#Spencer: no! Plus we’ve been broken up for years

[only-one-brain-cell]

No but imagine Spencer coming out to the team as bi and telling them about Ethan and how him and Ethan would have debates all the time,. They were both so competitive and always trying to one up each other. They managed to convince everyone that they hated each other then 5 minutes later they were making out in a closet.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #imagine the team finding out about Ethan #Derek when him and Spencer are walking past a closet: don’t get any ideas #Spencer: shut up #Derek: do you think of him every time you walk past a closet? #Spencer: no! Plus we’ve been broken up for years #Derek after the case with Lilia: so we can cross off pools and closests is there anywhere else you want to make out with someone? #Spencer: why did I ever come out to you

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

A Shade of Gray: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: Your abilities are put to the test when you have to gather evidence based on what your psyche is telling you. Hotch believes in you, and that’s the only thing that matters.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

You and Rossi walk down to the kitchen to see what Bill was called away for. You need to inspect every inch of this house so you'll know where to start looking.

"Our tech guys found this dishrag and a glass of water. Kyle's fingerprints were all over it," Bill says.

"So, he wakes up thirsty, comes to the kitchen, and gets some water."

"When we got here, the deadbolt on the French doors was unlocked."

"That must have been his exit."

"Rossi! Y/N! Check this out!" Derek calls from the basement. You and Rossi join Derek in the basement. You're immediately floored at the energy left behind down here. "This window was definitely broken from the outside. Given the size of it, the unsub would have to be really small to get through it. What did you find upstairs?"

"There were signs of a struggle. It looks like Kyle was abducted from his room. The unsub went out through the family room door."

"So, he finds a safe and quiet place to break in."

"Everything about how Kyle was taken is consistent with the previous abductions."

Yeah, too consistent.

Hotch, JJ, Spencer, and Penelope came up with a short list of suspects they thought might have done this. You'll be back to this house to inspect it further so you leave with Derek, Bill, and Rossi back to the police station to find out what list they have.

"We've already narrowed the list to five men."

"Already?"

"Hugh Rollins, forty-three, lived in Camden County his whole life, in and out of foster care since he was a toddler, and acquired quite the nice rap sheet."

"What's his connection to the victims?"

"Two years ago, he got a steady job installing TVs. The first two families recently purchased a new one. Garcia found something else. Rollins had no cell or bank activity on the days the boys were abducted."

Relief washes over you, and you look at Bill to see his eyes closed. Why is he relieved at this news?

"We haven't been able to connect Rollins to Kyle yet," you say.

"You're saying you wanna wait for more evidence?"

"No, there isn't time. We have sufficient probable cause."

"Hotch, you need to hear what Y/N has to say," Rossi says.

All eyes are on you, and you look at Bill who is waiting for you to say something. Rossi understands what needs to happen, so he makes up some bullshit and takes him off to the side.

"What is it?" Hotch asks.

"I don't think Rollins did it. At least not with Kyle. I know you told me to gather physical evidence, but forget that for a moment. Sarah and Dan are racked with guilt. There's so much there that I started to feel guilty about things from my past. Danny is the complete opposite. He has no emotion about any of this. When I was talking to his dad, he was sitting next to him with a clear bored expression on his face. It felt forced when he started crying.

"The reason why I don't think Rollins did it is because the first two victims were taken from their homes, right? There is not an energy out of place in that house. I've never met Rollins, but I would have noticed a stray energy. Plus, I saw Kyle. He's dead.

"Soley based on this energy, I think Danny killed his brother in a fit of rage, and based on his parents' energies, I think they're covering it up or they know what happened. The relief I felt from Bill when you said Rollins might be responsible for this is concerning. Bill knows what happened and they're all keeping it a secret."

"Y/N--"

"I know what you're going to say," you cut Derek off. "I need physical proof to back my theory up. I get it. I'm telling you this because I'd like you to give me a little leash." You turn to Hotch. "Give me some time to gather what I can. I'm not saying Rollins didn't kill those two little boys, but he didn't kill Kyle. Please."

"Fine. You and Reid go to the Murphy house and the rest of us will take Rollins. You'll have your leash. Don't choke me with it."

"Thank you. Come on, Spencer."

The Murphys are surprised to see you back at their place so shortly after leaving.

"Agents. I didn't expect you to come back so quickly," Dan says.

"Yes. Could we take a look inside? I want to make sure we didn't miss anything in our initial sweep. Can we start with Kyle's room?"

"Of course. Come in."

You and Spencer walk into the house and take a look around. Dan and Sarah stay downstairs while you and Spencer head up to Kyle's room which is still in a state of array.

"So, what are we looking for?"

"Anything that would suggest Danny killed his brother or that Sarah and Dan covered it up. I have the crime scene photos of the first two victims' bedrooms." You take out the folder and put the two pictures side by side to compare it to the state of Kyle's room. "Take a look at the sheets. The first two were ripped as if the kids tried to fight back. Look at Kyle's."

Kyle's sheets are thrown on the ground as if someone placed them there instead of an actual struggle occurring. You take your phone out and take a picture of Kyle's room so that you can compare it to the other two later on.

"Isn't there something off about this room?"

"What do you mean?"

"It looks like this was staged. Like someone came in here and messed everything up to make it look like a struggle. Did he even sleep in this room last night?"

"It does look that way compared to the other two, but that doesn't mean Danny killed his brother."

"No, but it helps my theory. Come on." You take Spencer over to Danny's room which is neat for a kid. The only thing out of place is the bunk beds because both beds are messed up like two people slept here and not one. "I thought only one kid lives here."

"They do."

"I think Kyle slept in here last night. The sheets wouldn't look slept in if he didn't." You walk closer to the bed and notice a dark spot in the middle of the bed underneath a teddy bear. "Kyle wet the bed. Come on." You take Spencer back downstairs where Dan is waiting eagerly. He stands up as soon as he sees you, and he wipes his hands on his jeans as if they're starting to clam up. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just want my little boy to come home."

"I understand. Thank you for letting us do this," Spencer says.

"Anything you need that might help."

You notice Dan's knuckles are freshly busted like he hit something over and over again. You didn't see any workout equipment in the house, so you're not sure where he got that if he got that here.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your hand?" you ask.

Dan puts his left hand over his right to hide it but you've already seen it.

"I was working out at the gym and forgot to bring my gloves. I'm always forgetting things like that," he chuckles.

"Right, well, give us five more minutes and we'll be out of your hair." You take Spencer down to the basement where the collective energy of the family resides. "This is where most of the energy is."

"What do you feel?"

"Well, it doesn't really matter what I feel. According to Hotch, I need physical proof."

"Come on, don't do that. He's not here. It's just me. What do you feel?"

"A lot of anger. A lot of pain. Whatever happened to Kyle happened in this room."

"How can you be sure?"

"He's standing in the corner watching us. Hotch doesn't understand. This is why I don't rely on physical evidence. I know people's secrets and when you confront them about it, nine out of ten times, they crack."

The glass from the broken window catches the light, and you walk over to it carefully. They've cleaned the glass up but the hole is still there. Ghost pieces of glass hover off the ground and fit back into place. All the pieces are there but one. Why would one be missing? The police have the pieces of glass in evidence, so you'll need to get those to reconstruct what the window looked like before it was smashed. Dan was nervous when you asked him about his hand which is more suspicious when you know a piece of the window is missing.

"We'll need to get those glass pieces back. I bet one of them is missing. I don't think Dan was working out when he busted his knuckles." You look out the broken window to see the neighbor across the street working in her flower garden, and she periodically looks over at the Murphy house. "Let's talk to her."

"Why? Police already talked to all the neighbors."

"We didn't."

As soon as you thank the Murphys, you leave their house and head over to the neighbor's house. She is working in her garden when she hears the clack of your heels on the concrete.

"May I help you?"

"Yes. I'm Agent Y/N and he's Dr. Spencer Reid. We're investigating the disappearance of Kyle Murphy. I'd like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind."

"I already told the police everything I know."

"Still. I'd appreciate it if you give me a moment of your time. I promise to keep this short." The woman stands up, wipes her dirt-covered hands on her jeans, and gives you the okay. "Thank you. Do you spend a lot of time in your garden?"

"Yes. I grow rare flowers that need my attention multiple times a day."

"Would you say you have a good view of the Murphy house?"

"Yes."

"Have you noticed anyone lingering around their house? It could be a car you don't recognize or someone passing by their house multiple times a day."

"No. I lost my job recently so I've been home all day to tend to my garden. I know everyone in this neighborhood because I attend the weekly meetings at the church. I would have noticed someone out of place."

You look up at her house and notice a small security camera in the corner that points toward the Murphy house.

"Excuse me, is your camera on?" you ask.

"Always. I don't want people stealing my flowers."

"Does it point to the Murphy house?"

"Not in the way you're hoping. It doesn't capture the whole house. The police already asked to see the footage but it didn't help them."

"Do you mind releasing footage to us? It might help us."

"Sure. I'll be right back." The woman goes inside and returns moments later with a file in her hand. "I've already looked. I don't know what you're going to find."

"Thank you for your help. If you can think of anything else, please give me a call." You turn to Spencer. "We need to get this to Garcia, and I think we should check the woods next. We might find Kyle there."

You'd call this successful and wonder if the other half of the team is doing well. Emily and Derek found child pornography on his computer but nothing that connects him to the three boys. However, they did find a black bag filled with children's toys, more specifically, his victims'.

"I'll check out back," Bill announces.

When he gets back there, Rollins can be seen trying to run away. Bill takes out his gun and starts firing without trying to pursue him on foot.

"Stop! Bill, stop!" Derek yells when he runs outside. Derek and Emily take off running toward Rollins who tries to climb the fence to get out. Derek tackles him to the ground and arrests him right there and then. Emily takes him to the police car while Derek walks back to Bill with an angry look on his face. "What the hell was that about?"

"I thought he might get away. I wasn't thinking."

"You're damn right you weren't."

"I know. It was stupid."

"What if you'd killed him? He's the only one who knows where Kyle is."

"I said I know."

The relief I felt from Bill when you said Rollins might be responsible for this is concerning. Bill knows what happened and they're all keeping it a secret.

Derek thinks about your words from earlier and looks between Bill and Rollins. If you're right about this, and he knows you probably are, then Bill knows the truth about what happened to Kyle.

"Lancaster, I've been where you are. I was a cop, too. That's why I knew this wasn't a good idea. You are way too close."

"I'm not gonna stop until we find Kyle," Bill glares and leaves Derek's side.

"Kyle isn't here," Rossi says and leaves the house with Emily.

"No, and if he isn't on this property, he's already in the woods. So, Rollins goes to the trouble of breaking into the Murphys' house? It's a big risk to take Kyle. If he's already in the woods, then he only kept him for a few hours. This doesn't make any sense."

I saw Kyle downstairs as a spirit. He died, and not that long ago.

The reason why I don't think Rollins did it is because the first two victims were taken from their homes, right? There is not an energy out of place in that house. I've never met Rollins, but I would have noticed a stray energy.

Soley based on this energy, I think Danny killed his brother in a fit of rage, and based on his parents' energies, I think they're covering it up or they know what happened.

Rossi thinks back to your words.

"I think Y/N might be right on this one. We need to find Kyle's body to be sure."

x

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #series rewrite #cm season 4

[baubabble]

“Diamonds and Dances” Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer used to date at the Academy. When you graduated, you broke it off. Later, when you are assigned to the BAU, old feelings resurface. When Hotch assigns the two of you to go undercover together at an event, how will those feelings evolve?

Word Count: 5258

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Cherry” by Harry Styles

Note: My first attempt at writing Spencer! Thank you for all the love on my Hotch series!

-------

“If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were.”― Kahlil Gibran

The case had finally hit a dead end.

You and the rest of the team were sitting in the Los Angeles FBI Field Office, staring at the ceiling. Four couples had been brutally murdered at local events over the past sixth months and so far, the local agents had nothing. When Garcia was given the request for assistance, Hotch had taken the case immediately.

You had been at the BAU for more than a year now and you had never been this frustrated. You could tell that the more seasoned agents such as Morgan and Rossi were just as annoyed that no leads were surfacing as well.

Spinning lazily in your chair, your eyes fell on Reid as they usually did. Spencer Reid was the one that got away in more ways than one. You and the doctor had met at the Academy and instantly hit it off. The two of you had dated for almost a year before you had broken it off. Spencer was going to the BAU and you were going to sex crimes. It was just the way it had to be. You were happy to make a clean break rather than trying to tackle a complicated relationship.

That is until Strauss had requested you to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You had been hesitant at first for many reasons. Then, Aaron Hotchner had called you personally and encouraged you to take the position. He was aware of your history with Reid and said he would do his best to make sure the environment was as professional as possible.

Which is how you found yourself at a crossroads with your current case. “I’m about to shove pencils in my eyes,” Garcia said from beside you. Penelope had been asked to join the team on this case due to the unsub’s signature at hacking into security systems and traffic cams.

“You too?” you asked, turning to her.

“My brain has never felt tired before,” Garcia said. “Is this normal?”

“I think we all need some rest, Baby Girl,” Derek said as he rolled over to Penelope and began massaging her shoulders. You watched the action with a hint of envy. There was too much going on inside your head for anything right now. Pushing back from the table, you stood up.

“I need some air,” you announced and headed out of the conference room. The team watched after you for a moment before returning to their work, except one member’s eyes remained fixed on your exit.

------

Spencer Reid was the best problem solver the team had.

He never had problems with finding the missing puzzle piece in the case or analyzing a criminal’s motives. However, there was one problem, he couldn’t quite crack.

You.

Reid had never gotten over your breakup. He sat awake for nights after you had broken it off trying to figure out what he had done wrong. He had confided in everyone he knew. His mother said that you just weren’t the right person for him, but Spencer disagreed. You were perfect for him, perfect for each other. He didn’t know what went wrong. One day the two of you had been smiling, laughing, and then it was like a switch had flipped and you just ended it.

Then when you had joined the BAU, hope reentered Spencer’s mind. Perhaps this was a chance to tell you how he felt and maybe even rekindle something from years before. However, those thoughts were quickly dismissed when he overheard a conversation you were having with Penelope about a man named Robbie, your new boyfriend.

Watching the way your face lit up when you spoke about the new man in your life felt like ice to his heart. He remembered when you used to look like that when you spoke about him and now it was reserved for someone else. Shortly after this, he had confided in JJ about the issue, finally expressing his thoughts to another member of the team.

“It’s been years, Spence,” JJ had told him, rubbing his back affectionately as he sat on her couch watching Henry play with a new toy Will had bought him. “It’s normal for people to move on.”

“But I haven’t,” Spencer had said. “I haven’t, JJ, and I don’t know if I can handle seeing her every day and knowing she’s with someone else.”

“Who knows,” JJ had said, “maybe the universe will be in your favor.”

“You know I don’t believe in any of that.”

“Maybe just this once you can,” JJ had said before squeezing his arm and then dropping the subject altogether.

------

You stood out on the terrace of the field office, listening to the bustling city around you.

You never liked Los Angeles. It wasn’t like DC, there were too many people, too many skyscrapers, and the grating sound of traffic always made you want to scream. When you were working in sex crimes, you would head to the roof when things got too complicated to try and clear your mind. Most of the time it would work, other times, such as now, would just make you more irritated.

“You know, I’m not sure the air in this city is the best for clearing your head,” Hotch said as he exited out onto the terrace. You smiled to yourself as you stared out at the City of Angels.

“Did Penelope tell you to check on me?” you asked as he joined you at the railing.

“Maybe,” Hotch said with a shrug. “Are you okay?”

“Just frustrated,” you explained. “It’s been a while since we’ve been at such a big roadblock.”

“I wasn’t referring to the case, (Y/N),” Hotch said with a knowing look. You sighed, turning to look at him. “I’ve noticed you’ve seemed out of sorts for the past couple of weeks.”

“Which means the rest of the team has too,” you figured.

“Maybe, but they won’t confront you about it.”

“But you will?” you asked, amused.

“I’m your boss, it’s my job,” Hotch said. You smiled at that. “I’ve just seen a change in you and I’m assuming it is to do with your personal life.”

“Isn’t it always?” you asked with a chuckle. “I’m okay, Hotch. Just going through the awkward phase that happens after a breakup.” Hotch nodded in understanding.

“Ah, you and your boyfriend ended things,” he realized.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to make a big deal about it. Especially at work,” you said with a look that conveyed more than the words you were saying.

“I completely understand,” said Hotch. “On the brighter side, I think we may have an idea on how to draw the unsub out.”

“Am I going to like it?” you asked. Hotch grimaced. “I’ll take that as a no.”

-------

You were right, you definitely didn’t like it.

“Undercover?” you asked as you leaned against the wall of the conference room. Spencer sat in his chair across the room from you, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s the best idea we’ve been able to come up with,” Rossi said, “plus, with your work in sex crimes, you have the most undercover hours next to Emily.” You held your tongue before you could suggest why Emily just couldn’t do it. “You are the unsub’s type and so is Reid. If we are correct about the profile and where he is hitting next, the two of you should be the perfect lure.”

When Hotch and Rossi explained that you and Spencer would be going undercover as a married couple to the next charity event in hopes of finally catching Daniel Hill, the unsub, you were less than thrilled. This would not be your first time going undercover, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that you would have to pretend to be married to Spencer and by the looks of it, he seemed even less than thrilled about the situation.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Hotch asked, glancing between you and Reid.

“No, Sir,” you said and Spencer shook his head.

“It may be a little bit awkward with (Y/N)’s boo,” Morgan joked and Penelope kicked him under the table. When you didn’t laugh, Derek realized what the look on your face meant. “Oh…(Y/L/N), I didn’t realize…”

“It’s fine,” you said, pushing off the wall. “Robbie and I are done. It’s been done for a bit now and I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with so none of us have to stay in this city any longer.”

“Amen to that,” Emily said.

“I’m going to send debrief packets to your hotel rooms,” Hotch said. “The event is tonight so I need you to be ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” you and Spencer said at the same time. Hotch then dismissed the rest of you and you headed for the door, needing to get back to the hotel and start preparing for the evening. Spencer caught up to you as you walked through the office.

“Hey,” he said, pulling you to a stop, “are you going to be okay with this?”

“Yes, Spencer,” you said. “It’s our job and we’ll get it done.”

“I know, but we haven’t really worked closely together since you joined and to put on an undercover operation like this…” he trailed off, but you could tell what he was thinking. You always could.

“Spencer,” you said softly, “do me a favor, okay?”

“Anything.”

“For the next ten hours or so, let’s not be (Y/N) and Spencer. I agree that we have never truly talked about what happened between us since I joined the team, but tonight is not the time. I want to, I do, but we need to get through this night. So, until we get this son of a bitch, we are just two agents on a mission. No baggage. Deal?” Spencer let out a breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as he mulled over your words. Eventually, he nodded.

“Deal.”

-----

The undercover packet had arrived just as you stepped out of the shower.

It was a basic cover. You and Spencer would be attending the event as Mr. and Mrs. Kelling, a wealthy couple from Maine. Your alias, Miranda Kelling, was nothing like you and that was how you preferred it. The more you could distance yourself from an undercover mission, the better. Spencer was playing Anderson Kelling and he was the president of a tech conglomerate that Garcia was writing up now. At least he would be able to cover for the both of you if anyone asked any questions.

A little bit later, a knock came at your door, and you were met with a smiling Penelope. In her hands was a white garment bag. “Please tell me it’s not pink,” you said as you let her in.”

“Oh, please,” Garcia scoffed. “You act as if I don’t know you at all. Undercover or not, I know you would never wear pink.” You laughed quietly as Garcia laid the bag out on the bed and unzipped it.

