spencer. You must be kidding me.”

I take a napkin to clean the mess I made with my coffee.

“I’m afraid I’m not.”

“How come you, from all the people, don't know what birth control and condoms are?"

Spencer's cheeks flush. He is embarrassed, but his need to confide in someone is greater.

This is eating him alive.

"May I forget to use one a while ago? I mean, we were in a rush, and-" I cut him off.

"No. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to know the details of your sex life. I'm just concerned about how reckless you have become, honestly.”

The last part isn’t intended to sound that rough. Spencer is a grown man who can do whatever he pleases with his life, but I‘m worried about him. Since prison happened, he has been stumbling and making poor decisions, including fooling around with women.

Spencer's gaze drops to the floor, just like a child being scolded by his parents. I hate to see him like this. I hate to see him hurting and lost. So I recant my grown-up role this time.

"Spencer, look at me." I pause until his eyes meet mine. "I'm sorry if it was harsh; I'm just worried, okay? Now tell me, Alison told you?"

He shakes his head.

"Not directly. But she told me she's been feeling sick, and this morning I - I heard her throwing up. And I am almost sure she didn't have her period last month," Spencer recounts each fact as his breathing picks up.

Great. A panic attack is what I needed now.

"Hey, hey. Just breathe, okay?" I urge, calling his attention. He nods and slowly does what I say.

After a minute, he starts to feel better to speak.

"What should I do?" Spencer groans, with both hands grabbing his head.

In a twisted way, I found the scene comical.

Spencer is asking me what to do. To me.

I mean, what could I even tell him? He's my friend, but this is far ahead of what I could advise someone for.

Let alone someone who I have feelings for.

Yeah. That's the hard truth.

Cliche as it sounds, I have feelings for my best friend. A man who will never reciprocate those feelings. That's how fuck up the situation is.

But after years of keeping that secret, I learned how to mask everything for the sake of our friendship and our jobs.

"For starters, we don't know if she is pregnant. Maybe it is just your paranoia. We must be sure, so you must ask her," I instruct. Spencer looks at me in horror as if I just said he needed to jump from the 20th floor.

"What? No! I can't do that!"

"You can, and you will. You can't keep stressing out about something you don't even know!"

"And what if she is? I should marry her?" My eyes widened at that.

And the people call him a genius.

"Spencer, don't rush to the next town when you haven't stepped in this one first. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You both need to talk and decide if things turn that way, okay?"

He lets out a deep exhale.

"Okay. Okay. You're right."

Even if I want to slap him right now, I know I will never do it. Squeezing his shoulder affectionately, I let out my following words.

"You'll figure it out. Whatever it is, you'll know what to do, and I'll be by your side, okay? You're not alone."

Spencer looks at me with gratitude and a hint of relief. He knows I’m genuine in my statement. He knows I’ll be by his side no matter what.

It always has been that way.

We joined the team almost at the same time. While Jason Gideon recruited Spencer, Aaron Hotchner recruited me. Gideon insisted that Spencer’s brain and knowledge about everything would be an enormous asset to the team. Hotch did the same with me, pointing out how my interpersonal skills and impressive field experience would be valuable to the job. Different reasons, same outcome: being the newest made us closer. And not a long time after, we became best friends.

I was there when Spencer got abducted by Tobias Hankel. I was there when he struggled with his drug addiction. I consoled him when Gideon left and then when he died years later. I cared for him when he got shot in the knee and neck. We cried together when Emily ‘died.’ And after what happened to Maeve, I was there for all steps on the way. The last straw was Mexico and the three months in Millburn. I never missed a visit, and I was by his side when he had to talk to Cat Adams.

And the same way I have been for him, he has been for me. A few months after I joined the team, I got shot in the shoulder, and Spencer helped me a lot. He rode the ambulance with me when I got shot again in the abdomen three years later. He was with me when my dad passed away. Spencer comforted me when one of my long-term boyfriends dumped me. He took a serious role in rooting for me whenever I doubted myself in the job and life.

We know each other like the palm of our hands.

Everybody would have thought our friendship was forged to everlast. And I‘m still adamant about making it that way, even if after a few years of knowing each other, I realized I‘m in love with Spencer. How could I not?

Even at some point, those feelings could have been reciprocal. I noticed things between us changed after Hotch and Morgan left the team.

The stolen glances, the little touches, the overprotectiveness, the subtle flirting. I indulged myself with the idea that it was a natural turn to us be more than friends.

But then Mexico happened.

And things changed for Spencer and me.

The moment we understood what happened and that Spencer would be locked until we could find who did this to him, I didn't rest. I didn't sleep. I barely eat. But I put a brave face on him. I knew he was having the worst time there, so I was who encouraged him every chance I got.

But it didn't matter how hard we tried, how hard I tried. Spencer locked himself and didn't let anyone in. The day he was released, I hugged him first and felt some normalcy. He said how much he missed me, how much he missed us all.

Things went well for a while, but I could tell Spencer wasn't okay. He talked less; he looked distant and disaffected. Sure, Spencer was trying to cope with everything. And as before, I tended my hand to him to hold. And in a way, he took it, but not how it would help him heal.

Our relationship turned instrumental, at least for him.

He started failing in the job, lying to Emily about his whereabouts when he ran late. His mind was distracted more often. If he was reckless at the job before, now it was worse. He snapped more too. And for every time, I was there to cover him up. That's how everyone assumed he was still finding his balance, but I wasn't so sure.

Things worsened when Spencer discovered sex was an excellent way to release frustration. At first, I didn't think it could be a big deal. Getting laid wasn't a big deal. Not ideal for me, but I suppressed my jealousy for his sake. I would choose his well-being ten thousand times before my stupid love for him.

Still, things have not improved. Almost a year after Millburn, Spencer keeps stumbling, getting into trouble, and does not act as he should. I know I have my responsibility quote, but I'm too involved in this cycle to break it.

I want to say at least I have my friend, but that isn’t entirely true. Every time I have needed him in the past year, he hasn't been there. I could tell he hadn’t even noticed I had been losing weight or the doctor’s appointment I had to attend for feeling sick.

I’m alone by myself. It's sad, but I can’t force him. I’m not like that. I would never beg for affection from anyone who doesn’t want to give it, even if I needed it. People would say it is the wrong way, but I cannot be otherwise.

Some days after our coffee shop conversation, Spencer rushes to my desk to tell me the ‘good news.’ False alarm. Alison isn’t pregnant.

Spencer looks relaxed and relieved. Maybe it’s the wake-up call he needs to slow down. My hope is short-lived, though, because while he tells me everything, his phone ding. A smirk appears on his face when he sees the incoming text.

“What is it?” I ask, and Spencer bites his lower lip.

“I have a date,” he answers, typing on his phone.

“With Alison?” I narrow my eyes. He looks at me when he’s done sending the message.

“No! Of course not. I’m not going to make the same mistake again. I told her I needed time to think,” he explains like he’s talking about the weather.

“So you’re going to meet another girl without breaking up with Alison?”

“You can’t break up with someone you’re not officially involved with,” Spencer shrugs.

I want to kill him right now.

“God, Spencer. What are you doing?”

The question is primarily rhetorical, but Spencer answers nonetheless.

“Living, (Y/N). I’m living for the first time in my life.”

Can I argue with that logic? Sure. There is so much I can tell him. But I’m tired. Spencer doesn't see or hear reasons. Not even from me. It seems I have lost the privilege of being listened to by him.

Since that talk, I can’t stop thinking about what I am doing. Am I clasping onto something it doesn't exist anymore?

I don’t know the answer, and I don’t know if I want to get one. I’m just holding until I can’t do it anymore.

And that's how time flies. Things look relatively the same, and I'm just trying to float so I don't drown.

We just ended a gruesome case in Arizona. Our jet landed an hour ago, and everyone is in the mood for a drink. Rossi and Matt are the only ones with excuses to go home early.

Once there, Penelope grabs Luke’s hands and drags him to the dance floor. JJ offers to get us some drinks. Emily volunteers to help her.

Spencer is quiet, looking at me, but I barely notice. My mind is elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” He asks. The question takes me by surprise. In the past weeks, we haven’t talked that much.

“Yeah. Good. The case, you know?”

Spencer nods, but I see the worry lingering.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

I want to say I believe him, but I don’t. It’s been months since I felt that close to him. But even if I don’t believe him, I may voice my concern again.

“I don’t know,” I preface, and Spencer’s attention is full on me. It's weird, to say the least, but I will take the chance. “There is this thing bugging me. About our-” I can’t end my idea before the sound of someone squealing ‘Spencer!’ reach our ears.

The man in question snaps his head up. It's Alison. Before I can say anything, he stands, and after mumbling a ‘sorry,’ he goes to the girl calling his name.

There it goes. Nothing. Again.

I sigh before sipping my drink. What was I hoping, anyway?

JJ and Emily return to our table and ask for Spencer. Not even looking behind, I gesture to my back. They understand.

We set for drinking and complaining about whatever comes to mind. I know they know, but they are respectful enough not to push me.

The night is progressing, and I enroll in conversation with Luke and Penelope when they return from their dancing. After they leave, Emily cracks jokes to make me laugh, and JJ does her best to lose a little.

The sound of glass crushing gets our attention to the bar. There he was. Spencer is between two girls who are arguing about something. I recognize Alison, but not the other one.

“Ups. Someone is in trouble,” Emily mused. JJ shakes her head in a disapproving mood. I see Spencer’s eyes darting between the girls and trying to soothe the argument, failing miserably.

I ponder my options. I can leave him to deal with his mess for once or give him a hand. Emily reads my mind.

“Are you sure?” she asks. I shrug, standing from my spot.

“I wouldn’t like to see him complaining because one of those girls broke a bottle on his head.”

I stroll to where the action is happening, morphing my annoyed look into a confident one.

"Hey baby, I was looking for you!” I chirp, using the most loving voice as my arms wrap around Spencer’s torso.

The girls don’t look happy with my intrusion.

"We were talking with Spencer," Alison says as if I don't know that.

"Yeah, he was about to explain who he’ll choose between us," the other girl adds.

If I could have rolled my eyes, I would do it. Are they that naive? But they have a point: maybe Spencer would do what they want under pressure, even if he doesn't like it. That's why I‘m here. I know him.

"I'm so sorry, girls, but you got it wrong. This man is mine, and believe me when I tell you, you should be walking away right now. You don't want to mess with me, his wife, and the mother of his child waiting for us at home, right baby?" Now I talk to him.

Spencer's mouth goes agape, even more than Alison's and the other girl's.

"Your what?!" Alison yells. Her eyes are a few inches to pop out of their sockets.

"You have a child?!" The other looks as shocked as Alison.

Spencer only stutters incoherent words. They aren’t needed, though. After cursing him and letting out a bunch of expletives, both girls stomp out of the bar.

That’s when I notice I still have my arms around him. I pull away and clear my throat.

"You're welcome," I say before turning into my heels.

Spencer wraps my wrist to stop me. His eyes are curious, examining my features as if reading me. I return an annoyed look.

"What?"

"Why did you do it?" He asks as if he is really intrigued by my actions. It may feel more natural for me than for him.

"To save your ass? Come on, Reid. They would have eaten you alive," I scoff. Spencer chuckles, knowing that it is what could have happened.

"Yeah. But why you saved my ass? You could have feasted with the scandal."

I shrug. For a second, it crossed my mind just to be honest and give him a piece of my mind. But it‘s dangerous territory, so I opt for the safer way.

"That's what the friends are for. Even if you deserve being kicked in your ass sometimes," I try to sound light like it isn’t a big deal.

"Friends, uh?" Spencer points, mulling my words. I don't know why that specific word interests him, but I don’t read into it. "Well, thank you, then."

Now he is grinning as if a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

"You're going home?" I ask, thinking Spencer only wants to disappear from the bar after the recent events. He narrows his eyes and shakes his head like I’m talking nonsense.

"No. Not when I'm free to have a good time, at last."

"What?"

"Do you see those girls over there?" He points with his look to a group of women giggling and drinking on the opposite side of the bar.

My stomach drops to my feet as I look at him in disbelief.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"To you? I would never. You're my best friend. Thanks again," Spencer says warmly before kissing my cheek and strolling to the group he has spotted.

And here I am, standing in the middle of the bar, with words stuck in my throat and the feeling that the last 10 minutes hadn't even happened. The bartender stares at me with that empathetic look that reflects more pity than anything else. I look back at him and ask for a drink. Since I’m there, I won’t waste the chance of alcohol replacing the burning I already feel in my stomach.

"Don't tell me. You saved his ass just to let him have the chance to screw it up again," Emily summarizes when I return to the table with my drink. Both have seen all the action in the bar that transpired a while ago.

"That's what the friends are for, right?" I mockingly parrot my own words. JJ scoffs.

"I don't doubt your loyalty to Spence. But don't you think it's too much? I mean, you cover him in all your capacities, and he's not taking any responsibility for his actions," she proffers. Emily nods in agreement.

"He has been through a lot. He's lost and needs help," I argue, sipping my vodka.

"We know that. But it's time Spencer takes the reign of his life. Also, it's time you focus on your own," Emily says, pointing her index finger at me.

"What do you mean?" I ask defensively.

And there are again the pity looks.

"We know you have feelings for him. That's more than friendship, we can tell. But it's not going anywhere, and you know it. When was the last time you dated, uh?" JJ questions. Her words stab me right in my chest. I let out a deep sigh.

"Exactly." Emily seconds. "You need to think about what's healthy for you. That doesn't mean you don't care about Spencer, but he must figure it out himself."

As a cue, I turn to look at the bar direction. Spencer wraps his arm around a girl's waist, his lips ghosting her ear, whispering God knows what but making the girl giggle.

JJ and Emily are right. I’m not genuinely helping him. It is just the faint hope that I could make him see me. Really see me.

After another drink with the girls, I decide to go home.

And I decide it is time to let him go.

But honestly speaking, what does that mean? It's not that feelings can disappear overnight. It's not that one day you wake up and say, "That's enough." At the end of the day - feelings aside - Spencer is my friend, and he trusts me even in his darkest moments. But the girls are right when they say friendship goes both ways. It doesn't work if he can't respect my boundaries.

So I went over my limits. What am I willing to tolerate, and what am I not? In the first place, I won’t cover him up in lies in front of the team anymore. If he has to take a scolding from Emily for being irresponsible, so be it. Second, I won’t put up with being the go-to person for any of his mess with women. And finally, I’m not going to justify his behavior to anyone. If anyone has a problem with him, they should tell him directly. I would no longer be an interlocutor between Spencer Reid and the rest of the world.

It didn’t pass long before those limits were tested again.

Some days after what happened at the bar, I arrived at the BAU for a new case. We scheduled the meeting in the conference room at 9:00.

It’s 9:05, and Spencer still has yet to arrive. As expected, everyone is asking me what happened to Reid. I shrug. At the same time, Spencer texts me, saying he is running late and asking me to say he had a problem on the subway. I know it isn’t true, so I pretend I never got the message. That brought him explaining himself to Emily when he arrived all disheveled at 9:30.

Things like that keep happening. Spencer keeps showing up late for work and lies about the reasons. Sometimes he is nowhere to see in the bullpen, only to reappear with his hair untamed and his shirt partially untucked. Those times, opposite to the previous ones, I don’t tell him to fix himself.

Not to mention the number of calls and texts he has sent me in unholy hours to ask me what he should do about his new conquers. Calls and texts I start to ignore. That last behavior is what he resented the most, I could tell.

One morning he shows up at the conference room where I’m checking a stack of files scattered over the table. The rest of the team minding their own business downstairs.

"Are you mad at me?" He bluntly asks. I raise an eyebrow, looking at him from my manila folder.

"No. I'm not,” I reply, unbothered. But if I know Spencer enough, he will not be satisfied with my answer.

"Yes, you are. You have been avoiding me. Last night I called you, and you didn't answer."

He is the one mad at me. Or at least upset. Which one was it? It doesn’t matter; he feels ignored, and he hates it.

"I was sleeping,” I answer with the same flat tone. That spurs more of his anger.

"That's not true. You don't hit the pillow before 1 am!"

Well, Spencer does pay attention, at least for that kind of thing. Months ago, I would have felt flattered. Now? It feels void and just to his service.

"Maybe last night I did."

Spencer scoffs this time.

"I don't think so. I know you (Y/N),” he defies. Maybe he thought I would bite the bullet and apologize for ignoring him.

"Whatever. Why you called me, anyway? Did you want to tell me how your new girl screamed your name in bed?" I deadpan.

Spencer’s eyes widened.

"What?! No! I- I just,” he pauses. “I just wanted to talk to you!"

“Why?” I interject.

I’m so tired of this. I’m tired of the real reasons why Spencer needs me.

His face flushes, thinking of his following words.

“I - uh. We haven’t talked in a long time. Our last movie night was a month ago. And you haven’t called me either. I miss you,” he mumbles.

I huff a laugh. Does he really think I would believe that?

“You see me every day here, Reid,” I say with the same monotonous tone, returning my gaze to the file I’m reading.

Reid. That should have been the sign he searches for, even if his mind isn’t clear enough to put two and two together.

He scoots closer, softly bending down the file in my hands.

“(Y/N), hey. Please, talk to me. Don’t let me in the dark,” he pleads. I turn my gaze away from him. The sadness and the anger boil inside. It’s exhausting.

“I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. I want to fix it. Tell me what it is,” Spencer insists, this time with a hand over mine.

I glance at him in silence. Could a look be enough to convey everything stuck in my chest? Years ago, it could have worked with Spencer. The friendship we had back then was stronger enough to make that happen. Just a look, and each one knew what the other was thinking. Now it is just noise that could or not mean something.

How he looks at me now, lost in the signs I‘m giving him and eager for me to say something, tells me what I already know. I wonder if I would let it out this time or bottle it up again.

“I’m just tired, you know?”

My mouth works on its own accord. My brain isn’t able to stop it. Spencer examines my face looking for something to anticipate what could be coming. His clueless is irritating.

“I’m tired of hoping you can realize how badly you hurt yourself—and waiting for you to do something about it,” I blurt, knowing this is not what he wants to hear.

“What do you mean?” He asks, leaning back in a defensive mode.

“You know exactly what I mean. You are failing yourself, Spencer. You still can’t stand your ground. And you keep ignoring it!”

I punctuate my statement by shoving the file over the table. Spencer gets startled by my action.

“If you are talking about what happened the other night in the bar. It doesn't -” He explains, but I cut him off.

“No! It's everything! Can’t you see it? It's the way you lie to your teammates, the way you do your job, like it doesn't matter to you. The way you turn everything into something meaningless. The relationships you have, your job, your friends. Everything!”