The dress was simple. A dark eggplant color that was low in the back and high at the neck. The slit was tasteful and knowing Garcia, it would fit you perfectly. However, while it was beautiful, your heart jumped just looking at it. The color of the gown was the same color as the dress you had worn on your first date with Spencer when he had taken you to a film festival. Whether Penelope knew that or not, didn’t matter. You knew it would matter to him.

“Do you like it?” Garcia asked. You nodded, unable to speak. “I can get something else if you don’t.”

“Penelope, it’s great,” you said, “really. Please tell me you have shoes to go with it.” Garcia then smiled and held up the other bag in her hands.

“Strappy or pumps?” she asked, shaking the bag before you. You gave in and laughed along with your friend as you let her accessorize you for the gala.

It was another hour before Garcia left to meet up with Morgan and JJ who were outfitting their security van that would be parked in the loading zone of the venue. The next time someone knocked on your door. You knew who it would be.

Pulling the door open, Spencer stood there with his hands in his pockets and his signature smile. You stepped aside and he entered, looking around the room awkwardly. “Did you read through the packet?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

“Twice,” you assured him. “Is that why you’re here? To make sure I did my homework?” you asked, amusement in your eyes. He rolled his eyes and you could tell he was starting to loosen up a bit more.

“I just wanted to make sure we were on the same side for the cover,” he explained “And to give you this,” he said as he dug into his pocket and produced a small velvet box.

“Ah,” you said, realizing what it was. He handed it to you and you took it quickly, placing it down next to the necklace Garcia had brought for you to wear. You didn’t want to open it in front of Reid. Everything was already awkward enough. “So, Mr. Kelling,” you began, “tell me about your company.”

The two of you went back and forth asking questions about each other’s covers. Pretending to be other people was actually helping you talk to him. Thinking of him as this imaginary husband was much easier than staring into those warm brown eyes and seeing the man who once held you like you were the most important thing in the universe.

“You know,” Spencer said as he lay on his back on your bed, “Morgan was supposed to do this with you.”

“Derek? Undercover as a tech guy?” you asked with a laugh. Reid sat up and looked at you as you sat at the small table, your file in your hands. He smiled softly as you chuckled. “That would have been something to see.”

“Maybe next time,” Spencer said. “You know, once he’s had more time to prepare. Hotch asked me because I didn’t have to do any additional research. I would have said no, but we need to find this guy and since we’ve already gotten his accomplice, I just thought—”

“Spencer,” you said, cutting him off, “you’re running on fumes.” He took a breath. That was something you always said when he started rambling when he got nervous. It was also something he did when he was avoiding what he was actually saying.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said, “but just for the record, I’m not upset you were assigned to do this mission with me.”

“You’re not?” he asked. You shook your head.

“Nope,” you said and it was the truth. In fact, you were just incredibly nervous about being this close to him for the first time in years. “So stop stressing. Everything is going to work out fine.” You got up and approached him. You gripped him by the shoulders and looked at him in the eye. “Now, go put on your tux so we can get this bastard.”

------

You stood in front of the floor-length mirror as you fussed with the gown.

Garcia sure did know how to pick ballgowns. The deep purple dress fit you perfectly. Paired with the nude heels and the light jewelry, you looked as expensive as Miranda Kelling was supposed to be. The large diamond sat on your left hand felt way too heavy. You lifted your hand to your face, tilting it so the diamond glittered in the low light.

When you had first lifted the lid to the box, your eyes had widened at the sheer size of the diamond. Apparently Rossi knew someone in LA with ties to a jeweler and you were renting the piece for the evening. Just placing it on your finger felt...wrong. And not just because of the price,  but because you imagined the first time you wore a wedding ring it would on your actual wedding day and not for a sting.

The thought of Spencer having a matching band on his left hand sent a thrill through you that you weren’t expecting. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about it in the past. When the two of you were together at the academy, the subject of marriage had come up frequently. It was always said with a bout of laughter afterward. Neither of you had ever said anything to make the other think that you were being serious, but at times, you definitely were. Snapping out of your thoughts, you finished your look with a swipe of lipstick and then headed for the door.

Stepping out into the lobby of the garish hotel, you spotted Rossi immediately. He was dressed as a chauffeur as he would be the one to take you and Reid to the event to keep up appearances. Walking around the corner, you finally saw your date for the evening. Spencer wore a perfectly tailored tuxedo. His hair was combed and his shoes shined in the glittering light of the chandelier that swung above him. Hearing the clicks of your heels, he turned towards you and his mouth fell open.

He quickly controlled his expression, but you had seen it. The look in his eyes as he beheld you strolling towards him. It was a familiar look, one he had given you in the past and everything began flooding back. You tried to ignore it as you joined him and Rossi. “This is all very ‘James Bond’,” you said, looking at the three of you.

“Well, just go easy on the martinis you two,” Rossi said with a small smile. Then from his pocket, he produced a white rose. “Morgan got the partner to talk and he agreed to help if we offered him a deal. He made the call and told Hill that the target this evening will be with a beautiful woman and wearing this on his jacket,” Rossi said as he tucked the rose into Spencer’s lapel.

“Great, nothing says ‘murder me’ like a rose,” Spencer muttered as he adjusted the flower. You smiled to yourself at his attempt at a joke. Rossi was watching both you, his eyes flickering back and forth.

“Just stick to the plan and this will all be over before you know it,” Rossi said as he gestured you out to the car. You and Reid followed him, neither of you saying anything. You had expected it to be awkward, but this felt...alien. It was also starting to become clear why Hotch had assigned you to this mission with Spencer. He most likely figured you wouldn’t have to do much acting, but seeing him dressed up and with that wedding band on his finger, you felt as if you were looking at a stranger. You had no idea how you were going to make it through the evening.

-----

Arriving at the venue, Rossi helped you from the car, giving your arm a final squeeze before leaving you in Spencer’s capable hands.

As Rossi drove away, Reid held out his arm to you. Slipping into the character of Miranda Kelling, you took his arm and smiled at him warmly. Spencer, or rather, Anderson, smiled back and led you into the venue.

The party was fit for Los Angeles. The garish decorations were shiny metallic and smartly dressed waiters milled around with flutes of champagne. The other patrons were dressed just as well as the two of you and as they laughed, more champagne was poured and more money was spent. You weren’t even sure what charity they were supporting at the event.

Your eyes scanned the surroundings, trying to pick up on any agents, but Hotch had said nobody was going to be on the floor except for the two of you. Hill was too smart and would pick them out in a heartbeat.

You and Spencer walked around the room, keeping close to one another. As a waiter passed by, you grabbed a flute off the tray and drank half in one go. The liquid courage did nothing to satiate the nerves that bubbled in your stomach. As you finished your drink, you looked for another, but Spencer had stepped in front of you, giving you a concerned look.

“What?” you asked, keeping your face pleasant in case the unsub or others were watching.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “I know you aren’t thrilled to be with me tonight, but I can also tell that something else is bothering you.”

“Very perceptive,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “Look, I can’t talk to you about this right now.” He sighed and then took your hand. To anyone else, it would just look like a husband holding his wife’s hand, but you knew he was feeling for your pulse point. Something he always did when he wanted you to tell him the truth. It was both charming and infuriating.

“Is this about Robbie?” Spencer asked and your hand froze in his grip. He nodded to himself as he realized he had finally guessed right. “He never deserved you.” You took your hand back and tried to walk away. However, Spencer had another idea. Gently taking your wrist, Reid pulled you to the dance floor, spinning you into his arms.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you played along, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other in his right hand. The two of you swayed back and forth in silence for a moment before he finally spoke again. “You look so beautiful,” he said softly.

“Spencer,” you sighed, dropping your gaze to the buttons on his shirt, “please don’t.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You know why,” you said, your eyes meeting his. He looked down at you as if you were the only person in the room and it took you back to the first time you had danced with him.

It was at an event the Academy hosted for the new recruits. The two of you had just met during orientation and he had been bold enough to ask you to dance when he noticed you sitting by yourself at a lone table. Both of you had been very awkward on your feet, but you had managed to get a rhythm going and among all the laughter and stepping on toes, it had been the first step in developing feelings for the man before you.

“I noticed the color of your dress as soon as you walked into the lobby,” Spencer said, his fingers curling tighter around your own. “I always did love you in purple.” Ducking your head, you rested your forehead against his chest, just trying not to think about his hand on your waist or the fact that he was wearing the same cologne he always did. The one that smelled like wood and parchment. Reid pulled you in closer, his hand moving to the small of your back.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered.

“I don’t want you to think about him,” Reid said, turning you both in a slow circle, “because I can’t do it anymore.” Pulling back, you looked up at him with curious eyes.

“Do what?” you asked.

“All those months when you were with him… seeing you smile when you and Garcia spoke about him or when he would drop flowers off for you at the office,” Spencer sighed. “I couldn’t handle it, (Y/N).” Hearing that confession slip from his lips made you stumble in your heels. He kept his hands tight on you, keeping you steady. Just as he always had. “I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

Your eyes fell closed at his words and every emotion you had tried to shove down since the day the two of you had parted ways came surging back into the forefront of your mind. Spencer Reid was looking at you as if you hung the moon and while he would probably say something along the lines of ‘that’s impossible, a human wouldn’t be able to hang the moon’, that was what you saw in his eyes.

“Don’t you remember?” he continued.

“Spencer…” you said, but he couldn’t stop.

“My mom, (Y/N),” he said. “Don’t you remember how much she loves you? You were one of the only people who could keep her calm and she loved to tell you stories about the things she’s learned over the years. I remember everything about our time together.”

“You have an eidetic memory,” you reminded him.

“That’s not the reason I remember,” he said, placing his hand under your chin. You couldn’t help the tears that pricked your eyes at his words. At that moment, the mission was forgotten and everything was moving in slow motion. “Tell me, (Y/N),” he said, “tell me that you don’t love me, Tell me and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t do that,” you whispered. A small gasp escaped him at your confession and it was as if his entire body relaxed at your words. Spencer leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, drinking you in. The orchestra in the background played a score fit for the moment and if you weren’t supposed to be on duty, you would have stayed in that moment forever. Spencer pulled back and glanced down at your lips, but before either of you could move in closer, you spotted a man watching the two of you.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked.

“Hill,” you whispered, plastering a fake smile on your face as you looked up at your fake husband. “He’s dressed as a caterer. The long scar on his cheek is just as the partner said. Looks like Morgan’s interrogation techniques are getting better.” Spencer took you and spun you around so he could get a visual, glancing briefly before grinning down at you. He then lifted your left hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“Shall we go somewhere more private, Mrs. Kelling?” he asked and you nodded, taking him by the hand and dragging him towards the service hall. Everything in you was fighting to stay focused as you slipped back into your FBI persona. With Spencer’s confession, work was the last thing you wanted to do, but this man had killed enough people and the two of you were the last chance to take him down.

You and Reid pushed into the hallway, giggling like drunk teenagers.

You stumbled on your dress and he held you up, pulling on his bow tie. It didn’t take long for the killer to follow. You and Spencer were pressed against a wall, Reid’s hands going into your hair. He smiled down at you and slinked away as if you were playing a game. When he went to follow you, that’s when you were grabbed from behind.

“Move and she dies,” Hill said, waving his gun around. Spencer raised his hands in mock surrender and then he looked at you. “On your knees!” Hill yelled, but Spencer didn’t move. With a quick nod to you, you slammed your stiletto into the top of his foot. A shot rang out as the bullet pierced the ceiling, but you both moved faster. Spencer grabbed hold of the unsub as you took the gun from his grasp. Reid spun Hill around and slammed him into the floor.

“FBI,” Spencer said, “Daniel Hill, you are under arrest for the murders of Caitlin and Adam Dever, Brooke and Ryan Wood, Joanne and James Black, and Greta and Lewis Joy…” as Spencer continued to read him his rights, you disabled the gun and let out a deep breath. From your right, Hotch and Prentiss came running down the hall, their guns were drawn. JJ and Morgan weren’t far behind.

As Spencer got Hill to his feet, you turned and walked away. There was too much going on inside your mind and you had to get air. Walking past, Morgan, you placed the confiscated gun into his hands as you continued to move past your team. You could hear Reid calling out to you, but you couldn’t stop moving. You just needed to think.

-----

Once everything had calmed down, you all went back to your respective hotel rooms.

As soon as your door closed behind you, your heels were off and you headed right for the balcony. Garcia had texted you earlier and told you Hill would be processed and that Rossi and Emily had gotten a full confession out of him and his partner. That was enough for you to relax a little bit further, but there was still the issue of what happened before.

Then, as if the universe was listening there was a knock on your door. Pulling the sliding door behind you, you went to your door. You didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. Unlocking the chain, you pulled open the door and were met with Spencer. He was still wearing his disheveled tuxedo, but his hair was no longer neat. It was how he always wore, the way you loved it. In his hand was a single yellow lily, your favourite flower.

You stepped aside and invited him in, closing the door quietly behind you. “You just left,” he said as you turned to face him. His long fingers were holding the flower by its stem, twirling it around.

“I just needed time, Spencer.”

“I know,” he said with a soft smile and then offered you the flower. You took it, pressing its petals to your nose. “I know how you think (Y/N), which is why I waited a bit before showing up here.”

“You always did know me best,” you said as you lay the lily on the stand by the door.

“I still like to think I do,” he said, reaching for your hand. You let him take it as you had earlier on the dance floor. He dragged you towards him, placing his hands on your hips gently. “You are so incredible,” he whispered.

“I never cared about him as much as I cared for you, Spencer,” you admitted. “When I broke things off after we graduated from the Academy, I thought I was doing us a favor. I thought it would be too complicated, that we would struggle with the time apart. I was so wrong. I am so sorry that I didn’t believe in us enough to stay.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks at this point and Spencer was shaking his head.

“Don’t apologize, (Y/N),” he said. “I understand. I think I always did, but I meant what I said earlier: I never stopped loving you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“And you think I did?” you asked. “God, Spencer, I love you so much and I should have told you the moment I walked into the BAU.” Spencer’s face split into a grin and he didn’t even hesitate to pull you into him. His lips met yours and your hands wound into his unruly hair. Light burst behind your eyes as the two of you finally said hello once again. Spencer Reid was the one for you and you would never doubt that ever again.

“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.”― Paulo Coelho

#Spencer Reid #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #reader insert #spencer reid x reader #cm #cm imagine #aaron hotchner #david rossi #emily prentiss #jj #derek morgan #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.8

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Eight: Wild Love: Spencer gets something off his chest while you’re stuck in a hotel room. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading.     Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol consumption, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, this whole series is a real slow burn babyyy

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A/N: y’all are killing me with all the love on this story so far omg. i am so appreciative of every single comment, like, reblog, all the sweet things you say in the tags etc. etc. thank you and i hope you like this chapter (this one turned out to be more conversation than descriptions of feelings/thoughts just fyi) ! x

-

“Since we’re stuck here for the night, how about one more drink?” Luke asked, glancing between the team. “You buying?” Matt teased making everyone else chuckle. Luke rolled his eyes. “If that’s what it takes.”

All flights were grounded due to a heavy snowstorm. This meant that after solving their most recent case, the team were forced to remain on location. At a small bed and breakfast right in the middle of nowhere.

“I’ll have another drink.” Emily stated with a smile. “Sure, why the hell not. It’s not often I get a night away from my boys.” JJ added. Tara also raised her hand, indicating she'll have one more.

All heads turned to you and Spencer. The brunette doctor sat quietly in the corner. Clearly a lot on his mind. You were right by his side, gently resting your head against his shoulder.

A small yawn escaped your lips. “I think I’m gonna call it a night guys.” You said, slowly sitting up. “It’s been a heck of a day, and the bed is calling my name.” The group groaned, but didn't protest. Instead, they all looked to Spencer who seemed to be debating his options.

“What about you Reid?” Luke asked. “Care for another one?”

“Sure. Uh, I’ll walk Y/N to her room and I’ll be right back.” “It’s okay Spencer, stay. I’ll be fine.” You countered while getting up to your feet however, the handsome doctor wasn’t taking no for answer.

Unknown to you, unknown to everyone apart from Penelope, Spencer’s been trying to find the right moment to tell you how he really felt. He spent the last two months debating whether it was a good idea. The idea of telling you he was still in love with you scared the shit out of him because it could go one of two ways:

1. You feel the same way and call off the engagement. The two of you get back together and he spends the rest of his living breathing days making you the happiest woman on earth.

2. You don’t feel the same way and you end up resenting him for lying to you, his confession ruining your friendship.

Either way, someone will end up getting hurt.

“You really didn't have to come with me doctor.” You said stopping outside the door. Spencer shrugged his shoulders, his nose twitching simultaneously. “I wanted to. Plus sitting too long causes a number of health issues. Your leg muscles weaken. Your hip flexors shorten, and it can cause compression on the discs in your spine which can lead to premature degeneration, which results in chronic pain.”

You arched a brow. “So what you’re saying is that you’re really just looking out for yourself?”

“No, I-I, well...” He flustered and you couldn't help but chuckle. “We’ve been friends long enough for you to know when I’m just messing around.” Friends. The word stung. “Right. Sorry.” He glanced down at his shoes.

Sudden concern flooded through you. Gently, you placed a hand on the side of his face, and slowly lifted it back up. “Are you okay honey? You seem a little off, and I hope you don't mind me saying but it’s not just tonight.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Mind racing a million miles an hour. Of course you recognised his odd behaviour. He thought he did a good job at hiding his inner turmoil. Honestly, sometimes he forgets just how well you can read him. He forgets that you know him better than he knows himself.

“I hope you know you can talk to me.” You whispered, tenderly brushing loose strands of his hair away from his face.

The gleam in your eyes was so kindhearted. It was exactly that look that made Spencer think he truly didn't deserve you and that you were better off without him. It was also that look that made Spencer love you even more. The look that made him want to fight for you.

“Do ehm, do you think I could come in?” He asked after a moment of silence.

“Of course.” You let your hand fall back to your side. “Of course you can.”

Soon enough the two of you were sat at the edge of your bed. A noticeably tense atmosphere filled the air. Your eyes were glued to the side of his head, wondering what the hell was going on in that big brain of his, while Spencer looked down at his hands. Which at this point were trembling uncontrollably.

It didn’t take you long to notice, you could practically feel them vibrating against your leg. You reached out, giving them a little squeeze before intertwining your fingers with his.

“What’s going on Spencer? You’re starting to scare me.”

The hazel-eyed man took a deep breath before finally meeting your gaze. His features broken, as if he was about to burst into tears.

“I’ve been lying to you Y/N.” He stated quietly.

You furrowed your brows confused, taken aback by his admission. “W-what? What are you talking about? You’re the most honest man I’ve ever met.” You expressed, but he shook his head. His light curls bouncing perfectly. “I’m not. I’m really not.”

“Spencer.” “Please Y/N, please just… I… I haven’t been honest with you and it’s eating me alive. Usually you would be the person I turn to for advice on these things, but since it involves you… I-I really don’t know what to do.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s not that simple.”

You nodded your head slowly and swallowed your breath. “O-okay. Okay well, uhm… let me ask you this. If you don’t tell me, are you going to continue lying to me?” It was a weighted question which Spencer knew there was no right answer to. “Unfortunately.” He mumbled.

“Then I think, I think it is that simple.”

You were right. Every inch of him screamed you were right. Fuck. How the hell did it come to this? He had no trouble hiding his love for you these last few years.  He couldn’t understand why was it so difficult all of a sudden.

Abruptly, Spencer got to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair. A deep frustrated sigh escaping his lips as he loosened his tie. Your uneasy gaze locked onto him, following his every move. And as he closed his eyes, cracking his neck, you suddenly remembered that the last time he seemed this frazzled was the day the two of you broke up. Your stomach dropped.