Spencer’s face steels. I know he doesn't like being called out. He hates that. But I wouldn’t spare him the trouble this time.

“You are being unfair (Y/N),” he says with gritted teeth, standing to put some distance from me.

“Am I? Oh, no. If something I’m sure of is the unfairness doesn't fall on me.”

I spit back, standing as well to show him I wouldn’t back off. After running his hands through his hair, he turns to me. He has a look of betrayal on him.

Betrayal? The audacity of this man.

"Yes! You are! You, better than anyone, know it hasn't been easy for me! Life - life in Millburn changed me, and it has been so difficult to settle it down. You know that! Those were the worst three months of my life!"

Millburn. It was like a prohibited word for us. He didn't like to say it or hear it from me.

"So that gives you the right to ruin the good things in your life, uh? Because you are a lost soul in this world?” I try to reason, but that only gives me a burlesque laugh from him.

"And what if it were so? It's not like I have much to lose, right?"

And there it is—the broken man. The guy who still believes no one loves him and he doesn't deserve to be loved. All the years of work to put those walls down returned to zero after he got imprisoned.

"Do you really believe that? Do you really believe your self-destructive behavior only affects you? I didn't think you were so selfish, Spencer."

Although I know the answer, I ask nonetheless. And even though I know that selfishness isn’t something Spencer deliberately wants, maybe voicing it could help me to bring him back.

“Selfish? Says the person I trusted with my life, and now it’s throwing everything back to me?”

Or not.

“Stop doing that! Stop assuming everyone is attacking you! If we need to blame someone, of course, we can blame Cat Adams. But now she’s dead, Spencer! And what about you? For God’s sake! You had endured so much in your life, and now you’re going to let that bitch keep destroying you from the grave?”

My voice gets hoarse from the yelling, and for the first time during this conversation, Spencer doesn't spit something back immediately.

The hurt expression on his face morphs into defeat. He doesn't want to fight back. He doesn’t want to get out of the hole.

We keep looking at each other silently, daring the other to say anything.

Spencer tries to mask his glassy eyes, breaking eye contact and looking at the ceiling. And seeing him like this spurs the desire to run and hug him, holding him. But I can’t. I swore not to back down.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). But this is who I am now,” he mumbles after a few minutes.

I exhale sharply. Why is it so difficult for him to understand?

“Keep telling yourself that, but deep down, you know it's not true,” I argue, but with no energy to keep yelling. But it's like fuel to Spencer’s anger.

“Why do you care anyway? Is it because you are my friend?” He mockingly air quotes the word ‘friend.’ “Well, it seems my friendship doesn't satisfy you anymore, does it?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? You are not comfortable with the person I am. You don't want my company anymore. You don’t trust me. It's very clear to me.”

I need to get out of here before I say something I may regret or Spencer does it burying any chance of us being okay again.

“Where are you going? Doesn’t feel okay hearing the truth, (Y/N)?”

“You are angry, and we can’t keep talking like this,” I mumbled, trying to pass to the exit door.

“Are you chicken out now? That's how you understand loyalty?” Spencer calls me out this time. He’s testing me, and I can’t take it anymore.

“Don’t question my loyalty. If anything, loyalty is what you have been getting from me since always! Don’t you dare to doubt it!”

My voice is going to break at any minute, and I don’t know what to do to push away this suffocating feeling.

”Let me have suspicions about that,” he scoffs, and I want to cry.

How unfair. How painful.

“Oh no, no, no. Not that. You know what? I’m done. Fuck you, Spencer! Fuck you and your fucking cluelessness and self-loathing. I have been by your side in thick and thin. I have given you everything!”

I bet my screaming is being heard throughout the entire floor right now, but I don’t fucking care. I’m not going to stop right now. “God! Even I would have died for you! But you don’t deserve anything of it. You don’t deserve my loyalty and much less my love.”

I notice how Spencer’s eyes widen with my last sentence.

“Your what,” he barely mumbles.

The secret is out. But it's too late. I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath.

“Yes. You heard right. I said, ‘My love.’ Because I fucking love you. I have been in love with you for ages! But I chose our friendship above all, and what I got? A friend who can’t see beyond his shit. Hell, everyone’s right. I deserve better!”

I can’t stop the tears from springing, and I hate myself for not being stronger to endure this.

“(Y/N)… why you didn't tell me?”

He's being cautious and slowly tries to approach, reaching for my hand.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“(Y/N),” he tries again. “We can talk about this, please.”

I hate this. I don't want his pity. Honestly, I don't want anything at all. I thought saying the truth would help me to lift a weight from my shoulders. Now I just want to run anywhere in the world where nobody knows me. I’m sick, and being by his side, in any capacity, would no do better to me.

“No. We can’t. Too little too late, Spencer. I’m done. I really hope you can find whatever you're looking for. I hope you do. You deserve to be happy. And so do I. Take care, okay? And I’m sorry for lying to you. I told you I’ll always be by your side, but I can’t. Not like this.”

I look at him for the last time, patting his shoulder and giving him a sad smile. He doesn't say anything; he only stands there, following my steps with his gaze until I reach the door and shut it behind me.

——————

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!bau!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #more than you know #aperrywilliams

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mochinek0 · 10 months

Text

Daminette December 2023: 1-Mystery Theatre

"Welcome back to 'The Mystery Box'." Marinette declared, "I'm Ladybug."

"Robin." Damian stated.

"Now, last week we were going over The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Afterwards, there was a list of recommended books posted.

1.)The Puzzle Master by Danielle Trussoni

2.)The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides

3.)Bullet Train and 4.)Three Assassins, both written by Kotaro Isaka and translated by Sam Malissa

5.)The Word is Murder by Anthony Horowitz

And for the more adventurous, 6.)Helter Skelter: the True Story of the Mason Murders by Vincent Bugliosi, Curt Gentry

You were also free to recommend your own favorite tastes for mysteries and crime. Today, we have special case in 'The Mystery Box' and I have a feeling everyone will like this one." she smiled.

Robin sighed, "That's what I'm afraid of."

"We know that many people have already left or are heading home for the holidays." Ladybug began, "So we thought of something-"

Robin sneered, "You thought of something."

"Don't get your feather's in a twist, Bird Boy." Ladybug cooed, "We wanted something everyone could enjoy; no matter how far. Today the mystery is: Ladybug and Robin! You are allowed to send in your questions, but if we feel something is too personal or close to giving away who we are, the question will be thrown out."

"Let the questions flow in." Robin commented.

Question one: Is there anyone you don't want to see during the holidays? There's always that one family member.

Ladybug smiled, "From the comments, I can see that lots of people agree with you; whether an uncle or aunt, a parent or a sibling. I'm afraid there's no one in my family I want to avoid, but there are old friends who turned out to be assholes. Those people I could go without."

"My family." Robin stated, "There was a reason I moved out, but I'm expected to be home because of my grandfather. I'm....excited to see my pets, though."

Question two: Are you going home for the holidays?

"Unfortunately." Robin sighed, "The show will be on hold until the break is over."

"No." Ladybug spoke.

"You're staying?" Robin shouted, "Why is this the first I'm hearing it?"

"My parents will be out of the country." Ladybug replied, ignoring her partner, "A relative is sick and they're leaving soon to help I've been looking up single holiday recipes to try this year."

"Lucky." Robin pouted.

"Robin, you can't cook." Ladybug retorted, "You'd end up burning the school down."

Robin should stay!

Robin, don't leave us!

Robin, what are you making for dinner tonight?

Robin, I'll teach you how to cook!

We can go out to eat!

Shut up! Let the bad bird burn down the school!

Birb

"Should we be concerned how many people want you to burn the school down?" Marinette questioned.

"I assume it has to due with finals." Damian smirked, "Also, I'm not doing it. I don't want to move back. I like my dorm."

Boooooo!

No!

Stay with us!

I got a C-, okay!

I failed -_-'

I don't want to retake that stupid class next year!!!

Need the evidence gone!!!!

Ladybug giggled, "Well, I can certainly say, it's no mystery how much our followers have faith in your cooking skills."

"Ha-ha." Robin spoke, rolling his eyes, "Besides, I can always order out."

"That would require you talking to people." Ladybug rebuffed.

"Not if I do it online." Damian answered, "Like you're one to talk; you're more introverted than I am. I know you have classes in person because there was no other option."

Question three: Are you dating? If so, why not invite her over?

"Not dating." Robin stated.

Ladybug declares, "Robin is my friend and he respects my boundaries."

"I'm Bi and lean more towards guys." he responds, "Girls are too clingy."

Ladybug scoffs, "Chat Noir was clingy."

"No." Robin declares, "Your mental ex-partner was obsessive and should be given a restraining order, should he ever find out who you are."

"Not arguing with you there." Ladybug replied.

Question four: You know each other? What makes Robin different from Chat Noir?

Ladybug rolls her eyes, "Yes; Robin and I know each other, personally. As many of you know, Chat Noir and I did not. To the people who aren't aware, I use to have my own podcast. Chat Noir is someone who reached out to me for a collab. We became known as the 'Bug and Cat Team'. We mostly spoke about the problems at school and social events surrounding the area."

"You don't have to say anything you don't want to." Robin spoke.

"I've talked about it before and several times after the incident; I'm fine talking about it now." Ladybug replied, "A topic came up during a podcast. Someone felt pestered by another individual; they claimed the person wanted to date them and had already rejected them. The person got more insistent and 'tried hard to win them over'."

"They harassed them." Robin sneered, "Just say it like it is."

Ladybug cleared her throat, "During that podcast, Chat Noir sided with the harasser and I didn't. I shouted at him and declared that I couldn't work with someone who thought harassing people was the right way to form a relationship. I shut down my side of the cast and blocked him. Suffice to say, the collab failed and I quit speaking my mind for awhile. Many people blamed me for the way the podcast ended. Some said Chat Noir was only joking. Others declared me the 'School's Voice of Reason'. Robin was the one to figure out who I was and reach out to me. He is the reason I'm back."

Question five: Do you think you two ever will date?

"I don't know." Robin explained, "I'd have to test her, first, if we ever got feelings for each other."

Ladybug smiled, "Oh, you're gonna test me? Is this part of the test, right now?"

"I prefer to get cheap food on the first few dates." Robin declared.

"Oh Kwami!" She laughed, "That reminds me of that stupid list we found: 'List of restaurants/places women refuse to go on a first date. Have you seen that list?"

Yes!

No!

What is it?

Who doesn't like pancakes?

Someone doesn't like pancakes?

They must live under a rock!

"I saved that list. It is now my go-to list for dates." Robin spoke, "Again, bye Ladies."

Ladybug laughs, "That list was so stupid! I would eat at any of them! The mystery is what ladies did that person talk to and why do they hate those places so much?"

"It was probably written by the same people who wants a six-figure working guy." Robin shrugged, "Sugar Daddies and Mommies."

"People!" Ladybug cried, "College people are broke! We are still broke when we finish! We got to pay back those stupid loans!"

"We don't have the money for some five-star Michelin resturant because you got a $2000 dress on clearance for $300 and you want to feel special!" Robin declared.

"You don't want fast food or some homecooked meal someone spent the day on? You don't want a family resturant? Guess what? You're gone! We don't want you either!" Ladybug shouted, "I don't know who told you that's the only way you're getting someone good for the rest of your life. Why do you think so many are invested in celebrity gossip? There's always someone cheating or divorcing; some scandal. Being rich doesn't mean you're happy and you're life is perfect!"

"I agree with Ladybug." he spoke, "If I desperately wanted a homecooked meal, I could just ask Ladybug to make me dinner and I would owe her a favor."

"How about a two star resturant in return?" she commented.

"Deal." Robin responded.

They both laughed.

"You can bring your boyfriend, if he wants to come; a friendly dinner." Ladybug continued.

Robin nodded, "I'll let him know."

Question six: I hear clicking sometimes. What is that?

"Oops!" Ladybug spoke, "Sorry; that's me! ADHD kicks in and I'm usually messing with a pen or a figit toy. I didn't realize the noise was getting picked up."

Relatable

Pen clicker here

I tap my nails on my desk

Leg bouncer!

They have tiny figit cubes!

Marinette smiled, "I'm so glad you all understand. I see a lot of links to....what look like toys. I'll look through them over the holiday."

Question seven: major?

"Uh, that's too personal." Ladybug commented.

"Agreed." Robin added.

Question eight: what made you start a podcast?

"I was bullied a lot." Ladybug answered, "Not everyone listened to me, even when I was right. Slowly, I stopped trying to speak up and just watched and waited for everything to fail. I decided I wanted my voice heard, even if a single person was listening."

"I prefer the illusion." Robin declared, "There's too many people in my life and sometimes, I'm not heard."

Question nine: Who is taller?

Robin began to snicker, causing Ladybug to glare.

"I am!" Robin stated, "Ladybug is....what is that term?"

"Don't you-" she began to scream.

"Fun-sized!" he finished.

"Fuck you!" Ladybug shouted, making him laugh.

"I'm not that short!" Ladybug yelled, "You're just taller and like to pick on me!"

How cute!

Tiny bug?

Tall bug?

Robin lying?

Smol

Sibling vibes

Question ten: Ladybug, what recipes are you looking at for the holidays?

"Oh, a bit of everything!" she commented, "I saw a charcuterie board and some chips and dip. Maybe some soup? I don't want to make anything to complicated. Honestly, it all sounds good. Cookies are definetly being made on Christmas Eve. Usually, I would make chocolate chip or shortbread, but I want to try something different this year. Any recommendations?"

Peppermint Mocha

Hot Chocolate

Snowballs

Lemon Cups

Christmas Kitchen Sink

Peanut Butter Blossoms

Gingerbread

White chocolate with candycane pieces

Red velvet

Pinwheels

"I'm sure Ladybug will look through all of your recommendations and will let you know which ones she chose, when we return after the holidays." Robin spoke, "I will try and come back earlier, but don't hold your breath. We don't need a campus mystery."

"Remember to think out of the box" Ladybug cheered, "and Happy Holidays!"

"Ugh, " Marinette groaned, "I can't believe my knitting needles were being picked up but the mic."

"I'll see if Barbara or Drake are free to look over the audio and maybe find a way to tweak it." Damian stated, "I'll walk you to your dorm, Miss Staying-For-the-Holidays."

"Well, Mr.-No-Five-Star." Mari teased, earning an eye roll, "Want me to cook you dinner?"

"Only if you promise to come over for Christmas." he answered.

"Think Jon's jealous?" Marinette questioned.

"Of me eating your cooking?" he spoke, "Always. He told me if it wasn't for my martial arts training and swordsmanship, he'd be fighting me to date you."

Marinette rolled her eyes and kissed her boyfriend on the cheek.

"You know." Mari spoke, as she cuddled into her boyfriend's arm, "You could have just said I think my girlfriend should meet my family. I would have said yes."

"Still think it was better to keep our lives separate?" Damian asked.

"You mean our personas on the box away from who we really are?" she questioned.

He nodded in return.

"Yes; I do." she answered, confidently, "To many people, I'm soft-spoke or clumsy. I'm not someone people listened to. I don't regret starting my podcast on the side. I am glad you found me. You didn't let one person ruin me and who I was turning into."

"Well, I'd like to see Ladybug come more into play." Damian whispered, "I know she's in there and I like her just as much as I do Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

TAG LIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @missmadwoman @meira-3919 @princessdaisysolosyourfaves @blep-23 @fangirlingfanatic @darkhinauniverse @ravenr22 @im-a-satanic-ritual @ravennm84 @bianca-hooks123 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @starling218

#daminette december 2023 #daminette #marinette dupain cheng #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #mystery theatre #podcast #q&a session #winter break #chat noir mentioned #aliases #ladybug #robin #secret identities #mochinek0 #damian wayne

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i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end · 6 months

Text

I think of myself as a practical woman. I am proud to say that I have always been able to manage my household in the most efficient manner, purchasing only what is of good quality without requiring any unnecessary expenses. I have one possession, however, that is an exception to that rule. This is the story of how not only one but two of my tenants returned to Baker Street, and how I came to own one of London’s finest tea services as a result.

Mr Holmes returns. Dr Watson leaves. Mrs Hudson realises that London’s greatest detective might require a little assistance with winning the good doctor back.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen; M/M

Fandoms: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle; Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms; Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)

Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Mrs. Hudson; Mrs. Hudson & John Watson; Sherlock Holmes & John Watson; Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Characters: Mrs. Hudson (Sherlock Holmes); Sherlock Holmes; John Watson

Additional Tags: POV Mrs. Hudson; Story: The Adventure of the Empty House; Post-Story: The Adventure of the Empty House; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Angst and Hurt/Comfort; Angst and Humor; this really isn't too dark I promise; Happy Ending; Arguing; Making Up; Drunk Shenanigans; Cuddling & Snuggling; light allusion to sexual themes; Period-Typical Homophobia; Period-Typical Sexism; (I'm so sorry); Mrs. Hudson knows; Mrs. Hudson is an ally; Holmes is a silly young man to her but she loves him dearly; Holmes is oblivious that Mrs Hudson has adopted him; Holmes is a drama queen; Watson is a reasonable man who stands up for himself

I'm allowing myself to tag a few people who might be interested by going through my notes, so don't be confused if I randomly tagged you! :D

@amypihcs @tyrannosaurusnacks @friday411 @keirgreeneyes @crowleyholmes @sirensongster @rainbow-person @yamy-brett @itsnotlupus @its-notlupus @angryducktimemachine @anmaje @emmahasadhd @sarahthecoat @geeoharee @theantichris @hell-and-pepsi @neverquiteeden @rudbeckiasunflower @weast-of-eden @ohgodwhatwasthat @the-doggo-of-baskervilles @benrybenrybenry-chr @fuckyeahfreeimmortal @loki-lock @holmes-ness @louieclamlent @bestnoncannonship @forever-1895 @loreleilee @somethingintheforest

Whew! Okay, maybe I overdid it :D

#literally spent the whole weekend writing this instead of preparing for my first presentation i will give in front of an academic audience #sherlock holmes #dr watson #holmes/watson #fanfic #sherlock holmes fanfic #mrs hudson #the empty house #acd canon #granada holmes

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comicgeekery · 3 months

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Sherlock and Shoscombe

So, after the deep dive I did with Sherlock & Co and the issues with the Case of Identity storyline, I thought it was only fair that I talk about their take on The Adventure at Shoscombe Old Place.