“Oh no.” You whispered standing up. “Ohh Spencer.”

He turned on his heel to look at you once again. Your fingers were pressed to your chin, mouth slightly parted. You couldn’t possibly have figured it out?

“You’re breaking up with me.” It seemed like a silly statement considering you weren’t a couple. “I mean, you’re ending our friendship. That’s what this is, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore and you’ve been lying to me by pretending that you do.” There were noticeable tears in your eyes.

“What? No, no, no. It’s completely the opposite of that.”

“I don’t think I understand. The opposite of-”

“I love you.”

“Well of course, I love you too. You’re my best friend. You’re family.”

“No.” He took a step towards you and cupped your cheeks with his hands. “I’m in love with you Y/N.”

You blinked. Eyelashes fluttering as the realisation of what Spencer just declared washed over you. He saw your lips quaver and your eyes widen. The dots connecting in your mind. All the moments you spent together, the conversations you shared. Everything was running through your mind like a homemade movie, making it impossible it collect your thoughts.

“I know I said I moved on, and that’s where I lied.” Spencer continued as you stared at him, unable to move. “I never moved on Y/N. I tried, believe me I tried. But you are a part of me, a part of my soul. You are the reason I get out of bed in the morning. Seeing you, your smile. Hearing your laughter. Being able to talk to you, and just be around you. Your aura. Everything about you is so intoxicating and I messed up big time letting you go all those years ago.”

Tears began to trail down your cheeks as you bit down on your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. Tiny salty droplets that Spencer slowly wiped away using his thumbs.

“I never said anything because I wanted to be there for you, first and foremost, in whatever way you needed me. I wanted to remain in your life after we broke up because your friendship means the world to me. I guess I thought-t, I hoped that maybe one day we’d get back together. And I know it’s unfair for me to lay all of this on you now, I know. And I’m sorry, I can’t keep it to myself anymore. You, I think you deserve to know.”

Quiet sobs filled the room. Your whole body was now shaking under his touch. Heart aching. It felt like you couldn't breathe.

All you ever wanted was for Spencer to love you. All you ever wanted was for him to tell you that he made a mistake all those years ago and that the two of you belong together. 

“P-please say something.” His plea was barely a whisper.

All you ever wanted.

“I-I.. Spencer, I...”

You finally got all you ever wanted. The brunette doctor was standing in front of you professing his love, and yet it felt like he just stabbed you in the back. His declaration, those three cursed words you dreamt so long ago to hear come out of his lips again. It felt like the ultimate betrayal.

Don't know what to say to you now Standing right in front of you

-

A/N: FINALLY A LOVE CONFESSION ! honestly this chapter was a little hard for me to write... it took me a while to actually sit down to it and actually be happy with what i wrote idk BUT i hope you liked it and as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner​

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer rid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #champagne problems series

[sarcasmandships]

how to save a life ︱spencer reid

word count: 8.3k

spencer reid x slight oc

spencer and veronica argue over him keeping their relationship from the team, but when spencer sustains a life-threatening gun shot wound it puts everything into perspective 

angst + hurt/comfort with an eventual happy ending

this is not an x reader because i hate writing y/n in place of a character name and it often forces you into writing in second person which i also hate - however I have avoided giving specific descriptions of hair/eye/skin colour, height and body shape so feel free to imagine it like an x reader 

this is also heavily inspired by greys anatomy and ive taken characters from the show to be side characters, however you do not need to have watched a single episode of greys to follow the story 

warnings: mention of rape, mentions of past drug use, spencer being shot, descriptions of blood, spencer being a bit of a dick in part 1??

Veronica groaned and rolled onto her stomach, shielding her eyes from the dull light illuminating the room. Her body was stiff as she twisted to find a more comfortable position, but the glare from the lamp was still too bright, so she huffed and forced herself to sit upright.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Spencer whispered.

Veronica was still groggy and had to squint her eyes to focus on him. He was stood on the other side of her bedroom, half dressed in a pair of tight grey trousers and an unbuttoned pale blue shirt. Her eyes raked over his exposed skin.

She grumbled and flopped back down on the bed, “you’re lucky you’re pretty, waking me up at 5am on a Saturday.”

He frowned, “it’s an emergency – we just got called in on a case.”

“Is this your way of telling me you can’t come tonight?” she snorted, looking up at him lazily as her head rested on her pillow.

“The fundraising gala – right,” he said stiffly, slowly doing up his buttons, “it’s a local one, so we won’t be flying out, but I can’t justify sneaking off to a party while we’re working a case.”

“Its not a party,” Veronica said through gritted teeth, “parties are fun. This is a stupid campaign that Jackson organized to raise funds for the hospital. Where I’m expected to go and charm rich, old, white men into giving us money, and whichever department raises the most money gets a bonus-”

“And you think I’d have been a valuable addition to your efforts because?” Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because, you have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187 – that impresses everyone, and maybe it could’ve impressed some hedge fund manager enough to give me, and my department, the big bucks.”

“You flatter me.”

“Yeah, remember this feeling – cos’ you won’t be getting any more nice words from me for a while,” Veronica grumbled into her pillow; she pulled the duvet tighter around her body and screwed her eyes shut, they still hadn’t adjusted to the glow from the lamp.

Spencer had finished getting dressed, and he sighed deeply as he crept over to the bed. He crawled on top of the duvet and wrapped his arms around Veronica’s body.

“You know I would rather be with you, but if I don’t go to work, people die,” he whispered in her ear.

Veronica twisted her torso to face him, “Spencer I get it – if I don’t go to work people die too, I just hate your job when it means we can’t do things together. That gala just going to be full of dull, sleazy men – you would’ve kept me sane.”

He wrapped his arms around her, tighter, “I know, I hate it too. I just can’t leave in the middle of a serial case like this, plus even if I tried to the team would have too many questions because-”

Veronica’s body stiffened, and she unconsciously shifted away from him, “because you still haven’t told them about us, even though we’ve been together for years, and you know all my friends, and we go to work events together for my job. But we can’t for yours because you still haven’t told your team, who you consider family. I’m well aware of that fact, Spencer.”

“Veronica, you know it’s nothing to do with you. There are just some things I like to keep private from them-”

“I’m not a thing! I’m a person, and you’re not keeping it private, you’re keeping it secret. Private would be if they knew I existed but didn’t know all the details of our relationship, but that’s not what’s happening here,” she snapped.

“V, don’t be like that-”

“You should just go; you’ll be late for work. Wouldn’t want to let down your team like that.”

Spencer sighed and let go of her, he shuffled around the room gathering up his bag and coat before heading to the door.

“Goodbye, good luck at the fundraiser. Hopefully I’ll be home tonight, otherwise I’ll call you, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” she grumbled.

“I love you,” he said uncertainly.

Veronica couldn’t fight the smile that crept onto her face at his words, “I love you too,” she whispered back.

She stretched her arms out to Spencer’s side of the bed as she heard the front door click shut. The pillow and mattress were already cool from the absence of his body, Veronica let her heavy eyes fall shut and drifted off to sleep again.

She didn’t wake up again until hours later, when the sunlight crept through the gaps in the curtains and shone onto her face. Veronica unwilling pried her eyes open for the second time that day and fumbled for her phone on the bedside table to see if Spencer had texted her.

He hadn’t. Veronica’s heart sunk and her chest, he always texted her when he arrived at work. The only thing the glaring, bright screen of her phone informed her was that it was 11.57am, she had significantly overslept.

She quickly attributed it to the 17-hour spinal-cord tumour resection she had worked on yesterday and pulling the charger out of her phone she rolled over. Unlocking her phone, she sent a quick text to Spencer, reminding him that he needed to keep her updated when he was on a case or she’d assume he was dead.

But when she clicked ‘delivered’, there was a buzz from Spencer’s bedside table and Veronica strained her neck only to see that his phone was still there. She frowned, Spencer wasn’t a fan of his phone, but he never went to work without it, could he really have been so flustered from their spat that he’d forgotten it?

Whatever the reason, Veronica groaned, she wouldn’t relax all day without his periodic updates telling her that he was still alive, and she doubted he would trek all the way back to her apartment to get it.

She crawled out of bed and searched around for the first clothes she could find; a pair of dark running shorts, and her red ‘Harvard Med’ sweatshirt.  Flinging them on, she quickly sprayed herself with deodorant and grabbed her bag, keys, and Spencer’s phone before dashing out the door.

Veronica cursed Spencer as she thudded down the stairs of her apartment building, because of course, the lift was still broken. Dr. Spencer Reid was supposed to have an eidetic memory, and he forgets his phone? Idiot.

A wave of heat hit her as she stepped outside, rummaging around her bag for a pair of sunglasses to shield her eyes as she made her way over to her car. Veronica contemplated how to get the phone to Spencer as she drove, she obviously couldn’t call him to let him know she had it, and she didn’t have the extension for his desk phone.

She could hand it into someone at reception and ask them to take it up or ask them to call him down. But then she would have to talk to him again and Veronica wasn’t sure if she wanted to do that.

She knew it wasn’t his fault, she knew that he couldn’t control when serial killers decided to act out, she knew that he was out there saving lives.

But it was still frustrating they couldn’t go places like normal couples, if there wasn’t a serial killer terrorising some small town then she was being pulled in on an emergency surgery. If she were honest with herself, she didn’t know how much longer their relationship could go on like this.

At least they were in the same state this time, and they would hopefully get to sleep in the same bed whilst he worked on this case, she thought optimistically to herself as she parked her car on a side street near the FBI building.

Veronica was still debating whether to leave Spencer’s phone with the receptionist or have them call him down as she strolled across the street. But that decision was quickly made for her when she saw Spencer leaving the building, accompanied by a tall, bald man with dark skin and a short blonde woman, wearing an eccentric, neon dress.

They were laughing amongst themselves; Spencer ran a hand through his messy hair as he chuckled at something Veronica was too far away to hear. He looked so happy. She was about to turn around and sneak back to her car when Spencer clocked her, they made eye-contact and he stopped in his tracks.

His friends stopped to and after noticing that Spencer was staring at something, turned to look at her too. The man nudged him, but Spencer stood frozen his tracks. Veronica huffed, if he weren’t going to come to her, she would have to go to him.

“Spencer,” she said, as she approached them briskly.

“Veronica! We’re just going to grab lunch for the team, I…I was going to text you, but I-”

“Left your phone at my apartment,” she finished for him, holding out his phone, which he took gingerly, “hi! I’m Veronica,” she said brightly, turning to face the man and woman who were staring at her, dumbfounded.

“H-hi, I’m Penelope Garcia,” the woman finally spoke.

“Derek Morgan,” the man added, with a small wave.

They both lingered hesitantly a few steps away from Veronica and Spencer, evidently sensing the tension between them. Spencer wouldn’t make eye contact with her, he stared down at his feet, but Veronica stood her ground firmly.

“I’m literally standing right in front of them Spencer, are you still going to try and keep me a secret?” she seethed.

“I-I didn’t want it to happen like this,” he stammered.

“Right. You didn’t want it to happen, at all,” she said, turning on her heel to leave but Spencer lurched forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling her close into him.

“V, please don’t be like that – I wasn’t expecting you to show up at my job like this, I just needed a minute to process-”

“Process what? Your girlfriend doing you a favour? You’ve had a minute, and you clearly don’t want your friends to know me so just forget it Spencer,” she snapped, pulling her arm free from his grip.

“Veronica, please. I will introduce you properly later, just not right now,” he whispered, throwing an anxious glance back at Derek and Garcia. 

Veronica rolled her eyes, they weren’t even in earshot anymore and he was still whispering so they wouldn’t overhear.

“Why not right now? You aren’t tracking down an unsub right at this moment, you’re going to get lunch – is a sandwich really more important to you than me?”

“That isn’t what I said!”

“You didn’t have to say anything, Spence,” she smiled sadly, “I don’t understand why you don’t want the people closest to you to know that you’ve had a girlfriend for the past three years. I mean we basically live together, it’s a serious relationship, they should at least know I exist.”

“It’s more complicated than that-”

“No, it isn’t!” she cried, her voice louder and shriller than she intended, causing Derek and Garcia to step forward but Spencer waved them off, “are you embarrassed of me or something?” she asked, her eyes flickering between Spencer’s twisted expression and his friends.

“Of course not, don’t be stupid,” he snorted.

“I’m not being stupid,” she snapped, “but I can’t think of any other reason why you wouldn’t want them to know me. Not that you should have any reason to be embarrassed cos’ I’m a hot neurosurgeon, but maybe that’s not good enough for the sacred BAU,” she spat.

Garcia and Derek whispered amongst themselves as they gave the couple concerned looks.

“Veronica, please-”

“No, don’t,” she said firmly despite the tears burning in her eyes, “you’ve made it very clear where you stand. I have to go; I’m meeting April for lunch and then to get our hair done for this stupid gala. Text me to let me know you’re alive, otherwise don’t contact me,” Veronica turned to leave but Spencer gripped her arm again.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Veronica shook her head, “no, Spencer you could literally stab me through the heart, and I wouldn’t leave you. That’s the problem, I think I love you more than you love me – I just need some space.”

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to Morgan and Garcia, y-you can join us all for lunch,” he said desperately, trying to tug her towards them but Veronica pulled her arm away again.

“Too late Spence,” she sighed, “I meant what I said, still let me know you’re okay every few hours or I’ll worry. But please just leave me alone till you decide if you really want to be in this relationship.”

“Of course, I do Veronica! I lov-”

“Bye Spencer,” she said, kissing him softly on the cheek, “be safe.”

Veronica turned and dashed away from him, desperate not to let him see the tears threatening to spill over.

“Love you…” Spencer finished as he watched her disappear around a corner.

He was frozen for several moments as he stared longingly after her, but she would be in her car and long gone now. He tightened his grip on the phone she had handed him just moments before, the screen lit up and showed a text she must’ve sent before realizing he didn’t have his phone. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and turned on his heel to head back inside, but Derek was quick to grab his arm and pull him back.

“Hey, hey, hey, and just where do you think you’re going?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Inside,” Spencer snapped, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Derek gave him a pointed look, “I don’t think so kid, I’m gonna tell you what’s gonna happen – we’re gonna get in the car and go pick up lunch for everyone, it’ll take about 20 minutes, tops. That’s how long you have to explain whoever that was and why you’ve been acting so weird this morning, sound good?”

Spencer wrestled his arm out of Derek’ grip, “I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said sharply.

“Well see yeah you do pretty boy, cos’ that’s the second time you’ve snapped at me in under a minute so somethings obviously going on and I’m willing to bet it’s got something to do with Miss Harvard Med, who’s apartment you were in this morning,” he said with a knowing look, “now come on, cars this way,” he pointed to the left on the street and began to saunter off.

Spencer gave Garcia a desperate look, “Penelope, have my back here, I-”

She raised a hand up to silence him, “it doesn’t take a profiler to figure out that you’ve been acting weird all morning,” she shifted closer to him and took his large hand in hers, “I know you like to keep things to yourself Spencer, but you and I also both know that you keeping secrets doesn’t always end well, we aren’t asking you to give us every detail we just want to know what’s going on.”

Spencer huffed but didn’t disagree with her, he even let her tug his arm and lead him down the street after Derek, who was already waiting for them at the car.

“About time,” he said, lifting himself from his position leaning against the dark SVU to unlock it.

He climbed in the front seat and Garcia moved round to get in the passenger’s side, leaving Spencer to stand for a few seconds outside the car. He debated running back to the office for a few seconds, but Derek would definitely run after him, and he was a lot faster. Deciding he didn’t want to be tackled to the ground today, he grumbled and crawled into the back seat, slamming the door behind him.

“You gonna tell us why you’ve got such an attitude today now, kid?” Derek said as he turned the keys in the ignition and pulled away from the kerb.

“And who that girl was?” Garcia added.

“That was Veronica,” he shrugged, twirling the end of his tie in his hands.

“Yeah, she told us that much,” Derek sighed, “we mean who is she?”

“She’s a neurosurgeon at Stafford Grace Mercy West hospital,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“A neurosurgeon!” Garcia gasped, clapping her hands together, “our Doctor Reid found himself a doctor of his own,” she giggled.

“What? No! I just said she was a doctor; I didn’t say there was anything-”

Derek had his eyes focused on the road, but Spencer could picture the look on his face as he spoke, “I didn’t think neurosurgeons usually ran a drop-in clinic from their apartments, but y’know I’m not the one with an IQ of 187, so maybe I’m wrong.”

He gave Garcia a look and her face dropped.

Spencer swore under his breath and folded his arms tightly across his chest. He shifted uncomfortably in the back seat as Derek pulled up to the drive-thru and gave a shrug and a mumble when he asked him what he wanted to eat.

“Thank you very much ma’am,” Derek flirted with the woman in the window as she handed the paper bag of food through to him, he gave it to Garcia as he drove away, allowing her to pick through everyone’s fries.

“Y’know kid, we’ll be back at the office in 10 minutes or so and you can either tell me what’s going on now or back there, in front of everyone else.”

“It’s none of your business!” Spencer spluttered.

“You’ve not been able to focus at work all morning, every time someone has asked a question you’ve been tugging on your tie instead of giving us some long-winded statistic, then some girl we’ve never seen before shows up and you both start fighting-”

“We weren’t fighting,” Spencer grumbled, running a hand through his hair, “just a difference of opinion, that’s all.”

“A difference of opinion made her storm off like that, huh?” Derek mused.

Spencer balled his fists, why couldn’t Derek just leave it alone?

“We just want to make sure there’s nothing bad going on, Spencer,” Garcia said kindly, a handful of Emily’s fries in her mouth.

“Why do you think anything bad would be going on?”

Derek and Garcia exchanged looks.

“Hey! Why are you looking each other like that?”

Garcia twisted in her seat to face him, “we just noticed that recently you’ve not been coming out with us, you’re always rushing home after work, some days you’re really happy – and I love those days! – but other times you’re…irritable-”

“Like today,” Derek interjected.

“Right, and now this girl who just happens to be a doctor with a prescription pad shows up, and if she’s not your girlfriend then-”

“You think she’s my drug dealer?” Spencer snorted.

“Is she?” Garcia asked, alarmed.

“No!” he snapped, “fine! She’s my girlfriend, is that what you wanted to hear? Congratulations guys, you’ve finally gotten me to admit the one thing I didn’t want to tell you, whilst simultaneously accusing me of taking drugs again, and Veronica of abusing her medical license to sell drugs!”

“Hey! Kid I get if you’re upset but don’t raise your voice at Garcia like that, we suspected you were using again before Veronica ever showed up, her being a doctor just fit into the puzzle,” Derek said firmly, “I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell us she was your girlfriend and we could’ve moved on, you being so secretive about her is what made us think that there was something bad going on.”

“Well, there isn’t, except I have a pissed off girlfriend and a serial killer slashing women’s throats open, I don’t have time to pander to your feelings as well,” Spencer grumbled as Derek pulled up near the office again, he flung the door open and high-tailed out of the car, leaving Derek and Garcia in their seats gaping at each other.

He had dashed back inside the building; he couldn’t tell how close Derek and Garcia were behind him, but he was grateful they were far away enough to not catch the lift with him.

“Hey Reid,” Emily greeted him as he sulked back into the office, “where are Garcia and Morgan?”

Spencer shrugged, “they’re coming up now, they’ve got everyone’s food,” he mumbled, shuffling away to his desk.

“Okay…” Emily said, and shot JJ a concerned look.

Spencer sat down and stared blankly at the map in front of him. He was supposed to be working on the geographical profile, but his eyes blurred as he stared at the contour lines and he couldn’t make them refocus.

Derek and Garcia burst through the door minutes later.

“Lunchtime,” he called, as Garcia held the bag up above her head.