*Ahem*.....This was a lot of fun! I just looked up a summary of the original story because I didn't remember it well, and no wonder! It was the very last Sherlock Holmes story Doyle published, later collected into The Casebook, and thus...one of the boring ones. I'm sorry. I really don't like The Casebook stories. It's also the last batch of stories that the Doyle estate was clutching onto before Sherlock went fully into the public domain, which makes the story feel doubly tedious to me.

But! These episodes were a blast! Practically a survey of all the best parts of Sherlock & Co! There's fun banter! Heaps of character background! A really clever update to the original set-up! BRILLIANT acting and foley work! A cheeky cameo! And a truly exciting, satisfying end! I think this is the most direct information we've gotten about John's past since, well ever, but certainly since we learned about his memories of his dad. Now we know that he grew up in a very class-divided town that once felt so much bigger. And he was deeply in love once, with a woman he lost partially because of classism. (Which is such a great mirror for Beatrice and her husband's situation!) He also lost his friends because they had privileges he didn't. (Did John join the military partly as a way to get away from his roots? Out of a desperate need to be praised as a hero?)

No wonder John has so much resentment for the wealthy when it's so deeply personal. I think it's going to be comically awkward and VERY interesting when he finds out that Sherlock is mega super rich. Holmes is often theorized to be the son of a lord in canon. I figure he's at least from a wealthy family that was able to pay for him to go to tons of fancy schools. And then personal tutors. And a full-time staff that always took care of cleaning and stocking up the groceries. (For all his observation skills, I do think Sherlock grew up never considering who made his household run.) I think part of why Sherlock has been so touchy about John's anger at rich people is because Sherlock is SUPER nervous it would ruin their friendship. I am also so pumped to see what the podcast does with Mycroft! I wonder if his autism might be more limiting than Sherlock's. Like he's got the genius skills, he's got the deceptively powerful government job, but he can't handle going out into the world. Going to Baker Street would be an ordeal. Might have a full meltdown if he's not at home, work, or whatever the Diogenes Club is updated to. But.....It's hard to tell how much Sherlock & Co wants us to suspend our disbelief about some things. John and Sherlock have very clearly committed a LOT of crimes on their publicly available podcast. Maybe that will never be addressed or MAYBE Sherlock, Mycroft, or other Holmes allies have been bribing and intervening to keep them from getting arrested. Imagine the drama! "You hate the rich, but you owe all your success to MY money and power, 'Dr.' John Watson!" *Blinks rapidly*

Where was I? Oh yeah, Shoscombe. That. God. Damn. Chase. Scene! So bold for a podcast to have a climax with a car chase at the center. The foley work was top-notch for the driving and the terrain and then the crash and sinking in the lake. Whoever plays John Watson, you did an incredible job! The reckless car chase where, OF COURSE, he still narrates everything, the diving for Robert (and the clever layer of the recorder fritzing), and that CPR! It was all so engaging and believable! I love when John does doctor stuff generally, but this was my favorite example since the gunshot wound at the wedding with The Solitary Cyclist. Not sure I buy Robert's at-home crematorium as being 100% good, but I can believe John thinks so. Might help that John's a bit more desensitized to cutting into corpses than most folks. Finally, I'm sure folks are quite excited that a certain James made a cameo. (Maybe he's interested in why Sherlock and John keep getting away with all their crimes.) I knew he was going to show up at some point, and making Moriarty a listener shout-out is delightful. I just hope it's a while longer before he's ON the show. It always frustrates me when Moriarty winds up becoming basically Lex Luthor. Then again, we've already had similar cameos for Irene Adler and Baskerville Hall (and probably some I've missed) without them showing up yet. We'll see how it goes!

Good job, Sherlock & Co! I'm excited to see what you do next!

#sherlock holmes #john watson #sherlock & co

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 1 year

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The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Prologue

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Prologue Word Count: 4001 Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

~~~

You released a tired, relieved sigh as you and the rest of the team exited the elevator and walked back into the bullpen. You'd just landed back after a week in Utah chasing a serial killer who turned out to be a mormon. He killed in the name of burning out the false children of God from humanity - literally. The Unsub managed to burn six innocent people alive before they apprehended him.

'I cannot wait to go home for a hot bath and a good glass of scotch,' Rossi said, rubbing at the kink in his neck from the sleep home on the plane.

'Ditto,' Alex said. 'James is home for the weekend, and he has promised me some home made pie that I am very much looking forward to.'

You smiled as you reached your desk, the echo of the others adding to the conversation of what they were looking forward to when they got home warming the usually busy room as they passed you. A sense of comfort and relief washed over you as you placed your go-bag on your desk. Hearing all your friends' voices back in the office after a mission was never a guarantee, so you relished every time you heard them, regardless of the conversation.

You looked up when a figure entered your peripheral vision, and that comfort and warm feeling spread further through you when you saw who it was.

'What about you, Y/N?' Spencer said by way of greeting, a soft smile gracing his own tired features. 'What is waiting for you at home on this fine Friday evening?'

You paused to think about it for a second, a content smile tugging at your lips at the thought. 'Well, unless I've been robbed in the last few days, I will be enjoying a nice glass of moscato while I order pasta from the restaurant below my apartment, and snuggle in with my book that I've spent literally months trying to finish,' you said dreamily, the thought of good food and good wine and a good book sounding almost too good to be true. But Garcia had informed the team before landing that no new cases had been submitted and so you had the weekend to yourselves.

'That all?' he asked, amusement dancing on his lips.

You chuckled, shaking your head. 'I know. First Friday night home in DC in a while and I am choosing to stay at home instead. The utter shame of it all.'

You both laughed, and it pleased you to see his amber eyes light up after the long week you'd had.

'I didn't mean that as a bad thing,' Spencer said, brushing a stray curl from out of his eyes. Even though it was the shortest length it'd ever been, some rogue curls still managed to dangle out of confinement every once in a while. 'What book are you reading?'

'Don't laugh at me, but... The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.'

Spencer's brow furrowed curiously. 'Why would I laugh? I love Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work.'

You shrugged, casually leaning against your desk as you crossed your arms. 'I know, it just seems a little silly that a federal agent is reading some old detective stories.'

'Actually, Doyle was one of the forefathers of detective fiction, as he brought in the concept that the science of deduction isn't just physical evidence but psychological observations. He created a space where all the sciences we know today can help in solving crime, and actually paved the way for more psychological avenues to be taken more seriously in academia and law enforcement. If you think about it, without Sherlock, you and I may not have our jobs as profilers right now.' Spencer paused when he realised he was rambling, and despite your soft, encouraging smile, he saw the tired blankness in your eyes.

Spencer licked his lips before speaking again. 'What I'm trying to say is... I don't think it's silly at all.'

You nodded your thanks although you knew you didn't need to. 'So what about you?', you asked in return. 'What will entertain Dr. Spencer Reid on this "fine Friday evening"?'

His words repeated back to him kept the smile on his face, more importantly the life in his eyes. But he began to fiddle with the strap of his satchel bag, and you couldn't help but notice he slightly swayed. Like he was nervous or something. It was cute.

He was cute.

You forced the rising heat in your cheeks to stay underneath the surface to not give away your embarrassment or your inner thoughts. Thoughts you'd been having since the day you'd met him six years ago. Thoughts that you'd suppressed so as to not interfere with your work, and then later so it wouldn't ruin your hard-built friendship.

When he told you about Maeve, you'd had mixed feelings. Of course, you'd been ecstatic for him that he'd found someone he could be himself with, and even more so when he disclosed to you that no one else knew about her - just you. But you couldn't deny the twinge of sadness that pulled at your heart knowing that that someone he could be himself with wasn't you.

But you hadn't hesitated, hadn't faltered when he'd needed a shoulder to cry on when Maeve was killed. Once he decided to open up and accept help, you were first in line to help keep the young doctor afloat in his sea of grief and loss.

It's been over a year since Maeve's death now, and while she would always remain important in his heart, he had, for the most part, moved on, slowly getting back to be his usual, quirky, logical self.

The past year and a bit has only brought you two closer together, and as much as you have tried to hide how amazing that makes you feel, you've had plenty of conversations with Penelope and others on the team about finally asking the boy wonder out. It's not like you didn't want to, but if Maeve was his type of girl, you just weren't sure you were what Spencer was looking for in a romantic partner. Besides, you were happy with your friendship.

It was by far the most precious relationship you had aside from your family - why ruin it?

You quickly realised you'd both been silent for a while, Spencer still not having answered your question yet. 'Spence?' you prompted gently.

The cute doctor managed to grasp his satchel strap fiercely and ground himself back in the present. 'R-Right. I too have a book at home. The one you got me for my birthday, actually.'

'Oh yes!' The Shining Girls by Lauren Beukes. You'd been hooked from the first line, and by the time you finished, all you could think about was how much you thought Spencer would enjoy it. So you instantly wrapped up your own personal copy and waited for Spencer's birthday to roll around. You never told him it was yours, you just hoped he didn't notice the slight bend in the spine or minuscule tears in some pages from you flipping them too quickly. 'I've been meaning to ask you if you enjoyed it or not. I just assumed you'd read it already.'

'We've just been so busy with cases lately. I haven't had time to even consider picking it up.'

You rolled your eyes. 'Come on, we both know you could've finished that book on one of our plane rides.'

He shrugged, eyes dipping for a moment before landing back on you. 'I know. I guess... I just wanted to give it the time and attention it deserved,' he settled on, and the honesty in both his words and his eyes threatened to steal your breath.

A silence that rested between comfortable and awkward settled upon you two. This had happened many times in recent weeks although you weren't quite sure why. Regardless of your hidden feelings and the tragedy of Maeve, neither of you lost your comfortability with one another.

'So... we've both got book dates tonight,' you said in an attempt to break the silence. The rest of the team was still chatting just a little away from them, but it felt like it was just the two of you sometimes when you talked.

'Well, actually, maybe...' Spencer started, and his fingers were twitching again. 'I was wondering if maybe you'd want t-to bring your book over and... join me, tonight.'

The request wasn't an unusual one. In fact, you'd conducted your own mini book club between the two of you on plenty of occasions. Mainly because you both found out you were the kind of people that liked your personal time and space, but didn't like the thought of being completely alone. This wasn't new, but it warmed your heart all the same at the gesture.

'That sounds great, Spence!' you said heartily. 'Give me half an hour and I'll be around at yours-'

'Actually,' Spencer interrupted, 'I was thinking we could grab some dinner together first. You know, like at a restaurant or some place you can sit in at.'

'...Like a date?' you asked softly, breathlessly. The words just kind of slipped from you before you even contemplated how they would affect Spencer. It just felt natural and right.

Your heart pounded like a jackhammer between your ribs, but you were more concerned at what expression Spencer would pull in the next five seconds.

To your relief, he smiled that small little smile of his that spoke volumes of his insecurity but also of his genuine intentions. 'Yeah. I guess it is like a date,' he finally replied.

Oh my goodness. He was nervous. His words were rushed and higher-pitched in tone. but you still managed to understand him, as well as what dinner implied.

A half-smile pulled at your lips. 'Dr. Spencer Reid,' you began softly, half-scared, half-excited to speak the words you'd been holding back for so long. 'Are you asking me out on a date right now?'

At your words, his anxiety seemed to disappear, as he stopped fidgeting with the satchel strap and took a daring step closer to you. 'I guess I am.'

You couldn't stop it now, the smile of pure joy you'd been holding back from splitting your face open. After years of suffering silently, of repressing the truth, it was all worth it for that one question.

'So what do you say, SSA Y/N L/N,' he quipped cheekily. 'Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?'

The answer was right there in the tip of your tongue, almost spewing from you, when your name was called out across the bullpen for all to hear.

The globe of silence and serenity that had built around Spencer and yourself suddenly shattered as you both, alongside the rest of the team, turned to Hotch standing in his office doorway. But while you all looked at him, his hard gaze was honed in on you.

'L/N,' he called again, having your attention now. 'Can I see you in my office, please?'

You looked between him and Spencer, unsure who to answer first. In the end, you were still technically on the clock so you nodded at your boss and said, 'Sure, I'll be in there shortly.'

'This can't wait, I'm sorry.'

It was the seriousness and discomfort in his voice that caused you to throw aside your personal agenda, giving Spencer an apologetic look before quickly making your way through the bullpen, up the stairs and into his office. You tried not to look at your team too much as you did, but you felt their gazes on the back of your head nevertheless.

They were just as confused as you were, then.

'Close the door,' Hotch instructed gently, to which you obliged. He pointed to the seat on the other side of his desk. 'Have a seat.'

'Everything okay, Hotch?' you asked, taking a seat in the chair. 'Oh no. Did I make an error in one of my reports again?'

'No, nothing like that,' he reassured you, which didn't help your already built up worry. For a moment, it was just you two sitting in his office in silence; you waited for him to explain his mysterious actions, while he seemed to struggle to find the right words.

He never struggled to find the right words.

You leaned forward in your seat, worry furrowing your brow. 'Hotch. What's wrong?'

'Nothing is wrong, so to say,' he insisted, but his frown remained. 'I've just been in contact with your old unit chief from Organised Crime. They believe there is an underground operation being conducted by gang leaders in Manhattan that involves the transporting, selling and purchasing of girls and women in the prostitute industry.'

'Okay,' you drawled out, more confused than ever. 'What has this got to do with us?'

'It doesn't,' Hotch answered immediately. 'Just you. Your old unit chief wants you back to go undercover in the case.'

'What?' You stood up from your seat instead of shouting, but goodness it took all your strength not to. 'Why do they need me? They have a whole squadron of agents to choose from.'

'They want a profiler to help them find out who these people are first, then go undercover and become part of the operation's inner circle and report back to them,' Hotch explained, although his tone displayed his displeasure in saying so. 'Y/N, you have more experience in undercover missions than anyone else on this team, even before you joined us as a profiler.'

You knew his words to be true, but the reality of it all was an ever-growing weight on your chest. 'What they are asking, Hotch, could take weeks, months even. Those kind of people will not trust so easily,' you tried reasoning with him.

You couldn't help but look through the blinds to your team still standing and talking outside in the bullpen. To Spencer, who had joined the team since you had left, but just looked at the window as if he could find out what was going on behind the glass and blinds if he looked long enough. It broke your heart to think you wouldn't see him for months, maybe even years.

Because that was the thing with undercover missions. Once you assumed the life of someone else, your old life became non-existent. That meant no contact with anyone outside of the case as a safety precaution.

That meant no talking to Spencer, or anyone in the BAU, until the case ended. Or unless you were killed, in which case you wouldn't be able to do a lot of talking anyways.

You turned back around at the sound of Hotch standing from his seat and coming around the desk to speak directly in front of you, no walls to hide behind. 'You know I wouldn't be asking if I hadn't tried to change their mind first. But even I can't argue that you are the best agent for the job.'