“Finally, I’m starving,” Emily groaned, making her way over to Derek to collect her lunch, “what’s going on with the good doctor?” she whispered under her breath, motioning with her head over to Spencer, slumped in his chair.

Derek hesitated, “we’re not entirely sure yet, I’ll let you know when I know,” he whispered back.

Emily nodded apprehensively and took her food from Garcia.

“I promise I didn’t eat all your fries,” she chirped, and Emily rolled her eyes.

The other team members came to collect their orders from Morgan and Garcia, all of them shooting concerned looks at Spencer. He dug his nails into his palms, the sharp twinge distracted him from everyone’s stares.

Spencer didn’t show any intention of coming to get his lunch, so Derek took the bag from Garcia and strolled over to Spencer’s desk. He dropped the bag down on top of the map.

“You wouldn’t answer me when I asked what you wanted, so I picked for you.”

Spencer didn’t look up, “hmm not hungry,” he said, twirling a pen in his hand.

“C’mon kid, I’m sorry Garcia and I implied that you were using again, but we’ve noticed you acting weird for a while and we thought that was the most plausible-”

“So, you thought it was more likely I was shooting myself up with dilaudid than it was that I had a girlfriend? Cos’ who would want to date me right?” he snorted.

“Spencer, you know that’s not what I meant, but you never gave any indication you were seeing someone, I thought if you were then you’d have mentioned it to at least one of us.”

Spencer curled his lip.

“So…why didn’t you mention anything?”

“Because…because we spend so much time together, and you all know so much about me I just wanted to have something that was my own,” he said hastily.

“Okay, I can understand that, so I won’t ask too many questions – I just want to know: does she treat you good? Does she make you happy?”

“Yes,” Spencer murmured.

“That all I’m gonna get, pretty boy?”

Spencer nodded stiffly, “for now.”

“Am I gonna get to meet her?” Derek asked softly.

“You did meet her.”

Derek rolled his eyes, “I mean properly, I would like to introduce myself as the guy who saves your ass on the daily,” he said, nudging Spencer’s shoulder gently.

He tried to fight the smile creeping onto his face, but failed, “you’re getting nowhere near her if you’re gonna lie like that.”

Derek chuckled and held up his hands, “okay, okay I get it – pretty boy’s gotta protect his reputation in front of his girl.”

Spencer gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded, he continued to twirl the pen in his hand, “something like that.”

“Guys, I think we might have something,” Hotch said, stepping out of the conference room with Garcia and Rossi close behind him.

JJ and Emily nodded, standing up from their desks to join him. Derek moved to follow but Spencer grabbed his arm quickly.

“You won’t say anything will you?” he asked nervously, “not until I’ve had a chance to talk to Veronica, at least. She’s got this fundraising gala for work tonight, and I don’t know when we’ll get home. We’re in the same state and we probably won’t get a chance to talk till this case is over,” he said miserably.

Derek nodded, “your secrets safe with me, pretty boy,” he said, clapping Spencer on the bag before sauntered away and up the stairs.

Spencer smiled, grabbed his lunch from his desk and followed.

***

Veronica drummed her nails against the table as they waited for their waitress to return with their drinks.

“You know I was going to say that it’s a bit early for the wine you just ordered but now I think you should’ve gotten a large,” April commented, watching how Veronica fidgeted in her seat.

“Yeah, well I figured I should start preparing early for this stupid gala,” she mumbled.

“Hey! Jackson has worked really hard organizing this, I think it’ll be fun!”

Veronica rolled her eyes, “you think going to the DMV is fun, so you don’t get much of an opinion here, Kepner.”

“It is fun!” April began but Veronica gave her a pointed look, “right...not about me. Veronica, what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird since you got to my apartment, and I know you’re not looking forward to the gala, but I don’t think that’s what’s on your mind.”

Veronica shrugged, “it’s Spencer, he-”

She was interrupted as their waitress returned, “okay! Diet coke for you, and a pinot griot for you,” she said, placing their respective drinks down in front of them, “are you ladies ready to order?” she chirped, Veronica wanted to roll her eyes at the perkiness radiating off of her, but reminded herself that she was just doing her job.

“I’ll have the chicken Caesar salad please!” April responded, matching the waitresses bright and bubbly demeanour.

Veronica tapped her foot against the floor, “I’ll have the double bacon cheeseburger with Cajun fries please,” she said, giving her best attempt at a smile.

“Excellent!” she said, taking their menus, “I’ll get that out to you soon as its ready.”

“Thank you!” April said, her voice sweet and sing-song-like, until the waitress had disappeared out of sight and she turned to glare at Veronica, “double bacon cheeseburger! You have a tight dress to wear tonight, do you want to be bloated?”

“April, I really don’t care,” Veronica said flatly, taking a large swig of wine from her glass.

April gaped at her lie a fish but quickly composed herself, “what did Spencer do that’s so bad he’s got you comfort eating and drinking?”

Veronica paused to take another gulp of wine before she answered, “it’s not what he did it’s what he didn’t do. First of all, he was supposed to come to the gala with me tonight and keep me from punching one of those rich, old, pervs in the throat but then he got called into work on a case – which sucks, and I’m upset he can’t come but like I can live with that, we get pulled into emergency surgeries all the time, so I get it,” she ranted, taking another sip of wine.

“But?” April prompted.

“But everything comes back to the same issues with us, he refuses to even tell his team about me. And these guys, April, they’re like his family! But they have no clue I even exist; he always says it’s because he’s a private person and he shares so much with them that he just wants to having something to himself…but more and more it just feels like he’s embarrassed by me.”

“Oh, Veronica,” April gushed, her voice dripping with sympathy, “I’m sure that’s not true, but it’s so easy to get in your own head about things like this, when Jackson and I were sneaking around I felt the same way.”

“Yeah, and then you got married,” she snorted.

“And then we got divorced.”

“Is this your way of telling me I should break up with Spencer?” Veronica asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No!” April said quickly, “I’m just saying that Jackson and I didn’t work out because we had too many fundamental differences, but you and Spencer aren’t like that, your problems are coming from external factors and they’re far easier to fix than internal ones. If you gave him an ultimatum, you introduce me to your team or it’s over, then I really doubt that he’s going to let you walk away.”

Veronica shook her head, “he’d know that’s an empty threat, I already told him I would never leave him.”

“When did you tell him that?” April demanded.

“About 20 minutes before I showed up at your place, he left his phone at my apartment, so I went to drop it off at his work but when I got there, he was coming out with two of his friends – I was right in front of them and he still didn’t want to introduce me. And I told him that I couldn’t break up with him, but I thought I love him more than he loves me.”

“And what did he say?”

“Well, then he said I should come to lunch with them, but it was so obvious that he didn’t really want that, he was just trying to cover his own ass,” she shrugged, “so I told him it was too late and then I left.”

“Why didn’t you go with them? Then you would have met them, and this would all be resolved,” April gaped at her.

“Because he didn’t want me there! Besides they don’t even get a proper lunch break, they were just going to pick up food for everyone else. I don’t want to meet my boyfriend’s closest friends in the 20-minute drive to Burger King and back,” she huffed, sitting back lazily, and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Have you tried explaining to him how he’s making you feel by doing this?”

“Only every time we fight, I say I’m sick of him not taking me to parties with his work friends cos’ he doesn’t want them to know about me, but the rest of the team has their partners there, so he just stopped going out with them all together. He would rather not see his friends outside of work than take me with him, you can’t try and tell me that’s not weird.”

April shook her head hesitantly, “no, I agree that its strange, but I’ve also met Spencer and I’ve seen first-hand how much he adores you, whatever is going on, I don’t think it’s because he’s ashamed of you.”

Veronica didn’t answer her. She didn’t have the energy to argue back, if there was another reason as to why Spencer was hiding her, she couldn’t figure it out.

Thankfully, the waitress returned with their food and interrupted April, who Veronica could tell was about to launch into some motivational speech. She took a huge bite from her burger, savouring the salty bacon and tangy tomato relish that made her feel instantaneously better.

April gave her a disapproving look as she delicately tucked into her salad, “I was going to say you need to eat quickly or we’ll miss our appointment, but I see you’re doing that all on your own.”

“We’ve still got another hour, chill out, Kepner.”

April rolled her eyes, “you’ve forgotten the plan, already haven’t you?”

Veronica froze, with a handful of spicy, Cajun fries in her mouth, “plan?” she questioned, her voice muffled.

“I told you yesterday, Veronica!” she whined, “we were going to get our hair done at the salon but now she’s going to come to Cristina’s apartment since its way closer to where the gala will be – so we need to drive back to your apartment to pick up your dress and makeup and then we’ll head to Cristina’s to get ready there.”

“Don’t we need to pick up your stuff too then?”

“No, because I was organized and put mine in the back of the car,” she said with a glare, “you did pick up your dress, right?”

“Yes, have some faith in me,” Veronica grumbled.

“You didn’t remember the plan! You could’ve just as easily forgotten to get a dress.”

“I’m pretty sure you never told me about the plan,” Veronica teased.

“I did!”

“When?”

“Yesterday, after you came out of surgery.”

“You told me after my 17-hour spinal cord tumour resection, and actually expected me to remember a word that you’d said?”

“Shut up and eat your burger,” April huffed, and Veronica chuckled as she took another large bite.

***

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in the passenger’s seat of the SVU, he was irritated. They had been chasing a lead since lunch and it hadn’t panned out, he and Derek were on their way back to the office now.

He turned down the radio; the music was so loud he couldn’t hear himself think. It was getting dark outside now, and the streetlights reflected off of the window he stared out of, the glare hurt his eyes. Spencer re-adjusted his bulletproof vest; it was tight and digging into his chest. He flicked on the AC; the car was too hot.  

“Hey kid, you wanna sit still for 5 minutes?” Derek mused.

“I’m just frustrated, I really thought we got him,” he grunted.

“I know me too, but everyone’s doing everything they can to catch him-”

“He’s escalating! He’s raped, killed and dumped two women since lunch, in broad daylight – everyone might be doing everything he can but that isn’t enough.”

“I know this isn’t an easy case, but we’ve dealt with things like this before and you never act out like this, so what’s going on? Is this about your fight with Veronica?”

“No! I mean…” Spencer dragged his hand through his hair, “it’s not about the fight but it is about her, all the women he’s killed so far sort of look like her – same hair and eye colour, same height and body type….”

“Spencer, we know he’s taking these women as surrogates for a Linda Johnson, it doesn’t have anything to do with her-”

“But he could take her, she’s with her friends right now, getting ready for this work thing. The second victim was at a party with friends when he took her, and she looked exactly like Veronica – they could’ve been sisters.”

Derek pulled the car over to the side of the road.

“W-what are you doing?” Spencer stuttered, “Hotch said he wants everyone back ASAP.”

“Hotch can wait,” Derek said sharply, “now listen to me kid, Veronica is gonna be just fine, she’s gonna be at some fancy, little party full of other doctors. We profiled that the unsub wouldn’t be able to blend into an environment like that, that’s why all his other victims were taken in nightclubs or back alleys. She will be fine, okay?”

Spencer didn’t answer.

“Kid, I need you to answer me so I know you’re still in there,” Derek said, nudging him, “I can see that brain of yours going into overdrive.”

“We profiled that the unsub wouldn’t be able to fit in with educated or upper-class groups because of poor social skills and lack of education…” Spencer began slowly.

“Right,” Derek agreed with him.

“And that’s why we went to Tommy Jones’ house, because he fits the profile, but his alibi checks out….”

“What are you getting at here, Reid?”

“It doesn’t make sense, all the women were taken from dive bars or dangerous areas, but they were all also upper class, well educated women – they wouldn’t just go off with someone who they thought was a threat….”

Derek nodded slowly, “…and we know he used some kind of a ruse to get them in his van because all of the victims had minimal defensive wounds.”

“Right, so our unsub would have to be someone these women would trust, and the psychology of implicit bias show that we are consciously and unconsciously more trusting of members of our perceived in-group,” Spencer added, “so what if our unsub is someone connected to Linda Johnson but from the same rich, ivy-league educated background as her.”

“Okay, but we already vetted all of Linda’s male family members, friends and boyfriends of friends – they’re all clear. And she’s still with her high-school boyfriend who’s been in California all week….”

“Call Hotch, Linda should still be at the office, maybe he can find a male from the same financial and educational background as Lisa who has since lost social status and lost touch with her, our unsub could be someone who has lost access to that kind of lifestyle and blames Lisa for it.”

“Okay kid, whatever you say,” Derek said, he grabbed his phone and dialled Hotch’s number, “hey Hotch, Reid thinks the unsub is someone who came from the same background as Lisa but has lost some kind of status and blames her for it, can you ask if anyone fits that description?”

Spencer looked on in anticipation, his heart hammering in his chest. Derek switched his phone to speaker-mode as Hotch came back.

“Morgan, I think we got something. Linda says her high school had a tutoring program, a boy called Phillip Davis used to help her with biology and chemistry, she always suspected he had a bit of a crush on her, but she never returned the feelings. He left the school when his father went bankrupt and he lost all their money, they haven’t spoken in years that’s why she never mentioned him.”

“Linda posted on Facebook that she’d been accepted for a master’s degree in biochemical sciences the day before the killings started, that could be the trigger if Davis feels he helped her enough with her studies to get into a master’s program, but she never showed any appreciation,” Spencer said nodding.

“And if he went to the same private school as Linda, he would have the social skills to fit in with other upper-class women,” Derek said.

“Good work Reid,” Hotch said, “you two are closet to his home address, Garcia’s already sent it to your phones, I’ll meet you there – JJ and Prentiss will check out his work address.”

“You got it Hotch,” Derek said before he hung up the phone and drove off again, “we’re gonna get him kid, don’t you worry.”

Spencer nodded, “I know, just I’ll relax better when he’s in handcuffs.”

“He will be soon.”

Spencer didn’t say anything as Derek raced along side-streets. He had flicked the sirens on as they overtook other cars, and they blared in Spencer’s ears. He switched them off when they pulled up outside Philip Davis’ house, he stared up at the dimly lit house for a second before he followed Derek in exiting the car.

His ears were ringing.

Derek was on the phone again, “yeah Hotch, we just got here.”

Spencer’s heart hammered against his ribcage. He yanked down his bulletproof vest again; it was really uncomfortable.

“Hotch says they’re five minutes out, he wants us to wait until they get here to go in,” Derek said and leant against the exterior of the car.

Spencer nodded but his heart seized in his chest; he didn’t think he could wait five whole minutes outside. He tapped his foot against the uneven concrete and peered up at the house.

A light flicked on in one of the upstairs windows.

“Morgan!” he hissed, “do you see that? He’s definitely in there.”

“I know kid, but Hotch says Lina told him that this guy is really aggressive, and Garcia confirmed he owns a whole arsenal of firearms. He just wants us to have backup before we go in, he’s bringing S.W.A.T as well.”

Spencer huffed, “why does it feel like we’re always just standing around waiting for S.W.A.T to show up?”

“Tell me about it, pretty boy,” Derek grinned, “they wouldn’t know how to be on time if-”

He was interrupted by a piercing scream that came from inside the house, Derek and Spencer instinctively grabbed their guns.

“That was definitely a woman,” Derek whispered, “but he didn’t bring any of the other victims back to his house, why her?”

“We’ve amped up the police presence all over the city and set up roadblocks, maybe he was starting to feel cornered, and didn’t want to be caught in the act – we can’t wait for backup any longer, we have to go in.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek said, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text to Hotch, “okay kid, lets go,” he nodded at Spencer and began to advance towards the house, his gun held out defensively in front of him.

Spencer took a deep breath and followed him. He really wanted to text Veronica and let her know that he was okay for now, but that he and Derek were about to burst into an unsub’s house. Who apparently happened to a violent, gun fanatic.

Derek had kicked the door down, “Kevin Davis, FBI! Come down with your hands up.”

There was no response.

Derek silently motioned to the stairs and Spencer nodded, he followed as they crept across the hall. Derek looked back at him for approval before he began to slowly climb the stairs, Spencer readjusted his vest again before he followed.

The stairs creaked slightly under their feet; the house was a mess and they carefully stepped over clutter as they made their ascent. Derek had made it safely to the top landing when the first gunshots were fired.

He shouted something but Spencer couldn’t hear him, his voice overshadowed by the pulsing of blood in his ears. He was still stood on the top step; he didn’t have the clear view that Derek had of Kevin Davis emerging from a room with an assault rifle in hand.

Spencer’s ears were stilling ringing from the first round of warning shots.

“Kevin Davis, FBI – put the gun down,” Derek ordered, his own gun firmly fixed at the unsub, who only gave a twisted grin in response.

It all happened so fast.

The unsub was in the doorway to a bedroom when a young, disheveled woman burst out of it and sprinted past him and Derek to reach the staircase.

She was screaming the entire time.

And then the unsub was roaring curses after her.

She reached the top of the stairs where Spencer stood, he reached out a hand to help her, but she recoiled away from his touch and shoved him out of his way.

Derek was yelling something.

But Spencer couldn’t make it out because he was suddenly at the bottom of the stairs, his body ached, and he couldn’t discern the screams from the woman from the sirens in the distance. Or Derek’s words from the unsub’s.

His ears were ringing, and his abdomen hurt.

The vest was digging into his chest again and he gasped for air; why couldn’t he breathe?

He grabbed his gun, which was only a few feet away from him and crawled onto his knees. Every shaky intake of breath left him with a sharp, stabbing pain in his side.

He tugged at his vest again.

Spencer gripped onto the banister of the staircase and used it as a support as he began to pull himself up. He hadn’t even fully unbent his knees when there was another loud gunshot, it echoed around the hall.

After that, everything started spinning and the ground swayed under Spencer’s feet.

There were more muffled yells from upstairs, and the wailing sirens were getting louder.

“The pitch of the sirens…its getting higher,” Spencer mumbled, to no one in particular, “it means they’re getting closer…the Doppler effect…” Spencer gasped for a breath and collapsed to his knees.

He didn’t wince as his kneecaps smashed against the hard tiles.

He couldn’t breathe, the stupid vest.

He was vaguely aware of black shapes moving around him as he lifted his hands to readjust his vest, when he pulled his hand away his fingers were slick with blood.

One of the black shapes was dragging him, away from the stairs.

Kevin Davis was in handcuffs, screaming as he was hauled past Spencer.

“Reid!” a voice called.

Spencer looked around, dazed. He couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.

Someone was taking his vest off, he wanted to thank them, but the words wouldn’t come out.

He looked down at himself, and saw his pale, blue shirt soaked in blood.

Blood.

Spencer didn’t mind it in crime scenes, he had to stare at mutilated corpses all day and didn’t mind their blood.

This was his blood.

Something acidic was rising in his throat.

 And something was lifting him, heaving him outside. When the cool air hit Spencer, he felt it more than he had felt the bullet when it tore through his chest.

 Derek was hovering over Spencer; he waved a hand in front of his face, but his eyes were still glassy and unfocused. He was laid against the rough concrete; it was uncomfortable, and his spine dug into the hard surface. He could feel that dull ache in his side again.

 “Adrenaline…” he choked.

 “What are you talking about, kid?” Derek asked frantically.

 “Adrenaline, when the sympathetic nervous system is activated adrenaline kicks in and stops you from feeling pain,” he gasped.

 “Reid, save your energy okay – now isn’t the time for you to give me a fun science fact,” Derek said with a forced chuckle and sad smile.

 Spencer tried to shake his head, but he only succeeded in scrapping his scalp against the tarmac, “I’m telling you…because the adrenaline in my body is wearing off…it hurts,” he whimpered, screwing his eyes shut.  

 “Spencer! Spencer! You need to stay awake,” Derek was begging, “the ambulance will be here soon, I know it hurts but you gotta stay awake for a bit longer.”