You nodded your understanding even if you hated to admit he was right. 'I guess it's not one of those jobs that I can decline, is it?'

Hotch shook his head regrettably. 'Head Chief requested for you personally. You've already been taken off the roster here at the BAU so you're not disturbed by other cases.'

Hearing that was just rubbing salt in the wound, and you hated the burning feeling of tears rising at the back of your eyes. You were already gone from here, like a ghost that didn't realise she was one to begin with.

Hotch's hand rested heavy on your shoulder as he comforted you. 'We can discuss your return to work when your mission is over. You will always have a place with us, Y/N.'

You attempted a smile, but it was strained as you tried to force back tears. You wiped at the strays that dribbled down your cheeks, pulling yourself back together before speaking again. 'All right. How long do I have before I am expected in the Big Apple?'

'There's someone waiting for you at your apartment already. They'll take you to their headquarters when you're done packing tonight.'

You sucked in air as you felt your whole world tilt unstably. Tonight. You had to leave tonight. Again, you found yourself seeking out Spencer through the half-closed blinds.

'So what do you say, SSA Y/N L/N? Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?'

You bit your lip as you blinked your tears away, trying but failing to ignore the cry of your heart as its strings were pulled harshly. 'Tonight?' you asked in the hope you'd misheard.

But no such hope existed, unfortunately.

'Yes,' Hotch said, that one word the final nail in the coffin of your impending suffering. 'I'm sorry. This goes without saying, but don't mention any of this to the team as you leave. Only myself and Section Chief Cruz will know where you are and the details of your mission.'

You huffed out a joyless laugh. 'Hiding truths from a team of profilers is like playing poker with a mirror attached to your face,' you said, and you didn't bother to hide your displeasure and sadness when you did. 'They're going to ask questions, and they will find out the truth eventually.'

'Let me worry about that,' Hotch said gently, letting go of you and leaving a cold mark where his hand once was. 'You've got bags to pack.'

'Right.' You sucked in a few deep breaths before making your way to the door. tears burned at your eyes again but you couldn't let the team see you like this. You couldn't let Spencer see you like this.

Because you had a job to do. And you always finished a job.

Before you could open the door handle, however, Hotch stopped you once more. 'Y/N.'

You looked at him, forcing an expression of blankness and indifference. 'Yes, sir?'

He must've seen your inner struggle, as he offered one of those genuine smiles of his that were oh so rare. 'We'll see you when you get back,' he said.

It wasn't a promise or a done deal, but it was the most hope you could ask for right now. So you smiled your thanks, nodded your goodbye, and opened the door back into the bullpen.

Immediately, all eyes set upon you and the room grew quiet. Your first instinct was to cry, then to run, then to blurt everything out because you hated keeping secrets. But you remembered what had just been said, and you whipped a bright smile onto your face to hide your despair.

'Don't you guys have homes to go to?' you asked cheerily, walking down the stairs as casually as possibly. You would've bee-lined for your bag, but if you moved too quickly they would suspect something. 'I recall hot baths and scotch were awaiting most of us, are they not?'

Thankfully Rossi took the bait, and picked up his go-bag in a huge huff. 'The lady is right. I spend enough time with you people as is, I am not wasting anymore not drinking and soaking.'

'Soaking in what? The bath or scotch?' JJ asked, also picking up her go-bag to make her way back to the elevator.

The group devolved into laughs and other jests, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you picked up your go-bag and followed them. Before you could though, a gentle call of your name halted you in your tracks, out of both politeness and frozen fear.

'Hey,' Spencer started, looking between you and Hotch's office. 'What was all that about?'

'Oh, uh, nothing super important,' you said, scrambled as you words were. 'Just a paperwork issue. Again.'

He broke out in smile that set your heart aflutter despite your inner turmoil. 'You know, you really shouldn't do paperwork on the plane when you're tired if you're just going to make a mistake. You're better off leaving it to the morning when your brain and body has rested enough to comprehend what the paperwork is asking of you.'

'Well sorry if I don't want to do a mountain of paperwork when I come back into the office,' you countered, grateful for the playful distraction as you made it over to the elevator. The others were just piling in when Spencer halted you again.

'So...' he dragged out, eyes flickering between you and teh floor nervously, '...what do you say?'

'To what?' you asked.

'To dinner. You didn't have time to give me an answer before.'

Shit. Your voice failed you now as you grasped at words - any words - to tell him. Your heart screamed yes, but there was someone waiting for you back home. A home you wouldn't be visiting for who knows how long.

Capitalising on your gaping mouth, you forced out a yawn and feigned covering it up out of embarrassment. 'Oh my goodness, sorry about that. Um, actually, now that you mention it, I am pretty beat. I'm just... going to go home and sleep it off if that's all right.'

It pained you to see his smile drop at your words, to see the hope leave his beautiful eyes at your rejection. And you knew you shouldn't say anything or make promises you couldn't keep, but you couldn't just leave him with no hope.

'Maybe next week sometime,' you offered, hoping your smile could bring some of that light back. 'You know, you've never tried the Italian Restaurant under my apartment before. We could go there. On me.'

Instinctively, you reached for his hand, relishing in the warmth it held and brought into you. To your relief, he didn't pull away. Instead, you got your smile back, and a little light returned to his eyes. You were kind of glad you wouldn't be around when the light left him completely.

'Okay,' he said softly, surprising you with a gentle squeeze of your hand in his. 'It's a date.'

'Yeah,' you replied, trying and failing to push aside the fluttering sensation his words gave your heart. You were only prolonging not only your pain, but his.

Selfish. So selfish.

'Come on, you two,' Derek called out from the elevator. 'I can't hold these doors open forever. Savannah will kill me if I miss our dinner reservations.'

You both quickly made it in to the elevator before Derek let them close on you, and then you were caught up in the chaos that was your team. You weren't sure how you got onto the topic of what scotch goes best with what foods, but you didn't care. It made you happy to know they never let the weight of a dark case get in the way of living their own lives to them fullest.

You all reached the car park and before you could make a run for your car, Spencer called out to you. 'See you Monday, Y/N!'

You turned back around to face not only him, but Derek, JJ, Penelope, Alex, and David as they all slowly went for their cars too.

You caught yourself staring at them, taking their happy faces in one last time before you left them behind. Hotch said you'd always have a place with the BAU, but you weren't sure how long this mission would take. And if you'd be replaced by then.

You forced a smile onto your face and waved them farewell. 'Yeah, see you then.'

You hated the bitter taste the lie brought to your mouth, but you managed to keep it together long enough that you got in your car and drove out of the car park without any more issues. That's when the tears came.

You wouldn't be there next Monday, and were not getting that date with Spencer next week.

It hurt you more to think that you may not get that date at all.

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mx-loar-tev · 1 month

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So, about that fic idea of time traveller/serial killer JJ...

I'm toying with plot ideas.

1. Who would end up on her kill list?

Hastings, Askari and Doyle are the one that would take priority in S6. There are also the ones that JJ would feel the most justified to kill.

Izzy, the bank robbers and the other guy (forgot his name) in Hit/Run would definitely anger her so much that she could decide to preemptively get rid of them before they attack the bank in Washington. Not only she almost lost Will (the guy got shot and almost blown up twice), her son was taken hostage and she had to violently fight in front of him in their home. Her maternal instincts might push her to kill Izzy at the very least. Especially if she had already murdered three people in cold blood before that.

I'd need to rewatch the show, especially seasons 6 to 8 to see who could be on her kill list, but there's another name that come to mind: Diane Turner, the woman that stalked and killed Maeve. JJ had seen how devastated Spence had been after Meave's death, so of course she would do everything to save her and give them the opportunity to date.

The replicator is also someone that could be on the list. After all he tried to kill them all and succeeded with Strauss. I don't think JJ liked Strauss that much, even after she got sober, but the section chief is still "one of them". She also saw what Strauss' death did on Rossi, and for that only the replicator deserves to be on the list. He might not be her easiest target though.

2. About the cases:

With the amount of cases she worked on for over a decade, I think it would be hard for her to remember and keep track of it all. I'm sure she'd try to use the Intel she remembers to help with the case and save more victims, but the load of work that would come from trying to PREVENT all these crimes from happening is way to much for a single person.

Maybe there's some cases that sticked to her though, maybe she could focus on these ones if she wants to prevent them. But she can't save everyone and I'm sure it'd impact her mood severely to realise that.

I think she has a notebook written in code where she put every nugget of informations she can remember, along with ideas of how to approach each situation.

3. The butterfly effect.

Each time she changes something, kills someone that would have lived in the original time line, it has unpredictable repercussions. After a while, it would be hard to predict for JJ what would happen then. And sure, saving people's life is good. But there's no way to predict if someone else isn't going to hurt the person JJ just saved. Or just create an chain of events that would ends in tears and pain. It think at some point JJ would be overwhelmed by it all.

4. Lying to the team.

We know JJ is a great liar. Probably the best liar in the team. Her teammates failed countless times to see through her lies. But no one is perfect, especially with the amount of lies JJ would need to keep track of. I'm not sure yet how she would react from the worried and/or suspicious stares from her teammates. She'd be in a lot of pressure, that's for sure, so maybe she might slip at some point. And when you're surrounded by profiler, that can be a fatal mistake.

5. Her pregnancy.

If she killed Askari and Hastings before her humvee was blown and she miscarried, she probably would have given birth to that child. Her pregnancy and taking care of a newborn would impact the story and her ability to keep going with her mission.

6. Romance.

Sorry, I needed to put that here.

I'm quite flexible on who I ship JJ with. I'm a die-hard jemily shipper, I'll admit, but I think Will is okay even if he's not perfect.

I don't like writing Will as a bad guy, but that doesn't mean I can't write them breaking up for some reasons (JJ's odd behaviour since she arrived in the past and went on a killing spree might damage her marriage.) So that's a possibility, I guess.

But I also love the idea of polyamory. Though I'm already going that route in the fic I'm currently writing so I might want to try something else.

I could just not focus on a ship. Not every fic needs to be shippy. After all, the main interest of this fic is JJ, her psychology, the way she interacts with everyone in her life. There'd also be a huge chunk focusing on motherhood since she'd be pregnant.

Thinking about it, JJ being aromantic is something I haven't explored yet. That could be fun to write.

I haven't decided what I gonna do in that department yet.

7. How it'll end.

Or more exactly, what tone do I want to give to that story?

I mean, it'll probably be dark. But do I want a happy ending for JJ?

Even if she feels justified, what she does is morally blackish grey. That plus the weight of the lies and the amount of work that double life would require would be enough to burn her out. Once she stepped into the darkness it would be a downward spiral.

On the other hand, I like the idea of girlboss JJ being a successful charitable hitman/vigilante. I want her to have a little Deadpool vibe (sans sexual jokes and 4th wall breaking). I want her to find a confortable place where she's okay with what she's doing, even if it requires unsavoury methods.

Regardless of her state of mind, should the story end badly for her? Would her teammates find out about her? Would they arrest her? Would she escape? Would she be killed?

Or would she thrive in her new side work and remain undetected by her fellow profilers?

Would she stay at the BAU, considering she had become an unsub herself?

Do I want a happy ending? A sad one? A bittersweet one?

Thanks for reading through my musings.

If you have ideas or want to discuss that story, feel free to leave a comment/reblog and comment/send me an ask.

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dollsome-does-tumblr · 10 months