 Spencer managed to muster up the strength to speak, “Derek?”

 “I’m right here, kid. We got him, we got the unsub – Hotch is taking him down to the station right now, and then he’s gonna meet us at the hospital with Emily, and JJ, and Rossi…so you gotta hold on, okay?”

 “Okay…” Spencer whispered; he was on his back staring up at the sky.

 The stars especially bright tonight.

 “Come on kid stay with me,” Derek pleaded as he held pressure on Spencer’s chest, “the ambulance is almost here, and we’re so close to the hospital - just hold on a bit longer.”

 Stars…that meant something to him, his brain was too foggy to recall what.

 “Did you know, that astronomers estimate that in our Milky Way galaxy alone, there are about 300 billion stars,” Spencer rambled as they walked along the street.

 It was dark, and stars sparkled like diamonds against the deep, velvety sky.

 “I didn’t know that, but I suppose you are the genius here for a reason,” Veronica grinned, his hand was wrapped around hers as she tugged him along.

 Spencer wasn’t looking at the stars anymore, he stopped in his tracks which caused Veronica to stop two steps ahead of him. He gently pulled her close to him, so she was pressed against his chest .

 “Veronica, I…I think that I’m in lo-”

Veronica.

 Spencer wriggled his arm as he tried to guide his hand to his pocket.

 “Hey, hey, hey don’t move,” Derek said, panicked, “you bleed more when you move!”

 Spencer fumbled around his pocket for his phone, he eventually managed to pull it out and held it out for Derek to take. The screen was decorated with droplets of blood which had transferred from his hand.

 Spencer couldn’t look at it; blood, its just blood, he told himself.

 “Veronica...” he gasped through short, jagged breaths, “call Veronica...” he said, his hand trembling from the strain of hold his arm up.

 Derek took the phone from him and shoved it in his own pocket, “okay, okay, when we’re in the ambulance I’ll call her,” he said, nodding.

 Veronica needed to know. He needed to make her understand why he had never introduced her to his team, she needed to know it wasn’t her fault. She needed to know that he wasn’t embarrassed of her, that he loved her more than anything, that he did want to be in this relationship.

 Spencer gave a weak smile, “tell her...tell her I...” Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut, and his face, previously screwed up with pain, went slack.

 Derek cursed under his breath as he put more pressure on the wound, he was already losing too much blood. The faint wails of sirens were growing louder until an ambulance pulled up next to Derek and a pair of paramedics dashed round to help him.

 “He just lost consciousness, I’ve been trying to stop the bleeding...” Derek said, he moved back to allow the paramedics in to help Spencer.

 They rolled him onto a stretcher and lifted him up into the ambulance, one of them ran back round to climb in the divers side whilst the other got in the back with Derek. He kept pressure on Spencer’s gunshot wound as the paramedic inserted an IV into his arm, supplying him with more blood. 

 “Here, let me take over. You sit back,” the paramedic said, motioning to Derek’s blood-soaked hands.

 He nodded and dragged his heavy arms away from Spencer’s body. He stared at his face, peaceful from the lack of pain, and pale from the lack of blood. 

 That’s when he remembered Spencer’s words, what could be his last words, call Veronica. Tell her I...

 Derek pulled Spencer’s phone from his pocket and unlocked it, he scrolled through his contacts app till he reached the ‘V’ section.

His finger hovered over Veronica’s name before he finally clicked on it. It rung and rung and rung. Derek’s heart seized in his chest - what if she didn’t answer? 

 Just as Derek thought it was going to go to voicemail, he heard a voice on the other side of the phone. There was loud music and chatter, but Derek could just make out Veronica’s voice.

“Spencer, I told you-”

 “Hi, Veronica,” his voice cracked, “it’s Derek Morgan, we met earlier today...”

read part 2 here 

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#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #derek morgan #angst #hurt and comfort #fluff #spencer reid imagine hurt #spencer reid imagine angst #spencer reid headcanons #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds imagines

[spencersawkward]

switchblade faith // spencer reid - chapter 3

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

word count: 4k

content warnings: mention of rape and victim-blaming (talking about Clea's previous job in sex crimes— not her personal experience).

masterlist

this chapter is drawn from the season 1 episode 17 episode "A Real Rain," which is supposed to be in New York, but I didn't wanna write about New York so I changed it to Boston.

I drop a second sugar packet into my coffee before taking a tentative sip. my face twists in discomfort. previous to working here, I would bring my own thermos from home and it would last me all day, but I've had to up my caffeine intake to two or three cups.

"you get used to it." JJ walks over to me, steeping her tea. despite the fact that it's early, she's perfectly put together. her hair is tied up and her eyes are sparkling.

"how?" I laugh. she points to the coffee pot, which is fresh and yet somehow tastes slightly stale.

"when you've been up for twenty four hours, you won't care how it tastes."

I avert my widened eyes at this.

"you could do what Spence does and just add a bunch of sugars." she tilts her head towards Reid, who is rocking back in forth in his spinny chair with a huge volume open in front of him. he doesn't even notice us staring at him.

"ew, what?" I giggle. JJ nods.

"hey, Spence!" she calls across the office. his head pops up to frown at us.

"yes?"

"how many sugars do you use?"

"five. occasionally six." he says this without a hint of the shame it deserves. my eyebrows shoot up and I take another sip of the bitter drink, trying to ignore the taste. it coats my tongue.

"see?" she smirks. "just so you know, we have another case. meeting in five." she sashays away to the conference room, leaving me standing there with an overwhelming urge to sweeten my drink. I keep it at three and add a splash of creamer to drown out the bitterness, then walk briskly to my desk to grab a few of my things.

"we have a meeting, Reid." I say across the divider between our spaces. he holds up an index finger, slams the book shut, and grabs his things. I wait for him to get collected before we head up.

"what were you reading?" I ask, peeking at his workspace. books are lined up against the divider, loose papers scatter the surface, and there are three uncapped pens littered about. his disorganization surprises me.

"War and Peace." he replies, checking his watch.

it's not even nine am.

...

I'm staring out the window of the jet while Morgan and Prentiss battle out yet another card game with Reid. there's not much to see until we slice through clouds and fly over Boston, which is glittering in the early light. I sigh and turn back to my book, tucking my legs up beneath me.

"this is not how I planned to visit." Morgan notes, looks through his cards.

"I'm looking forward to seeing Boston." Spencer smiles softly. at this, all of us look up.

"you've never been?" Morgan asks doubtfully. Emily snorts.

"we've never had an unsub there." Reid doesn't seem to think this strange at all. Morgan and I share a glance before he speaks.

"Reid, it's an hour-and-a-half flight."

"I'll show you around if we have some time." Emily smiles reassuringly at the boy genius.

"it's an easy trip, man." Derek chuckles. Spencer isn't bothered by our teasing. instead, he draws another card from the deck and focuses on his game.

"I've never been either." I state. the team turns to me with surprised expressions, causing my cheeks to flush.

"you, too?" Morgan makes a face like I've disappointed him.

"I've been meaning to go." I shrug. "there's an exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts that I wanna see."

"what exhibition?" Spencer doesn't look up from his hand.

"uh, Titus Kaphar." I haven't had the opportunity to travel much, so a lot of the art I've seen has been from a computer screen or in class in college. it would be nice to actually get some experience seeing things face-to-face.

"Shifting the Gaze!" Spencer's face snaps up to beam at me, referencing the piece so vehemently that it makes me laugh.

"yeah, exactly."

"I went to his talk a couple years back."

"no way. really?" I shut my book and lean forward while he nods. Prentiss and Morgan are watching our conversation like a tennis match. while Reid rambles about all the things he heard at the lecture, I listen intently. it's good, because I don't really feel like talking right now; my head is pounding all over again, and this is distracting.

"do you ever go to the art museums in DC, then?" I ask once he's finished. Reid gets this crooked smile on his face like he wants to say a bunch of things, but is holding his tongue. his face is animated when he tells me about the other exhibits he's seen at the Smithsonian and apparently abandons his cards. Prentiss and Morgan have lost interest in our conversation; they start their own game and let us talk for the rest of the flight.

when we touch down, I immediately feel overwhelmed by the crush of people around us. our first crime scene is a taxi cab in Hyde Park, where the driver has been blindfolded, shot in the chest, and stabbed right through his ear. the blade, broken off from the handle, is lodged in his brain.

despite the fact that his kills are violent and seemingly random, the unsub definitely isn't disorganized. he carries his MO out the same way each time, which makes all of us question if we've missed a connection between victims.

"it's possible he's a sort of serial killer groupie." Spencer notes as he examines the inside of the cab, which is splattered with a mix of rainwater from the night before and blood. I shift where I'm standing to try to follow his line of sight.

"what do you mean?"

"Lawrence Bittaker and Roy Norris drove ice picks into their victims' heads and broke off the handle." he explains.

"well, if he's doing that, then he's presenting a mixed profile." I frown.

"exactly."

"mixed profile?" the police officer next to me asks.

"yeah. the fact that this guy is shooting his victims first suggests that he needs a quick and effective means of controlling the situation, which means that he probably doesn't think he can overpower them." I say.

"he could have a physical problem-- or maybe he's just not confident because he's small." Reid is still examining the taxi for any further evidence, but it seems sort of pointless.

"plus, he's organized and hunts at night. that tells us he most likely has a steady job."

"so," the cop stares between us with a perplexed expression. "we're looking for a small, angry white guy with a day job?"

the sarcasm in his voice makes me smile a little.

"I know it doesn't narrow down a lot right now, but we know that this guy isn't blitz attacking his victims. it's more of an execution."

the officer nods at this and my phone buzzes in my pocket. I turn to Reid.

"we gotta go."

Spencer nods curtly, straightens, and starts to immediately walk back to the car. I shake my head at his behavior, then follow after.

...

we get called to visit a new crime scene in the morning, this time in a church. Hotch holds the door open for me and I walk in to see a body laid out in front of the pews. an older woman sits towards the back, comforted by a nun.

"how'd they find him?" Prentiss asks the police chief as she leads us to the victim.

"night janitor." she nods to a man being questioned by cops in the corner.

"did he see anything?" I ask her.

"no, but he remembered a parishioner who was here earlier," we walk past the older woman. she stares at us expectantly as the chief talks. "so there could be a potential witness."

we stop at the body of a priest, his eyes covered and a blade lodged in his skull, unsurprisingly. Emily and I stare down at him, realizing the same thing.

"first public killing." she notes as she bends down to examine his wounds. "he's getting bolder."

"the presentation is just as important as the kill." I join her on the ground, snapping my gloves tighter on my hands and turning his head to the side to get a better look at the blade. semi-dried blood coats the tied fabric around his eyes.

"I'm gonna go talk to that woman." Emily leaves. the crime scene agent crouches down on the ground across from me, and I bite my lip before making a strange request.

"would you mind... sliding that thing out of his ear?"

the agent blinks at me in disbelief, probably not wanting to pry a knife out of someone's head, but nods and does so carefully. I squint down at the wound. then I realize something.

"Reid?" my voice carries across the room. Spencer is talking to an officer when he hears me and walks over.

"this doesn't look like a normal blade, but I don't know what it is." I point at the now half-buried weapon. it sits unpleasantly out, the blood catching warm light. Spencer gets down next to the crime scene agent and examines it more closely.

"this is flint." he says slowly, turning to me with a concerned expression.

"like the stone?"

"flint is the symbol for protection and retribution in Egyptian mythology. with hieroglyphics, they used to display dangerous animals like scorpions and snakes being cut with flint knives in order to render them powerless."

"oh." is all I can manage while I process what he's saying. Spencer waits for me to say something else, but instead I bend my head down to pull back the silk tie.

"there's no way that using flint is a coincidence." I reason. the blood is all on the inside of the tie as well, which gives me pause. Reid recognizes this a second later, his eyes lifting to mine. they look almost brown in the candlelight, flecks of gold sparkling in them while his mind whirs endlessly.

"I'm gonna call Garcia to see if any of the victims have been charged with a crime." he tells me.

"good idea." we both stand, the crime scene agent scurrying off to do something else. I head back over to Emily and hope that we're right about this. flint is too specific of a weapon for it not to be intentional, right?

...

we deliver the profile by the end of the work day, our unsub a serial vigilante with a personal edge to all of his killings. my body is slightly shaky from downing cups of coffee without any actual food, so the promise of eating out after we finish makes my stomach eager.

we go to a Chinese restaurant by the station and keep talking about the case, despite having promised ourselves not to do so. I sit between Prentiss and Reid while I dig into my dumplings. I like listening to them swap theories and past cases, how they weave together all their stories.

"you forgot to add something to the profile earlier today, Aaron." Rossi says as he piles more noodles onto his plate. our attention immediately focuses on the Italian.

"what did he forget?" Prentiss has a ghost of a smile on her face. I've noticed that she tends to speak like she's on the inside of a joke that other people don't understand. the intonation of her words feels like a secret.

"I didn't mention the possibility of our unsub being a cop." Hotch takes a sip of his ice water. there's a moment where we all reflect on this information before Morgan breaks the silence.

"I mean, they do know the system."

"they could easily take matters into their own hands, given what they see every day." Prentiss adds. I nod.

"when someone like our victim is killed, police refer to it as a public-service murder." Reid struggles to get the noodles onto his chopsticks, which I notice but don't say anything about. he tries again, the food slipping back onto his plate. Morgan notices this shortcoming of Spencer's and I see that he's about to start teasing him, so I change the subject.

"I saw a lot of rapists walk when I was in sex crimes," I put down my dumpling while I talk. Hotch watches me intently. I haven't spoken much about my previous job with anyone on the team, especially not him. in fact, he barely knows anything about me. "a lot of the victims didn't feel safe pressing charges, or the juries said they were asking for it. it's enough to make you wanna explode."

"it's a long way from feeling like that and actually committing a murder, though, don't you think?" Emily asks.

"not really." I turn my gaze back to my plate and start to feel nauseous. there's a clinking of plates and silverware as we continue in silence. Emily nudges my arm gently with hers and offers me a supportive smile.

I hear Spencer next to me, getting the attention of a passing waiter.

"excuse me," he says in a low tone. "can I get a fork, perhaps?"

Morgan snickers as the waiter takes off to get the utensil. at this point, there's a palpable tension as we wait to see who makes fun of Reid first. he drops his chopsticks into his bowl with a defeated clatter and Derek gently pushes his knuckles against Spencer's cheekbone.

"having some trouble, kid?" he asks. Spencer smacks his hand away.

"don't be mean." I giggle, reaching onto my wrist to grab a hair tie. "here, try this." I wrap the thing around the end of Spencer's chopsticks so that they're easier to use, handing them back to him.

Spencer tries again and it works-- if not somewhat clumsily. he gives me a little appreciative smile and I smile back before returning to my food, listening to the stories that Rossi doles out. he even pays for dinner despite our half-hearted protests.

the entertainment for the evening is pretty nice, but when I've stuffed myself with Chinese food, Emily leans over to me.

"do you wanna go to that museum you were talking about earlier?" she whispers. I peek at my phone to check the time.

"I doubt we'd have much time before they close, but yeah, definitely." excitement bubbles up in my stomach as I realize I might actually get to poke around for a while. Prentiss throws her napkin on the table abruptly.

"Clea and I are going to the Museum of Fine Arts. anyone wanna join?"

I look around to gauge some reactions.

"I'm interested." Morgan nods.

"I've already been several times." Rossi takes a sip of his drink as he politely declines. Hotch shakes his head.

"I have some paperwork I need to finish."

"again?" Prentiss complains.

"I'll go." Spencer sits up straighter as he looks at his brunette friend, folding his napkin neatly on his plate. my eyebrows raise a little, although I'm not surprised that he'd be interested in visiting any museum. we stand and get ready to go; Hotch warns us to be ready to go at seven in the morning tomorrow. a little weight is lifted off my chest as I realize that there will be some reprieve during this case, and then we're wandering out into the evening air.

we ate dinner sort of early, so the sky is still slightly aglow with a bruised shade, preparing to sink into its favorite darkness. after finding the route to the museum, we hop on the train.

Boston is lovely in the kind of way that aches of neat corners and airy lights. stores crammed with antiques and novelty products line the sidewalks, people wander about as they take in a pleasant night. somehow disjointed and cohesive all at once.

whatever bit of conversation we had on the way dissipates into breathlessness once we get inside the enormous entryway. it's cavernous, extravagant, gorgeous. we flip through brochures advertising different exhibits. Emily raves about Impressionism and decides that that must be our first stop, so we head off with the rest of the museum stragglers who have decided to feed themselves with art until they're forced to leave.

my head is constantly spinning to admire something else in the enormous white rooms. it's a bit overwhelming at some points, what with the gargantuan canvases that greet me at every turn. but it's impressive, too, and I find myself hungrily reading all the small plaques. I venture out of the Impressionism vein and into Korean art, my feet carrying me away from Morgan and Prentiss. Spencer broke off a while ago; to where, I have no idea.

I check out vases and pottery, sculptures, renderings of historical events. images from the crime scenes fill my head intrusively. there's no use in trying to shut them out; they've been in my dreams for a while now, the kind that wake me up in a cold sweat. I haven't told anyone about them— I'm sure others get them, too— and I don't want to seem like I can't handle it. every time I close my eyes, I begin to feel the pressure of a knife against my temple.

"a lot of these are from private collections."

the voice causes me to jump, my skin erupting in goosebumps as Spencer stands beside me. he holds his bag against his side and follows my line of sight to the 18th-century bookshelf screen.

"that's interesting." I reply. what else is there to say to that?

"really makes you think about what other art pieces won't ever be seen by the public." he turns and starts walking onto the next work, seemingly done with this conversation. my brow furrows while I watch him go, his posture miserable as a result of his skinny build. he's quite tall.

"what do you mean?" my voice comes out quiet, but it carries in the otherwise empty exhibit. Reid turns around and stops in his place, allows me to catch up briefly. we start to read another plaque by a silver basin.

"you could have a Cézanne just rotting in your attic and it would never be examined by the right scholars." he shrugs.

"I really doubt there's anything nearing that value in my attic." I laugh.

"you ever seen 'Antiques Roadshow'?" he asks non-sarcastically. I balk.

"sure."

"you never know." he's not a man of many words, apparently. I get his message regardless and we continue to walk, him setting out facts for me in neat rows, simple and easily taken in. he's definitely a know-it-all, but not in the way that makes me want to escape his presence. it's sort of comforting, having someone around who just understands everything. his absolute lack of social graces makes him easy to be around, too; I don't need to force conversation because he doesn't care.

we wind up in the mummy section, where the walls tingle with an energy that could only be described as magical.

"spooky." I nod to the domineering sarcophagus lid of Kheperra. a spotlight illuminates all of its intricacies and I make a beeline for it. Spencer trails behind me and we fall into silence as we peer at the exquisite details. it's intimidating, for sure, hulking and made of carved black stone. "you feel that?" I whisper to Spencer, who is enthralled in the image.

the way the spotlight spills over onto him is interesting; it emphasizes the shadow below his jaw and the delicate quality of his bone structure, his cheekbone prominent at the place where his ear meets his face. his lashes are long and lovely, his Adam's apple poking out of a slender throat. he turns to me with a curious expression.

"feel what?"

"the energy change," I smile. "from the ancient dead bodies."

"it's probably just the dark lighting and the media associations you have with mummies." but his eyes begin flitting about the room in a slightly panicked manner. I feel a smirk tug at my lips as I step closer to him.

"are you scared?"

"no," he scoffs and makes a face like I've made the world's most absurd accusation. "why would I be scared?"

"because we're all alone in here..." I use a lower tone to freak him out a little. "who's to stop them from coming out and... snatching us?" when my hand snakes around behind him to pinch his arm, he jumps.

"what the--" he catches sight of the devilish grin on my face. "don't do that!"

"sorry, Einstein." I laugh and turn in the other direction, him following me to the next piece. Spencer doesn't seem to have more thoughts to give on the exhibition, probably still a little creeped out. part of me begins to feel guilty for startling him, even though he constantly does that to me. his footfalls are weirdly soft.

I wonder what Spencer is like outside of work. what he does when he gets back to his apartment. how could someone like him entertain themselves? maybe he just reads books until his eyes glaze over. he definitely doesn't go out often, but maybe he has other nerdy friends. I hope he does. there's something in his eyes that's too viscous for me to grasp, something swimming and pocketed. I'd like to understand it, although that doesn't seem like a great idea to pursue. he barely gives his closest friends information about his life.

we end up at opposite ends of the room, him still examining an entombed husband and wife couple while I check out a canonic jar. the silence in this room is tangible. I wasn't lying when I felt an energy shift— it's like gold and clay and it smells like cracked cinnamon.

I'm trying to get a better look at the detailing when I feel a cold hand wrap around my forearm, easily encircling it. I jolt.

Spencer stands behind me with a playful smile, like he's quite pleased with himself.

"Reid!" I yank my arm away from his long fingers and see him let out that rare laugh. it's pleasant and fills the room with a warmer light as I rub my arm where his fingers held me. I'm surprised he was willing to touch me at all; it's pretty obvious that he's got a problem with germs, which is understandable.

"who's scared now?" he tries to defend himself with his palms when I reach out to gently smack his shoulder.

"you know, I was starting to feel bad for you." I laugh. he smiles brightly and keeps walking into the next room. I realize that the way we move is like two weighted ends of a string. he drifts out on his own, I follow, and vice versa.

I appreciate that he's beginning to loosen up around me, so much so that he smiles at a joke I make in the English Regency section. we walk quickly to absorb as much as we can before the museum closes, but we still don't get through all of it. Spencer isn't much of a conversationalist, and he doesn't really need to be. he listens to me talk, I listen to his erudite observations, smiling when he uses certain terms that sound like they're from someone much older.

by the time a curator tells us we have to go, we've completely lost Prentiss and Morgan and end up meeting back at the entrance. it's pitch black outside; Boston is still bustling, except my legs are tired and I'm ready to crash in bed. we have another packed day tomorrow.

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #dr. reid #criminal minds #mgg #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #friends to lovers #BAU #slow burn

[hovid19]

All-Nighter (Spencer Reid)

Just some Spencer Reid fluff based on the prompt: “Now, how could I forget you?”

This is my first imagine-type story on here so please go easy on me... :)

Word count: 1,137 words

It was never easy to fall asleep in your apartment. It was old and run-down and everything inside of it squeaked insistently. Usually it didn’t bother you much, having been used to the noise after living in the studio for a week. But over the past couple of days, it had been more challenging than ever to turn your brain off enough to get some shut-eye, leading to the sounds of the faulty A/C and near-broken ceiling fan to drive you crazy.

You tried everything– focusing on your breathing, reading a book, exercising to try and tire yourself out. Nothing was working, and it was getting harder and harder to go through a normal day without a raging headache due to your lack of sleep.

You were thinking of finding someone to bother, your cat not providing enough company after scratching you for disturbing him from his slumber. It was 4:52AM, and you were far from tired.

Maybe your best friend would be up. She always knew the perfect way to get you to fall asleep, or at least keep you busy enough to not go insane. But fifteen minutes later and with no reply, you decided on taking a walk to clear your head– and get the fuck out of that noisy apartment.

The air was chilly, the winds of September hitting you as you pushed open the door to the entrance of the apartment building. The ground was wet, a thunderstorm passing through just hours earlier. The air still smelled like rain.

There were a few cars that passed by every now and then, a handful of people getting a head start on the early morning, while you were stuck in a late night– though not by choice.

You glanced down at your phone. 5:04AM. Maybe your favorite coffee shop would be open. You had never been up early enough (or stayed up late enough) to have known.

You pulled the door open, instantly smelling the delicious odor of coffee grounds and melting at the aroma. There were a plethora of reasons this place was your favorite, and the scent of their freshly ground coffee was definitely one of them.

“Y/N? Is something wrong?” the owner, Liam, asked, peering over the top of one of the cappuccino machines.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Was something on your face? You peered down at your outfit, a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt. Neither was dirty. “No, I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

“I thought the world was ending when I saw you walking in at 5AM on a Saturday morning. You sure you’re okay?”

You rolled your eyes and let out a chuckle. “Ha, ha. Laugh it up, Liam.” Not like he was wrong. Early mornings were SO not your thing. “I’ll have you know everything is perfectly fine.”

He nodded sarcastically, a smile tugging at his lips. “Okay, hun. Whatever you say. Gimme five on the coffee.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t spend every last cent of your paycheck at Liam’s coffee shop. He had easily the best coffee in the city, and plus, he made it a point to get to know every customer that walked through the door. It was like having a hip forty-nine year old dad that also made the world’s best coffee.

The seat you sat down in was one you always took, a plush chair in the corner of the shop, next to the big bay window that looked out on the street. You crossed your arms over your chest, letting your eyes drift to the people and cars and bikes that passed the window. You still weren’t tired.

With a huff, you turned away from the scenery to look out at the shop. It wasn’t busy by any means, but it did have a good bit of people in it for only opening seven minutes ago. Your eyes got stuck on the figure sitting across from you two tables down.

You recognized him from a couple of other times you’d encountered him: twice at the park, four times at the bank and once at the very coffee shop you were sitting at. It was odd how many times you’d run into him in the short span of living here, but it’s not like you were complaining much. Having a face as pretty as his be a familiar one was not something you were gonna protest.

A hello was definitely planning on coming out of your mouth, but you could not for the life of you remember his name. You sat for a second, eyebrows scrunched and lip caught between your teeth. Steve? No, you’d remember if someone as young as him had a name that sounded old. Shawn? No, you would’ve remembered that too because you probably would’ve made a joke about him having the same name as Shawn Mendes. Seth? That seemed close– or at least better than the other options.

“Spencer!” Liam called, holding up a cup. The man stood, gathering his coffee before sitting back down.

“Spencer!” you parroted out loud, before widening your eyes and setting your hand over your mouth.

He looked at you confused, cocking his head a bit to the side. At least you knew his name now, and kind of sort of said hello.

You laughed, standing and sitting across from him. “Sorry, I was trying to remember your name because we’ve run into each other a couple of times and I wanted to say hi. I don’t know if you remember, I’m Y/N.”

He just smiled, taking a sip from his cup. “Now, how could I forget you?”

You smiled back, a small blush taking over your cheeks. You bit your lip again, hands tucked in between your legs. “I don’t know, I couldn’t even remember your name so I didn’t expect you to recall who I was.”

“I have an eidetic memory,” he explained. “And even if I didn’t, I don’t think I could ever forget someone as beautiful as you.”

Your cheeks felt hot and you couldn’t keep that stupid smile off of your face. “God, you’re cheesy, huh?”

He slipped a card across the table, standing and gathering his things. “I have to get to work, but please, don’t be afraid to call. My name’s on the card in case you forget,” he teased, smiling as he walked out of the shop.

You let out an incredulous laugh, staring at the door he just walked out of and shaking your head until Liam pulled you from your trance. “Jeez, I thought he’d never ask you out. Last time you were here he wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

You grabbed your coffee, thanking Liam and making your way back to your apartment. Maybe having a minor case of insomnia wasn’t necessarily all bad.

#spencer #reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #mgg #mgg imagine #mgg fluff #dr reid #doctor reid #fluff #imagine

[winfredkipling]

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[crowdvscritic]

round up // MAY 20

When the going gets rough, I find I keep coming back to two kinds of movies: Romantic comedies and action adventures. For whatever reason, those are my comfort food, even if I’m watching someone get their heart broken or fight for their lives.

Hopefully you’re finding small ways to make your days brighter with books, movies, music, and shows that either help you fight or forget some of the darkness around us for a time. These were a few that made my month brighter, including a number of rom coms and action flicks.

May Crowd-Pleasers

SNL at Home

I almost cried for joy when I learned SNL would finish out its season even though it wouldn’t be in Studio 8H—it felt like a glimmer of a lot of joys we’ve lost in the last few months. While the At Home episodes have an odd rhythm compared to the usual broadcast (that live audience makes a difference, especially during “Weekend Update”), I still laughed every week. A few highlights:

“Bailey at the Movies”

“Dreams”

“Grocery Store”

“MasterClass Quarantine Edition” + “Another MasterClass Qurantine Edition”

“RBG Workout”

Watch those skits, then enjoy an infographic-heavy review of the season from Vulture.

Extraction (2020)

Is this a groundbreaking action movie? Heck no, but watching Chris Hemsworth fight to save a kid with a supporting appearance from David Harbour made for a great Sunday evening. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 6/10

The Wedding Singer (1998)

Somehow I’ve never gotten around to this rom com, perhaps because Adam Sandler’s sense of humor usually isn’t my cup of tea. But here he replaces the gross out jokes with a sweet chemistry with Drew Barrymore. I liked it so much I gave 50 First Dates a shot, but, uh, I only recommend movies I finish. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 6.5/10

Baby Boom (1987)

Another not-innovative genre entry, but a satisfying one. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10

Action Movies set in 1700s America: The Last of the Mohicans (1992) + The Patriot (2000)

Sometimes I don’t want a complicated villain—sometimes I just want Jason Isaacs (aka Lucius Malfoy) to be so evil I want Mel Gibson to take him down with a tomahawk. The Last of the Mohicans: Crowd - 8/10 // Critic: 8.5/10 // The Patriot - Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

Taylor Swift City of Lover concert (2020)

I’ve seen Ms. Swift live twice and have loved the stadium tour spectacle. But an intimate show heavy on acoustic performance reminds me how well her songwriting holds up no matter the production

Prop Culture (2020)

I know, I know: Disney+ original series are well executed, long-form advertising. But can you find better-executed advertising than Jason Schwartzman chatting about the Mary Poppins snow globe at a piano with Richard Sherman, the character he played in Saving Mr. Banks? These staged treasure hunts for Disney movie props may be a bit self-important, but they’re also a dose of nostalgia and lessons about the technical side of filmmaking.

This Drake Bell TikTok

If you get this, you get this.

Silverado (1985)

My weird New Year’s resolution? To watch Westerns, a genre I’ve basically skipped until now. Silverado feels like a throwback to classic Westerns with a modern sensibility and more laughs. Plus, baby Kevin Costner and Jeff Goldblum in a fur coat! Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7.5/10

Chromatica by Lada Gaga (2020)

Turns out I’m not just a fan of the A Star Is Born/duets with Tony Bennet/Joanne Lady Gaga. I’ve always been cooler on her electronic-dance-club Top 40 hits than her recent guitar-and-vocal stylings, but I can’t stop listening to album-long jam sesh. It’s old Gaga meets 2020 beats meets Depeche Mode/Flock of Seagulls/Madonna/New Order of the ‘80s.

The Heat (2013)

Two of my favorite funny ladies teaming up was—not surprisingly—a win. No one delivers a kooky insult like Melissa McCarthy. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10

May Critic Picks

Hail, Caesar! (2016)

Josh Brolin, George Clooney, Ralph Fiennes, Scarlett Johansson, Tilda Swinton, Channing Tatum, and more try to keep Hollywood and their careers afloat despite a bizarre series of kidnappings, line flubs, and tap dances. Of course the Coen Brothers have a dry, wacky take on the Hollywood studio era. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9/10

Jane Eyre (2006)

Confession: I have not read Jane Eyre. But my mom did, and since she enjoyed the book so much, I figured a happy medium would be to watch this BBC miniseries with her commentary about what they changed from the Brontë classic.

Daisy Jones & the Six (2019)

The highest compliment I can give a book is staying up way too late to finish it, which is what I did with this buzzy Taylor Jenkins Reid book. It’s a barely-fictional oral history of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll in the ‘70s, and somehow it’s not crass or gratuitous about any of them. Most impressive is that Jenkins Reid keeps her characters well-defined even though it’s not written in a traditional novel format. My favorite parts of this story are the deep dive into the creative process and the exploration of how we remember the past. Here’s hoping the Sam Claflin/Riley Keough-led, Reese Witherspoon-produced, (500) Days of Summer team-written Amazon series can do this book justice—I need this soundtrack!

The Plot Thickens podcast (2020)

A Turner Classic Movies podcast hosted by Ben Mankiewicz about film history is a specific—and predictable—Venn diagram of my interests.

Alfred Hitchcock Double Feature: Psycho (1960) + The Birds (1963)

The story about Psycho goes that my grandmother ran out of the movie theatre screaming during the shower scene. Now that I’ve finally watched it, I know why. This horror drama is still terrifying today even if you know what’s going to happen. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 10/10

The story about The Birds goes that my mother was terrified as a little girl after walking into a room where it was on TV, and now she still won’t watch it. The Oscar-winning visual effects have aged so much I didn’t find it scary, but I was still sucked in by the eerie plot. That said, I did have a frightening dream last night involving Tippi Hedren, so it may be more effective than I realized. Give me just a sec while I schedule some Hitchcock-focused family therapy. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9/10

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)

Spend two hours with the two nicest bank robbers you’ll ever meet! A winsome Paul Newman and a laconic Robert Redford make their escape on the scenic trails of the Southwest, and gosh darn it, if they aren’t just a barrel of fun. I enjoyed this Western so much I recommended it in a piece I wrote for Round Trip, too. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9/10

Katharine Hepburn Double Feature: Alice Adams (1935) + Woman of the Year (1942)

Saying you love Katharine Hepburn is like saying you love sunshine and flowers—of course you do! In Alice Adams, she’s an optimistic Cinderella with a down-on-their-luck family who falls for a high class fella (Fred MacMurray). In Woman of the Year, she’s a high-brow journalist who falls for sports columnist Spencer Tracy in their first of nine films together. She earned Oscar nominations for both, but I dare you not to fall in love with her after watching just one. Alice Adams - Crowd: 7.5/10 // Critic: 8/10 // Woman of the Year - Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

Also in May…

When you’re not allowed to travel, you get creative! For Round Trip this month, I recommended 13 movies about travel that will make you feel like you took the vacation COVID-19 made you cancel (including Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid). And if that’s not enough, why don’t you recreate your trip? I turned my apartment into Paris, and here’s why you might want to do the same.

Kyla and I didn’t go far back in time for most of our Gilmore Girls pop culture references on SO IT’S A SHOW? We covered three movies (or two, depending on how you see it) from the 2000s with connections to this year’s Oscars, 8 Mile and then Kill Bill. We also looked into the famous architect Stanford White and a movie he was featured in, 1981’s Ragtime, which had more connections to today’s culture than we expected.

I made another attempt at Jim Jarmusch for ZekeFilm with Broken Flowers. I still don’t get Jim Jarmusch.

My movie count in quarantine is up to 156. You can see them all on Letterboxd.

Photo credits: SNL, Taylor Swift, TikTok, Lady Gaga, Daisy Jones & the Six, The Plot Thickens. All others IMDb.com.

#SNL at Home #The Wedding Singer #Baby Boom #The Patriot #The Last of the Mohicans #Taylor Swift #City of Lover #Prop Culture #Drake Bell #Totally Kyle #The Amanda Show #Silverado #Chromatica #Lady Gaga #Hail Caesar! #Jane Eyre #Daisy Jones & the Six #The Plot Thickens #TCM #Psycho #The Birds #Alfred Hitchcock #Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kids #Alice Adams #Woman of the Year #Katharine Hepburn #The Heat

[sam177007-blog]

You Don’t Believe Me

Entry 1- Five Days since the World Died.

You wouldn’t believe it Notebook; I’m now part of a group!

I was just minding my own business around town when the people started following me. Soon, they surrounded me! I didn’t want to kill them; though Justin did make a point to explain to me that they’re already dead.

No one knows what they are, what happened to them, but Justin calls them Fleshies and they were once just like us.

I told them, I don’t want to kill the people, but Thomas handed me a gun. He told me that I have no choice and that’s the only way I’ll survive. I don’t want to lay my hands on a gun ever again.

The Fleshies were all around me; I couldn’t push them away, I couldn’t run. I was done for. I closed my eyes and accepted my fate.

I heard gunfire.

I opened my eyes.

The Fleshies were following the sound! A man was standing a ways down the street, gun pointed at the sky, firing.

I watched in awe.

He put away his gun and grabbed the large knife from his belt. He proceeded to slice into all the Fleshies’ heads, watching them fall to the ground motionless.

After all the Fleshies fell dead, the man ran up to me and held out his hand.

“There won’t be much time until more come, come with me!” he commanded.

I took his hand and he immediately took off running with me in tow, trying hard to keep up with my short legs. He tugged me along for what felt like hours.

“COME ON!!” A yell rang out through the air.

Suddenly I was swept off my feet and plopped down on something metal. I looked around me; I was on the back of a pickup truck! Plus, to make matters better, there were two people in the front seats. The guys started yelling curse words through the glassless back window at the man who saved me, trying to figure out why I was there. I then introduced myself as Cameron, though you already know my name, Notebook. I then learned theirs! The man who saved me is Tony; he’s got one brown eye and the other is green. The guy with sideburns is Devin; he’s driving the truck. The other guy in the front seat was Justin; he’s got cool looking white hair! He looks like the youngest of them to me. They told me they have some other people in their group and that I’m a part of it now! I was really hoping that anyway, seeing as I have nowhere else to go.

I couldn’t help but giggle when they told me their group name: “The Power Rangers!”

The drive was long, so Tony started asking me questions about who I am. I told him about my mom and stepdad who left me behind, my brother who refused to wake up, and my dead dog named Sasha; I’m going to miss her.

I probably should mention to Tony the fact that I don’t have my medicine and if I don’t take it tonight, the voices will come back. It’s not that bad though, sometimes they’re nice and they help me; other times they can be real jerks. One of the voices even told me how to kill myself; they’re so mean!

The truck slowed to a stop in front of a department store.

“This is it,” commented Devin as he turned off the engine. We got off the truck and I was rushed inside. There were five other people that I then met: Thomas(the one with glasses and a clean-shaven face), Shauna(who has a zebra stripe sleeve tattoo going up her left arm), Riley(who I can’t tell if it’s a he or a she), Ben(who looks a few years younger than me), and Malynda(who’s probably in high school and has the prettiest red hair).

Tony then took the time to show me around. He showed me where they sleep, where they keep their supplies, where the bathrooms are, and other stuff. I was surprised to see the state the store was in; shelves broken off the walls, the floors were covered in wasted food as well as trash and random broken stuff. The place was ransacked and really sad to look at.

I tried again to tell Tony about my medicine, but he was called away to help with dinner before I could finish. Although after he left, I got to talk to Shauna! She was nice but seemed really on edge and almost seemed depressed. I asked why, but she avoided the question. I pushed on and she yelled that she’s tough, then got up and ran out of the room, leaving me to my lonesome, sitting on a cot in the corner of the sleeping quarters.

It’s dark outside now; no one has a watch and all the clocks stopped so no one knows the time. Tony told me earlier that since there is no more electricity, they can’t charge their phones; another time source gone.

At least I have you, Notebook. You’re kinda like a friend; except you can’t answer back. Oh well.

The others are coming to the cots, I guess it’s time for bed. Don’t run off anywhere while I’m dreaming, Notebook; like there’s any place you can go.

Goodnight!

Entry 2- Eight Days since the World Died

I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a few days Notebook! Things have been pretty busy lately. Yesterday, the Power Rangers went out on a supply run as they called it and they wanted me to stay here with Ben and Shauna watched us. She didn’t like the idea, she wanted to go with them, but I heard Devin tell her that because of her mental state, she shouldn’t. She cursed at Devin and stated something about the name Spencer.