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season 1: enemies to friends to lovers to enemies again! is this burning an eternal flame? ❤️‍🔥

season 2: making up, maybe a surprise kiss under the mistletoe at the bracebridge dinner? (after their onstage kiss as romeo and juliet, of course.) also, the moral quandary of whether you should be dating your presidential running mate.

season 3: feeling peskily distracted from jess and jamie! torn asunder by the machinations of francie, who hates love! post-cspan debacle make-ups and ... make-outs?? you know, most of the time they really hated each other. (not!)

season 4: oh my god, they were roommates (with bonus: finally-single rory hates paris/asher for obvious reasons, but also maybe ... jealousy reasons?? cue mr. brightside.) let's all take a moment to appreciate that in this season they canonically locked lips. 💋

season 5: asher is dead and paris is ready to rebound; rory and dean 2.0 is so over; paris thinks rory looks very cute in her best man suit

season 6: no men! just lots and lots of chinese food! (and a treadmill.)

season 7: i don't know, having cute hair and being in love and kissing in the snow after they abandoned their life-plan whiteboards to go tray sledding or whatever. my apologies to logan and doyle, exemplary s7 steady boyfriends.

ayitl: paris is divorced! rory is rootless! it's never too late for your dreams to come true!

#gilmore girls #rory x paris #polls

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victorianpining · 1 year

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The Game is Now

(Well The Game is over a year ago, if you want to be technical about it)

I finally took the time to write up my notes and reactions to the original BBC Sherlock Escape Room Experience! Sorry in advance if things are a little vague at points, we only played through the room once and am mostly running off of iphone notes I wrote 13 months ago. I hope to be able to go back to try out the new Mind of Moriarty room during its run, if this one was anything to go by, it should be a fun time!

My usual disclaimer that while this is a TJLC slanted writeup, I'm just playing The Game for fun at this point, I really am not expecting any of this to lead anywhere. Enjoy your television responsibly, don't idolize television writers, eat your veggies, etc. etc. etc. And spoilers for the room, obviously.

Oh, and huge thank you to @watermotif @betweendoctorsanddetectives and @647763 (and her girlfriend) for playing the room with me! I had a blast suffering with you all <3

The way I'm getting myself to finally actually write this up is by telling myself it's okay if my thoughts are a little informal, especially after this long, so this is going to be written the way I usually structure my outlines in the format of chaotic bullet points. Hopefully it's still readable!

I'm starting my recap of the experience outside of the escape room itself, which was located in what was, for all intents and purposes, a random, abandoned seeming mall in London (it wasn't actually abandoned malls are just like that now)

So imagine you are just walking through what looks exactly like your local, very dead, mall, when there's just this massive wall with dark damask wall paper and the most DFP Sherlock quotes you can conceive of plastered on it. Think "I may be on the side of the angels but don't think for a second I am one of them" "heroes don't exist and if they did I wouldn't be one of them" "I'm a high functioning sociopath" etc. It's already hilarious

You come around the corner from that and there's the gated off "Doyle's Optometrist" office, where you have to page in (I think we had to state our group name, I can't remember exactly how we got in)

Once you're inside the staff helping you are named Stamford. Yes like Mike Stamford. Yes all of them. If you didn't know you were in for psychological torment, you do now

[brief intermission here because some of us arrived early, so they actually let us through to the Mind Palace bar while we waited. It was pretty cool, apart from the guy working there being really pushy about ordering drinks. The bar is Victorian themed with framed pictures from TAB and the biggest one in the room, like by far, was a framed picture of Sherlock and Moriarty's little gun standoff, so you know, that was fun.]

[here we are trying to be normal about it]

[also I went to the bathroom at this point and there was a little sign in the stall which said that the Sherlock theme song was exactly the right length to wash you hands to which was the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen in my life]

Anyway back to the intended order of the experience, Stamford led us back to the optometrist waiting room where we sat calmly while John Watson's voice read out random advertisements. (The only one of these I wrote down was "the eyes are the legs of the face" because it was so random, but there was a set of them)

Also as you will see in the following picture, the posters in here were Bananas

(In case you can't see it since it's small in dash, the purple one behind Mia says "Doyle's Audiographs: for those who hear but don't listen" very evocative of the "I did tell you but did you listen" motif, 0/10 very infuriating)

Stamford came over at this point and brought us back and gave us the rules, which included no photography so photos end here unfortunately

So we were taken to a projector room where John Watson addressed the players, saying that while it says the office belongs to Doyle, this is actually a front for one of Mycroft's plans (ha ha ha (deadpan)) and that he's coopted John into helping. (hah. do you get it? the author and the narrator? hillarious)

It was so clear that Martin did not want to be there. Like yes John in character also doesn't want to be there but Martin literally looked like he was being held at gunpoint. His eyes were dead. Poor guy.

Stamford led us through another room into the 221B living room! Being in here was surreal. Because there are a few groups lumped together at this point, we had a bit of time to look around the room. Rachel found a book about fetishes on the mantle, which was something.

We took our group picture, they let you pick from a few props. I went for the white queen chess piece for Dracula reasons and got bullied into wearing the deerstalker, which was homophobic.

Also the skull was the Yorick version, and I took a moment to stare into ACD's eyes, out of respect, as one does.

At this point the game proper begins! Sherlock's voice comes on (Ben is not on camera other than one brief exception which we will be coming back to later) and starts prepping us for our mission.

I don't remember the context but I think while telling us to be careful in the flat he told us "don't scrape your knees, or do." which was funny considering "the state of her knees"

Mycroft then addresses the audience (hah) only to be interrupted by Moriarty (hah) hacking the TV (hah hah hah)

The mirror above the fireplace? Also turns into a TV that Moriarty hacks. Ha. Ha ha ha ha.

Moriarty informs us that he has kidnapped Mycroft so the point of the game is to save Mycroft from Moriarty (I was fighting the urge to bash my head against the walls of 221b at this point, like I was expecting M Theory but like Come On you're killing me here)

You may be wondering how exactly Moriarty has kidnapped Mycroft considering he is dead. Great question! You don't get an answer apart from Moriarty saying "remember I am definitely dead" in the most sarcastic voice I have ever heard come out of Andrew Scott's mouth. Full psychological warfare at this point. Having a great time. The usual.

Also at this point, while talking about Mycroft, Moriarty compares him to Sherlock, and he definitely listed off a bunch of things but the part that most stood out was he said verbatim "Mycroft is like Sherlock without the fangirls or sex appeal" so uh. Um. Yeah. M Theory Time!!! All Aboard!!! Choo Choo!!!!

We were taken to the first of our three puzzle rooms: the morgue at St. Bart's. Moriarty is introducing the room and jokingly refers to the brief time he spent dating Molly, lets us know that our goal is to break into the computer system (a development which had me thrilled, you know I love the Moriarty as a Virus angle)

Not one full minute after Moriarty joked about Molly being his cover, Molly voice over talks to John (who by the way has a beard at this point, that I had not mentioned) and goes "nice beard!" Hah. Hah.

To get into the computer we needed to put in a date, I don't remember the context for this puzzle but the answer was 2012, the year of Season 2.

The case in the middle of the room then lights up and you're able to see the corpse. On the computer, a database comes in, and in order to get into the server, we need to fill out a series of questions about the identity of the corpse.

One of the filters is the relationship status of the corpse with three options, single, married m/f, and married m/m. I let out the most exhausted sigh of my entire life and hit married m/m without even looking at the corpse. (we briefly removed it because the room was giving us clues out of order that made us think for a moment that this was wrong, it was not, the corpse is gay, you have to not assume he's straight. Do you get it?) (war and strife on the planet earth)

So the clue for that is that the corpse has the name Stephen tattooed on him (really? of all the names? Stephen????) and you're meant to figure out that he wouldn't get a tattoo of his own name. Or just be so mentally exhausted that you intrinsically know the corpse is going to be gay because of course he is.

If that wasn't enough, the corpse was also a member of the Royal Navy who was left handed. Hi John.

At this point my friends in the room with me pointed me up to the TV in the corner, which was showing random news feed but the ticker tap at the bottom was advertising BBC Dracula, which was fun.

When we were finally getting into the cage the server was in, Moriarty kept ominously chanting "let me in"

Again, don't remember the context, but one of the clues in this room was identifying the heart

We discovered the corpse died of a horrific virus (hah) just as Moriarty hacked into the server thanks to us (once again was genuinely enjoying the code stuff, this is a 10/10 from me, makes fadow better for everyone who has done this silly escape room sdhgakjdsg)

The second room was Mycroft's underground office and our task from Moriarty was to locate where his agents were stationed throughout the world and once again send off his virus. I was giggling.

Flipping around with switches on Mycroft's desk, we found that the mirrors on either side of the room were actually windows! Because of course they were!

Sherlock comes in with a clue at this point and lets us know something to the effect of "Mycroft likes to hide clues in photographs" which was uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... normal.

Those are my only notes for this room and I don't remember literally anything else about it so sorry about that on to....

The final room: The Victorian Operating Theater! Oh boy!!!

Moriarty has been using us to access the genetic code (hah) for a virus (hah) last scene in the Victorian Era (hahahahahahahaa). He literally phrases it as "an old treasure brought into the modern day." Hillarious.

Then the absolute highlight of the experience: there's this giant console thing in the middle of the room that comes to life with all these screens, and on them including Moriarty taunting us and, the absolute 12/10 winner, footage of Sherlock wandering around 221B. This is the only Ben footage you get and not only does it confirm the "Moriarty is always spying on Sherlock" part of M Theory, it's very similar to the wall of monitors I came up with for fadow. Fellow Moriarty fan Mia and I were dying at this as much as we were able to while still trying to solve the room.

Moriarty freed Mycroft but had infected us with the virus (this is why I joke that Moriarty gave me COVID, because I caught it this day and it might as well have been from him)

His plan was to unleash the virus on the world unless we could stop him

This room was more physical puzzles than mental, and we had to cure the brain, the heart, and the lungs respectively. The brain and the heart are obviously big Sherlock meta staples so since then I've been like "why the lungs tho?" My best guess is it has something to do with breathing new life into an old story, but that's just a guess

While we were solving it and making progress Moriarty came on to rant something like "the game was over! You should have known when to give up!" Flames, flames on the side of my face.

When we won, Sherlock insulted us, but Mycroft then came on to compliment our efforts and talents, which was a great way to leave off.

Apparently only 20% of people actually solve the room, and we were in the top 20% of that, all while trying to take in the meta of it all, go League of Furies!!!

Final thoughts: this really was like if watching the show was a thing you could live through in real time. If you've ever wanted to be tormented by Mofftiss in a more visceral way, this room is exactly what you're looking for. Also shoutout to Andrew, who acted his absolute heart out, 15/10 thanks for all the M Theory, it was delicious

Also once again to reiterate, I can't believe James Moriarty gave me COVID, after all I have done for him, rest in pieces except he isn't even dead all the way.

I guess 4 months of not being able to breathe fully was the real lungs meta all along.

Can't wait for the Mind of Moriarty game next though for real, that's gonna be Bonkers, if one of the scenes is a virtual version of the waterfall scene from TAB I think I would combust on the spot

Thanks for reading!!! Sorry this took me forever only to be such a casual writeup in the end, but hopefully this recreation of my mental breakdown in a mall was entertaining.

#rebs blogging #the game is now #tjlc

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