“Shauna, I know how much your brother meant to you-” I heard Devin try to say.

Shauna cut him off and said that she’s gotten over it, but by the sob I could hear her holding back, I could tell that was a lie.

She fell asleep and Ben got sucked into some picture book, so I was left to my own devices. I decided to go outside!

And guess what Notebook? I made a friend outside! His name is Randall and he told me he’s about 23 years old. We’ve got lots in common! We both like art and singing and being outside. I wish I could introduce him to Shauna but… she wouldn’t like him. He’s a Fleshie, none of the Power Rangers would like him, but he’s nice! He told me that none of the others can hear him; he’s been trying to ask for help but everyone like me runs away!

He told me to stay a few feet away from him at all costs; he’ll try and grab me otherwise, try to hurt me, but he doesn’t want to, he just can’t control it! So I spent the whole time walking backward around a tree with Randall following me as we just talked!

I’m so glad I have a new friend Notebook! I haven’t told Shauna or Ben or anyone about him though. I don’t think they’re ready to hear what he has to say.

Entry 3- Ten Days since the World Died

I’ve met so many new friends Notebook! I have tons of them! There’s Rosy and Daniel and Sara and Isaiah! What sucks though is the fact that I can’t let any of the Power Rangers meet them because they’ll kill them. They are not just Fleshies, they were once normal people like us and they can talk! They tell me stories of how they were before all this happened. They had families, friends, normal lives!

Tony talks to us every day about plans for supply runs and taking out as many Fleshies as they can. I’ve tried to talk to him again, but he’s too busy, setting up the supplies and hearing what other people have to say. I’m not important, I guess.

They look at them as obstacles, enemies… They can’t hear them, can they?

Entry 4- Thirteen Days since the World Died

I need to talk to Tony. He’s getting everyone killing Fleshies! Thomas keeps trying to get me to hold a gun, attack one! anything that will hurt them! No! I can’t do that!

They think I’m crazy! Thomas forced the gun into my grip and I screamed!

Everyone crowded around to see what happened. I started screaming at everyone! I screamed that I could hear them, that they have feelings and don’t mean to hurt us!

They think I’m crazy. I can hear them, how can they not? Fleshies cry out in pain when they are hit and I can hear every single one! It pierces my eardrums; it hurts so much~ It gets louder and louder and louder!

I want to talk to Tony, Notebook; no, I need to! I need to explain to him everything; I hope he doesn’t think I’m crazy! What if he does?!

I’m sorry, Notebook, it’s just… I don’t understand. I can hear them, how can’t they? Why don’t they believe me?

Notebook… You believe me, right?

Entry 5- Fifteen Days since the World Died

I can’t stay here anymore, Notebook. I hear the group talking about me in secret. They talk about how crazy I am and are trying to figure out what they should do with me. Justin mentioned leaving me for dead, and Riley just said to shoot me or slit my throat in my sleep! They want me dead because I’m a danger to them!

I don’t understand. All I want is for them to see! I can hear them; I can hear their pleas for help! I can hear them scream!

Am I crazy, Notebook? Do you think I’m crazy too?

I can’t stay any longer, Notebook, I’m sorry. It’s the middle of the night and I haven’t been able to sleep because I’m terrified that one of them will try and kill me while my eyes are closed! Friends wouldn’t do that! Friends would accept you! That’s what the Fleshies do! They accept me!

I’m going to leave you behind; maybe they’ll find you and you can tell them everything that I’ve told you!

Maybe then they’ll understand.

Oh, who am I kidding? They’ll think it’s the ramblings of a mad girl.

I’m sorry I have to leave you, Notebook. It’s just at this point, you’re probably just like them.

You don’t believe me, do you?

#my writing #zombie #apocolypse #short story #journal

[pkmntrainergreyze]

The Emo School (Chapter 1)

Previous Next

Chapter 1: An Emo Box of Misery with Pastel Pink Ecstasy

I used to think anyone doing anything weird was weird. Now I know that it is the people that call others weird that are weird.

-Paul McCartney

09/12/01

Finishing up my plate, well, I couldn’t lie about a few scraps of mixed vegetables on it, the boys decided it’ll be fun to move out of the uncomfortable chairs. I couldn’t escape or not recoil from Ryan’s glares. I know what’s up with him, and the dirty look he’s giving is giving me the creeps. He makes me shiver down my spine and I swear one glare from this long legged man makes me want to stop everything I do- heck, if he was some soldier I’d be doing push-ups right now. (oh hallelujah he isn’t)

“Geez, I just couldn’t finish eating carrots right now Ryro. Is that so big of a problem?” He scoffed before lending me his hoodie. As weird as it sounds I need his dang cologne, it smells pretty darn good, but as much as possible I wouldn’t smell the hoodie in front of him and would rather wear it since it’s d*mn cold for me recently. He seemed to crunch the paper bag once he stared at the floor, as if some cockroach crawled nearby under the shade of the table.

Wait, is there?

“…Ryan, is there-”

“Yes, you spilt my milk in my f*cking man purse B-den”

Oh crap

“Congratulations”

He gave me the Tyrone tone of voice. The same blank yet forcefully enthusiastic voice you hear from the man that often wears a business outfit and a tie.

Where’s the escape Trainer button when you need it?

His face… I couldn’t see it under his brushed locks of hair. I’m not sure whether to look or not to look, either way it’ll probably just result to a really bad, salty ending. Sounds like something you see on Walmart eh? Bittersweet I guess? I am not so sure.

Oh F- the bell rang. It’s really torturous to hear it every single day of the week, especially the inescapable Mondays we have here at school, technically, everybody’s school.

Dallon grabbed his bag and left quickly, even faster than Spencer was when he ran over a advert pole drunk, remind to tell you that story sometime, just not today. Dallon’s a pretty straight guy, he’s like this dad who would be so overprotective of his children- or his students in the real world perspective, but when you think of the other side of that trait, he’s making fucking Dad jokes that my own Dad wouldn’t say. My Dad probably has a better sense of humor than Dallon- Dadlon, whatever.

And honestly speaking, he’s probably trying to avoid making any conversation with us, since we’re kind of talking sweet sweet cocaine.

Ahh yes, I’m about to walk back to the same tracks juniors walk to. I’ll probably receive about ten hearty smiles on my way there. Bet you ten bucks.

Alright, I finally forced my feet to walk and leave the table. Reaching for the end of the cafeteria…

Mrs Jackson smiled. One- wait, that doesn’t count as a junior? She looks nasty tho? Fine, stop judging my poor taste alright?

Passing by Ms Fletcher- okay, one. Her small smile is cleary not that visible. She’s the same child writing poems and speech-y crap for the principal to get quote on quote “extra credit” when in reality she’s serving weeks of detention, constant, but hey, she plays the best d*mn pranks in this school, okay, maybe third bestest.

I still played the “Place-posters-with-Pete’s-phone-number-with-the-tag-’call single males now!’” Prank

Walking around Spencer… Taking a glanc- two.

Oh, I forgot…. Whatever, Spencer looks like a kindergarten anyways so either way no points for me.

Spencer waltzed back to 9AM1 aww.

With how much students doesn’t rush to class after the bell rings, it wouldn’t let me reach that sweet sweet bar of full-on-smiles. Fine, future students, I owe you all ten bucks… only if you’re admit to our holy sacred school though.

Ha! I sound like Principal Wentz.

Profit-oriented mindset over one hundred babe.

I just entered the horrifying classroom of 8AM3. Welcome back to the real world my friends. As soon as I pretty much had my presence in the room students came to class. I heard a lot of talk ‘bout me being the coolest, chillest, most laid-back teacher here in the Junior buildings so I guess I have no competition or complaints.

I can already see the small group of students which I have known to be quite shy. They have my music class after Patrick’s theory crap that I don’t really pay that much attention to.

Mr Flowers just nodded along the conversation he’s having while Mr Bowie kept talking about this junior that idolizes him despite walking down outside the halls of my class. They sure have forgotten that I’m not closing the Godd*mn door before the class have their attendance.

My habitual scoff just came by so casually that students think of it as some form of comic relief. I don’t really know how to explain to these lil demons that it’s an attitude problem.

To think that Patrick’s just on my class, 8AM3, right now, teaching them how Do and Re sounds good together makes me feel better on how I’m actually giving the world- 9AM1 rather, a favor for consuming their time studying with my existence. That’s a joke, Patrick’s probably having fun right now.

Well, it looks like it’s about time.

I looked out the window in the similar fashion the students did as well.

Tick tock tick tock.

“What time is it?” Oh god, that voice crack though. I can hear the punks in this class snickering at it.

“Just struck nine” There goes my sunshine haired buddy cham pal.

“Is the cat at home?”

“He’s about to dine”

It’s Josh, this happened yesterday as well, and the day before. He’s teaching that “cat and mouse” game with the students; this time it’s 8AM2, not 8AM1.

Did I already explained to you why I call classes by numbers?

Well, because the real names sucks. No kidding, it’s so overused.

Who would name their classroom “Grade Eight Morning Glory?”, seriously? I want my class to be “Grade Eight Mary Jane”

Has that kind of ring to it, amiright?

Up until now I wonder why on earth Patrick and Frank likes their class names. I mean- those names are decades old. “Grade Ten Patience” seems plain, don’t tell Frank that.

“Sir do we have an assessment today?” Molly asked from the back with her hand stretched higher than Tyler’s current mood. I nodded as they all groaned. Laughing out of- well, sadism I guess? I had the projector connected to the PC and had it on freeze.

There the students saw my desktop wallpaper of a class picture me and the 8AM3 informally had, plus Patrick, Dallon and Spencer. Spencer truthfully looked out of place in this picture, it looks like he had a date with Aubrey Hepburn. Meanwhile Dallon stood there like he’s telling everyone his birthday is today- but he doesn’t have to lie that it’s on May 4th and that he just turned seven. Patrick’s just there, signature fedora on and a small peace sign.

Let’s not forget my entire class though. We have Frank Gioia and Eva in the front with Frank’s hands on her waist as her eyeliner-ed eyes shone against the color black. The Fro power and his friend glasses just stood there with awkward check poses that seems to go back somewhere deep and hidden in the past. Melanie and Ashley just stood there with no expression, except for the other student beside them, which is Jon, who’s doing the same peace sign Patrick’s been keeping up. The rest is can be explained stereotypical-ly; the emo, the shy artist, the jock, it’s just a fun variety to look at.

“Is that cous’?” I saw him pointing at the one with a black hoodie from the corner of my eye.

“Yep, that’s definitely your cousin Adam”

“They all look happy as heck”

“Sir can we take this sort of picture later?”

Another batch of noise.

Anyways, before my brain shuts down to “teaching mode” looks like I have to get back to this thinking normally crap later. Honestly the author just got no idea how American schools work so let her skip this part dotdootdoot. (let’s just say rep-emo isn’t an American Author (badum tsk))

●———————–●

Finally; the end of the day. Organizing my stuff after drinking my cold caffeine that was left in the canteen at break, I finally had my temporary freedom I shall redeem before my world domination.

Speaking about possible world domination if either me or Patrick does it we’ll both have things planned out but procrastinate later on.

Blowing my students a playful kiss when the bell rang I waltz to the exit first, even so I can still hear their laughs and joyful cheers.

Then I saw something- rather, someone I wish I could just avoid for the week.

Christian Tyler Joseph

My feet practically swooshed and I’m pretty sure my sole—and also my soul—said “nope, not today”. I swear, I’m an atheist but I prayed at that very moment. You know that tense feeling those cliché video game main character does when he or she feels the villain’s presence or just something freaky in the ceiling happens? If you’re thinking you are imaging those overused gulp noises that’s actually real, very real.

Yeah, feeling it.

“Oy! Brendo-”

“I’ll pay my debt later Troye!” Thank God I cut him off before he diss me in front of the students.

“For the last time Fivehead it’s Tyler!”

I know. Dude, we’ve been working together for years now and yet you seem dense about it, maybe that’s just because I always act stupid, don’t let that fool you, I am stupid.

Honestly, that poor guy is so easy to tease. If it wasn’t for my distracting use of ’T’-names I would have had a small—small as Tyler could get—fight. I heard a huff from behind my back that obviously came from Tyler himself, yes, I’m stubborn.

●———————–●

A sigh sadly escaped my lips as I flipped to peak into my students’ Assessment grades.

From Ashbridge to Zoroa; all were sorts of disappointment. Even those who got perfect seems fake to me. If Ryan didn’t left me to go somewhere with Spencer he would have said the grades are as fake as diamonds that looks like broken glass.

I’m so unhappy right now. Never thought I’d use that word.

That all changed when I heard the door slid and also a student did the same but in a more humane manner.

          Enter Ashley the student.

She’s that special student who’s quite popular, inside and outside school grounds. She’s literally a celebrity. She seems to get away each time she dyes her hair unlike another student of mine that goes by the name “crybaby”.

Guess who’s her advisor?

Yeah, that’s obviously me, anyone who said “Dallon” deserves a spank… or a slap, that’s just kinky.

“Hey there Mister Urie”

“Hello to you too Ashley, what’s up?”

Unlike other schools, we’re all practically informal here; teachers and students are pretty much close buds that we don’t even have some guidance counselor, I don’t know if that is a flaw or not… I guess Meagan is a counselor, but that’s just Pete’s wife. Going back to Ashley she’s the only girl in my class—well aside from Melanie—that calls me Mister Urie all the time, but that’s probably due to respect, which is quite neat unlike some students.

“I have milk and cookies here, Melanie wanted to give this out and um… She also asked me to give you this note…”

Yeah, that’s Melanie, no one exactly trusts her, except for Tyler and Hal- I mean Ashley I guess.

“Cool, just place it one of the chairs thanks”

She nodded- before I rudely interrupted when the thought rushed back deep inside my skull.

“Wait, what’s written?”

“Umm… It says; Do you like my cookies? They’re made just for you, a little bit of sugar and… lots of poison too” She seems to hesitate on reading it and I have no doubts on why she is.

Honestly, this is one of those times I wish I could pacify her.

I couldn’t blame her actions, she’s been through a lot- like, a whole looot, as edgy as the book written by Pete when he was young (we fortunately got to read it in his office, don’t tell anyone) she has been kidnapped, rough family, drugged and other things I wouldn’t go deeper.

She’s pretty odd, but really a pretty nice person at the same time. It’s like the half dyes of her hair. She, Frank, Eva, Jon, Mikey, Ray and Richie would talk to me all day and I feel comfortable with them.

I honestly like crazy people like her. She doesn’t mind me doing crappy things and she empathize with me, it’s nice to have someone like that ya know?

Hallelujah, I have such great students and yet I’m a sh*tty teacher. I wonder what type of cookies are in there-

F*ck, that pink pastel box looks creepy as Teletub-

I need some breather.

“Hey Ashley can you pass me the coc-”

Oh wait f*ck

She doesn’t know that yet

Oh god that sounds wrong. No I’m not gay shut up… What are you talking about me and Ryan are just friends. No, not even Dallon, shut up. Denial what the- okay I’m done talking to y'all, I’ll tell you about my past with Ryan later, m'kay? Yes I’ll talk about Dallon later too but now you f*cks are just distracting me.

Anyways, she doesn’t know I do cocaine.

“Uhh… what?”

Sh*t, you guys make me sound so bad. Thinking about it, I am the only one to blame if she did knew.

Think Brendon! Think!

WHY AM I IMAGINING SCENES FROM HANGOVER RIGHT NOW?! IT’S STILL 2001.

“Pass me the…. baby powder from the back of the second row shelf thanks”

“Okay… what does it look like there’s a bunch of jars here Mister Urie!” Yelling a bit for me to hear, I felt a drop of sweat coming from my distracting forehead.

“Uhh…. It’s in one of those straight shoote- I mean flower designs in it”

She raised a small glass tube with some flower designs in it. She raised her eyebrow a bit like it’s already questioning me.

I mean, why would someone smoldering with appeal like me would buy flowers? I had enough with people questioning my sexuality so I’m not having that again.

“This one?” She held the love roses tube and shook it. I hope she didn’t suspect me for anything if so then I hope that I ain’t kissing Pete’s *ss for this. Thank past me for buying filtered one and not the transparent, but that’s too early for me to say so.

“Yeah, bring it here. Thanks” She threw it to me and I caught it, fortunately.

“Why would you have it in a flower case?”

Haha…

“I have no containers left, is all”

She nodded once more “I’m pretty sure Principal Wentz would allow ya to use one of the containers in the science room, I mean you’re close to Mister Iero as well right?”

Haha… riiight. I’m pretty sure Mister Wentz or Iero wouldn’t

“Yeah, thanks for the idea and the cookies, tell Melanie the same”

“Yeah, you’re welcome Mister Urie”

●———————–●

“BRENDON!”

That’s Dallon, once more in all his glory. He never seems to stay calm after his week of teaching in this school. His hair looks like his wife quiffed it- whatever people call that hairstyle, maybe I should say hair mess.

“What?” As you can tell, I’m tired as well so long and goodnight Dal, I need some shut eye. This is the same man who almost fell asleep while teaching the opium war, quite surprising that he can be this tense.

“YOU CAN’T DO DRUGS IF THEY CAUGHT YOU YOU’RE IN BIG TROUBLE-”

“SHH!”

Yeah! I would be if you continued yelling.

“Shut up Dallon” I closed the door behind me only to here Dallon handling the doorknob back open.

“Brendon, it’s not healthy”

What is he gonna say? Cardiac arrest? Lung problems? Yeah, I know the side effect don’t worry about it, stimulation has always been a part of me even though I try so hard to deny it. I try to stop each time though so I don’t have to hear this right now.

(Author just searched the side effects of cocaine so this may not be exact, author is not a doctor, author’s life sucks)

“Uhuh”

“No I’m serious! My friend used to do drugs as well and he-”

Oh no. I’m having this talk again am I?

Rolling my eyes back to a distant land called “Nopeland”. I could only hear incoherent sounds of a failed attempt to get me to change my decisions in life. I only found the polychromatic color that matches the walls once more when my eyes landed back to my table.

Smirk.

Grab.

Flick.

“W-cou-hat the h-heck Brendon that’s childish eew is that baby powder or powdered milk? Disgusting”

Nah, that’s coke, have fun cleaning your uniform for tomorrow morning kiddo.

And then- with just one swish and flick- I magically landed back to happy land. Maybe it’s the side effect of cocaine, may or may not be but whatever, I’d like to think that it is for the moment. It’s nice to see someone’s first encounter with coke, if I were to be Van Gogh I’d be painting this view of Dadlon trying to remove the white stains from his crotch right now.

Looks like I have something to write on my Journal huh?

Let’s be real though dear hopefully-future-students; my dairy is a lot more cooler than the Diary Of A Wimpy kid? No? Yeah you’re right, my life sucks. If this were a subject you all would have had all my assessments perfect even on your first day.

I don’t know whether you should take that as a compliment or that states you’re slowly becoming trash- well no, technically all you little eyes are my treasure so don’t go living in the dumps.

“Brendon please help me remove this stuff”

“No thanks”

“Beeeebooo”

“Not this again Dallon”

This is some sick technique in which Dallon uses the nickname “Beebo” to get me to do something. No, I’m not telling you “why Beebo?”.

Fine.

It all started when me and Patrick were teaching the seniors for a bit since Andy couldn’t come due to a winter storm at his place. We were at Patrick’s small enthusiastic explanation about a simple concept when someone boldly called me “Beebo” and it just stucked.

Groaning in the same manner the students of 9AM1 from earlier, I grabbed my handerchief and started rubbing the surface of his sweater that he probably bought last week.

“I hate you”

“Love you too Beebs, now continue helping me will you?”

Geez, I do have a lot to write down today.

Oh crap, he didn’t bought this last week; it says “Grade 10 Hibiscus” so it’s most probably hand made for him from his last advisory class. He got this last Christmas. Crap, I ruined his greatest gift. I am so sorry Dallon. Best not to tell this and the Ashley incident to anyone.

●———————–●

My eyes wondered about when I saw the box Ashley left in the corner.

That pink box…

I swear, I don’t have any idea on what to do with these cookies, they actually smell and look delicious. I guess I’ll never know huh?

“Hey Mister Urie is Richie’s detention over? He asked me to go shopping in Hot Topic today that’s why I’m asking” The next person to ever slide in after class today is Frank Gioia. The emotional kid who doesn’t seem to mind what everyone thinks, he’s a cool dude I swear.

“Oh, he’d be up by no-”

About the box….

As bright as the ideas Gerard drew in his sketchpad (which is full of strange looking people by the way, especially that all white violin girl), my eyes fluttered at the sudden thought that occured.

“Hey Frank?”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head to peak in a bit more. He doesn’t seem to be fazed at the fact I avoided answering his question.

“Want some cookies?”

Silence.

He stared at me for a bit, then back to the box I was supposedly reaching out for him to taste. His eyebrow raised at the sight of it.

“Isn’t that Melanie’s?”

Oh, he knew, that was some fail.

Lie or not to lie?

Nah, lying is pretty much fun if you’re a girl.

“Yeah, Melanie gave it to me earlier”

“Yeah saw it too”

Then another batch of awkward silence followed as we stared at each other, eyes locked with such confusion present on both sides.

“Sure… I’ll take one”

He came closer and took a bite of the chocolate chipped cookies from the forsaken box. He seems delighted somehow.

Well.

Looks like I have a new box to place my ecstasy.

●———————–●

I bumped into Ryan earlier.

He gave me this blank look before leaving me in the halls. He seemed to be carrying another paper bag; two packs of cheese whiz I presume. He didn’t seem to mind me whenever I snoop into his bags, although this time was an exception.

       ⏭️The theater in Brendon’s mind⏮️

Ryan: *looking at his paper bag*

Fab Brendon: What’s that *about to reach into the bag*

Ryan: *Slaps hand*

Ryan: Y o u  a r e  n o t  m y  f r i e n d

Exit Ryan.

⏯️

Trust me, give him a few more days and the two of us we’ll be okay, he wouldn’t exchange our friendship over cheese whiz….

I wonder if he thinks the same about me and Frank Sinatra, if so tell him I’d choose the latter.

●———————–●

On my way home I saw Ray and Mikey talking about Gerard and his small sketchpad they saw behind the bush in which he probably left it.

“How did it end up there in the first place?” They looked as confused as I am, Ray just raised his lips a bit higher to look like he’s pensive for an answer.

“He’s Mister Way after all, he can get like this, right Moikey?”

“Mikey Ray, It’s Mikey. Yes, he does act as irresponsible at times”

Sometimes I wonder if that face shows sadness, disappointment, anger or just plain nothing. It’s a pokerface no one could ever break, not even that time Joe played around with Frank’s chemistry set, I mean, mixing Mountain Dew and chunks of Doritos was funny and all, and Gerard’s reporting skills on that scene made the class laugh even more.

I sure do love this school’s innocent scenes.

Wait I’m going too far, back to Mikey.

“Anyways, do you know where your brother is at the moment?”

He shook his head in reply but Ray nodded it with excitement.

“Yeah he said he’s going to binge watch Star Wars in the cinema”

Mikey’s face dropped a bit before going back to normal. That action probably meant sadness… right?

“He forgot to drive me back home, whatever I’ll just walk”

“I’ll come with you don’t worry, we’re practically neighbors”

“no we’re not”

“shush”

I know that I laughed at that small conversation but I still feel the small strange vibe Mikey’s been radiating, unlike Gerard he would have punched me in the face if he was at the scene and tell me to “stay the *beep* away from my sketchpad!”

Was that beep necessary?

“Do you want me to call Gerard?”

“No, it’s okay Mister Urie”

I shrugged as he denied my random act of kindness, ouch.

“Whatever kiddos, get home safely okay?” “Yes Mister Urie” “Oh, and bring your brother’s sketchpad, he doesn’t want it in my hands”

Mikey raised an eyebrow “Don’t you wanna see what’s inside?”

I mean, it could be anything edge-shock-y so I wouldn’t dare open it.

“N-nah, rather not”

Mikey just nodded and fetched for the sketchpad in my hands.

Then I walked back home, just like they did.

God, I’m stopping drugs. Things like this are more stimulating…. and stressful

#brendon urie #my chemical romance imagine #mcr #my chemical romance #gerard way imagines #gerard way #mikey way #ray toro #frank iero #twenty one pilots imagine #tyler joseph #josh dun #panic! at the disco #twenty one pilots #brendon urie imagine #dallon weekes #ryan ross #spencer smith #jon walker #melanie martinez #fall out boy #patrick stump imagine #patrick stump #pete wentz #andy hurley #joe trohman #crankthatfrank #frank gioia #jessiepaege #the emo school

[sciencespies]

'Wild West Of Wheeled Transportation': E-Scooter Injuries Increasing Without Regulation

https://sciencespies.com/news/wild-west-of-wheeled-transportation-e-scooter-injuries-increasing-without-regulation/

'Wild West Of Wheeled Transportation': E-Scooter Injuries Increasing Without Regulation

It’s common to see lines of scooters downtown, such as these in Houston.

Tara Haelle

When Luna E., a 21-year-old in Tacoma, Washington, realized she would have to wait 30 minutes for her bus to work, the Lime electric scooter laying nearby suddenly looked inviting. She’d used one before, so she hopped on and rode about 20 blocks along the sidewalk at an easygoing 10-15 mph.

When she saw pedestrians ahead, she moved toward the bike lane in the street. But the small bump she hit on the way sent her flying headfirst over the handlebars onto a gravelly sidewalk.

“I stood up immediately, and the first thing I remember is smelling and tasting a lot of blood,” Luna said. She called 911 and was soon telling the story to the fire department and paramedics, who recommended she got to the emergency department. The CT scan at the ER revealed no problems, but the staff did have to pull a small rock out of her forehead, and she has lasting scars on her forehead and knee.

“I haven’t ridden an e-scooter since, and I’ve asked my partner to stay away from them as well,” she said. “One of the worst fights we’ve ever gotten into was when I found out he rode one home from work.”

Luna’s story was one of nearly a dozen I heard when I reached out in my social network to ask who had experienced accidents on e-scooters. I expected to hear one or two. I didn’t expect the flood of cringe-inducing injury descriptions and near misses I received almost immediately. The ER staff told Luna she was the third e-scooter accident they’d seen that week, and emerging research about the new form of transportation bears that out.

Though she had no findings on a CT scan, Luna did need a rock removed from her forehead, and she still has scars.

Photo courtesy of Luna E.

The latest study looking at e-scooter injuries, published in BMJ’s Trauma Surgery & Acute Care Open this week, identified several trends associated with these injuries: alcohol and drug use was common, and very few patients wore helmets, as prominent instructions on the e-scooters recommend. But it’s clear from barrage of anecdotes I heard in that post — even acknowledging selection bias and the fact that anecdotes aren’t peer-reviewed evidence — that the public health danger e-scooters pose is substantial even without substance use.

“The almost overnight introduction of eScooters to major urban areas around the USA has already begun to have effects on transportation patterns and legislation,” wrote lead author Leslie M. Kobayashi, of the University of California San Diego Health System’s Department of Surgery, and her colleagues. (San Diego was, incidentally, the first place I rode e-scooters and observed a disturbing number of intoxicated folks on them in the Gaslight District.)

“Not all new transportation technologies rise to the level of public health concerns,” they continued. “eScooters, however, have been adopted at an unprecedented rate.” They note that 3.6% of US adults had ridden one within a year of their introduction in 2017.

Their study tracked all patients admitted to their facility from the start of September 2017 through the end of October 2018. Unsurprisingly, given the fast adoption of e-scooters, admissions increased each month. Among 103 patients, 42% had broken limbs and 26% had fractures in their face. Another 18% had internal bleeding in the brain.

And those are just the folks who went to the hospital. Only two of the horror stories I heard involved people going to the hospital, which suggests the actual scale of injuries caused by e-scooters isn’t yet understood or appreciated.

Of the 103 patients admitted, 98% hadn’t been wearing a helmet, and more than half (65%) were young men, primarily in their 30s. Most notably, more than a third (38%) had a blood alcohol level above 80 mg/dL, and 31% had positive urine tests for drug use.

Alcohol figured prominently in the stories I heard, but it was usually bystanders at the most risk. Andrea Luttrell, a Dallas-based fundraiser, had been walking to a live podcast taping in downtown Austin when she and her cousin heard a ruckus behind them.

“It was a bunch of clearly drunk dudes, early 20s, getting onto those green scooters. I could tell they were drunk because they were loud and clumsy and had trouble getting on. They kept sort of losing balance,” she said. “Then as we were walking on the sidewalk, I heard ‘On your left!’ and this guy whizzed past us, barely missing us and wobbling on his scooter. If memory serves, he plowed straight through the stoplight and was lucky no car was coming to hit him.”

Though this was a near-miss for Luttrell, Sam Rathbone in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia, has been hit by e-scooters too many times to count. She works nights in the nightclub district and is frequently been hit in the ankles when someone loses control of their scooter and the back of it swings around.

“These aren’t light impacts. They hurt for days after,” she said, and they cause significant problems for her existing joint difficulties. One hit drew blood through her fleece-lined stockings and left her ankle swollen for a week, requiring her to use crutches.

“Every weekend we see people who are far too intoxicated operating these scooters,” Rathbone said. “They’ll try and double up on them, swerve in and out of traffic and hit pedestrians.”

But, like others who shared their stories, she recognizes their value too. Her husband uses them to run errands, and she has no complaints about them when used properly. “But alcohol and scooters don’t mix,” she said.

Neither does marijuana use, the researchers found, since THC use increased the risk almost ten-fold of needing surgery for injuries from an e-scooter accident. A third of all the admitted patients needed some kind of surgery, most often for fractures.

Among the injuries the researchers described were two lacerations of the spleen, a serious kidney injury and one cervical spine injury. These, plus 17 patients with concussions and 19 patients with internal head hemorrhaging, occurred just over 100 patients.

Admittedly, a good chunk of injuries come from inappropriate use of the e-scooters. Jennifer Varchmin of St. Paul acknowledges that she and her husband should not have shared a scooter when heading home from a soccer game. They had planned to share it only for a few blocks until they could find another, but when they hit a bump, her husband lost control and the scooter flew into the grass and toward the street. Both of them were thrown from the scooter, and Varchmin, breaking her husband’s fall, caught the worst of it, with her face and foot hitting the pavement.

“After hitting my $7000 out-of-pocket max and heading into a second surgery in October, my two-minute scooter ride became the most expensive two dollars I ever spent,” Varchmin said. “I will have spent at least six months recovering from my stupid decision to ride the damn scooter.”

But many folks use them properly and still end up with injuries because the scooter malfunctions, they aren’t seen by vehicles or pedestrians, or the scooter is sensitive to uneven riding surfaces. Jamie Carter Park, of Ogden, Utah, had to go pick up her teenaged son after he took one to get a Slurpee for his sick sibling and ended up flying over the handlebars when the batteries unexpectedly cut out. Fortunately, he was wearing a helmet, but his face and hands were badly bruised, she said.

Another friend’s daughter fell off a Lime scooter when the brakes failed. These incidents suggest not only the danger of malfunctioning e-scooters causing accidents but also the inability of e-scooter companies to prevent underage riders or enforce helmet recommendations. Most e-scooter companies require the rider to be over age 18 and have a valid driver’s license, but they have no way to enforce this requirement, and local law enforcement is inconsistent.

“Every city and place has different rules, so it’s sort of the Wild West of wheeled transportation,” said photojournalist Spencer Selvidge, a colleague of mine in Austin, who spent one day riding them off and on in San Antonio and swore never to do it again.

“Pedestrians react differently to them than bicycles for some reason, and cars are less likely to see you,” he said. “They accelerate too fast and stop too slowly, and the handle bars are often not wide enough to really maintain control. Some brakes were new and jerk-stop, and some were painfully, dangerously even, non-reactive.”

Ariel ended up with severe bruising on her legs when she unsuccessfully tried to brake on an e-scooter for a yellow light.

Photo courtesy of Ariel L.

It was difficulty braking that left Ariel L., with severely bruised legs in Los Angeles when she and her husband were using them to visit a few stores before heading to the airport.

“I’ve used so many so I had a false sense of security and comfort that I knew what I was doing,” she said. She’s used Lime, Lyft, Bird and Razor e-scooters, but not all brake in the same way. She was cruising along when a light turned yellow and she needed to quickly stop. But when she put her foot back to brake, nothing happened.

“I waited until I slowed down a bit and hopped off while running, but it was still too fast and I fell,” she said. “I absolutely love those scooters but agree there needs to be some sort of regulation.”

But she’s not sure what type of regulation should exist. Part of their value is their spontaneity, she said, and they’re ideal in big cities with inadequate public transit.

“They’re great for connecting dots on your map, especially when you don’t have specific destinations, in really congested areas,” Ariel said. “They fill a really great gap because they’re great for those distances that are just a bit too far to walk,” and they may reduce cars on the road.

But it’s unclear how the scooters are maintained—especially their battery power and brakes—and the spontaneity they enable makes it less likely people will wear helmets.

“It is likely that the low rates of helmet use are related, in part, to the lack of legislation requiring helmet use with these devices,” Kobayashi and her colleagues wrote. But it’s clear the injuries they reported won’t decline on their own.

“As the popularity of alternate modes of transportation continues to rise, eScooter-related injuries are likely to increase as well,” they wrote. “Early research into the safety and injury patterns of eScooters is vital to guide the public and legislators on injury prevention strategies for this evolving mode of transportation.”

#News

#News

[pongpalace]

Changing the Third Wheel

My piece for The Women of Check, Please! Zine. Huge thanks to @omgcpwomen for getting all these amazing pieces together and to @immarcesibility for the kick-ass beta <3 

Read on ao3

April is nervous.

She’s nervous and it’s making her awkward and being aware of it isn’t helping. She tries not to fiddle, tries to pay attention to the story, but she can’t help her hands as they drift across the table to pick at the label on her shitty American beer bottle. She stops, pulling her hands back when she notices the table’s gone quiet.

She looks up at March.

“Sorry,” April mumbles, fighting the urge to bite her nails. She picks at the skin around her thumb instead.

“This is awkward, isn’t it?” March sighs, draining what’s left of her beer. She taps a random beat against the bottle.

“No-” April protests, but shuts up with a look from March.

It’s their first Thursday night off since their post season ended abruptly in the semis and they’re 20-minutes off campus at a bar not many students make the walk to. The fifth set loss is raw enough without the constant reminder that other athletic seasons are still going on on campus.

They just missed the dinner rush so got their pick of tables. March had led April to a two-person table tucked away near the stairs. It was an intimate table, perfect for a first date, if one ignores the beeping VLC machines in the corner and the loud group near the stage. The sign outside promised live music, but the band’s still setting up their gear and the overhead speakers are more static than music.

Looking at the mess she’s made of her cuticle, April vaguely wonders if she and March will still be here by the time the band starts, or if they’ll have left and written this whole date off as a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” April repeats, wishing she could just relax.

She’s on a date, so what? She’s been on dates before. Some were more successful than others sure, but April knows the general rules of how to act on a date: be polite, don’t insult their mother or sport of choice, unless you want to sit through a presentation and accompanying lecture. It’s easy. Who cares if this date is with March? If anything, that should make it easier; they’ve known each other for 4 years so they should be able to bypass the awkward small talk part of the night trying to figure out if it’s worth ordering another drink.

Except it’s March sitting across from April, looking absolutely incredible in a way April’s never been able to appreciate before, and small talk is like 80% of April’s first date strategy so her whole groove has been thrown off. Their first date should be special, not a repeat of previous conversations.

But April is nervous and she can’t think of anything to say and March is starting to notice and it’s awkward. They’re getting third-wheeled by years of friendship. Apparently Ransom and Holster leave that part out when they talk about their own first date.

March leans forward, elbows settling on the table. It pushes her chest out and April would have to be blind to not see what the shirt does for her. She follows the chain of March’s necklace down before she catches herself out of long ingrained habit.

March is smirking when April looks up.

“Shuddup,” April says, reaching for her beer with warm cheeks. “We’re on a date.” She takes a slow sip, feeling March’s eyes on her the whole time.

“Is it okay though?” March asks as April puts the bottle down. “The date, I mean. It’s okay?”

April goes for her beer again, not sure if she’s going to tear the label off completely or down the whole drink instead of answering, but March intercepts. They’re holding hands and April’s stomach swoops. She’s pretty sure it’s in a good way. She swallows thickly, mouth suddenly very dry.

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s okay.”

March smiles, her cheeks dimpling, and it’s a smile that April hasn’t seen before. Which is good; it makes her want to press a kiss there. April couldn't have done that before asking March out under the bleachers after their game, when the reality of graduating finally hit.

“Do you want another drink?” April nods at March’s empty bottle instead of leaning across the table to kiss March.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“We’re on a date, March.” April’s proud of how smoothly the statement comes out. “Let me buy you a drink.”

March studies April for a beat and then grins, dimples back in full force. She squeezes April’s hand and answers, “Another beer, please.”

April squeezes back, pushing her chair back from the table. She goes to the bar and orders two of whatever’s on tap.

While April is waiting, the band starts their soundcheck. The group by the stage calls out songs, laughing loudly when the band ignores their increasingly outrageous requests. Based on their jeans and steel toes, April’s reasonably sure that they’ve just gotten off a shift, and are looking to unwind with beer and live music. She watches the group quiet down a little as another pitcher is brought to their table.

April accidently catches the eye of the only woman in the group as she’s pouring herself a drink. The woman smiles and lifts the glass in a cross-bar toast. April nods back, turning to find that her beers are poured.

“Thanks.” She pays, takes the glasses, and starts back to the table, stumbling slightly when she sees that March isn’t alone.

Standing next to March is the woman from the construction crew and one of the younger looking guys. March is laughing as she talks to them, but that’s hardly surprising. March talks to anyone who stays still long enough; it’s part of how her and April became such good friends in their frog year.

“Oh, April, this is Becca and Caleb,” March says when April gets back to the table. Becca and Caleb make way for April to get back to her seat, and she passes a beer to March.

“Hey” April shakes two calloused hands, offering them both a small smile. She arches an eyebrow in question at March, but she just shrugs back.

“We were just saying we’ve got enough beer to sink a battleship over there,” Becca says. “Plus a view of the stage, y’all are in the fucking nose bleeds.” She rocks back on her heels, smiling while she waits for a response.

April raises both eyebrows at March. She shrugs again and April rolls her eyes. It’s nice to know the awkwardness of the date hasn’t ruined their ability to communicate nonverbally, but March’s indecision is not helpful.

“Um, sure?” April says, mostly because she’s not sure how to say no politely. At least another one-sided conversation is less likely if they’re at a table with other people.

March’s eyebrows go up in surprise but her smile never wavers.

“Yeah?” Becca asks. “I don’t wanna like fucking pressure you or anything.”

“Beck’s s’not so good at taking hints,” Caleb cuts in, grinning through the punch he takes to arm.

“Yeah.” April’s more confident in the answer after seeing March’s reaction. She’s not nervous anymore. “I’ve heard all her stories before anyways,” she jokes, smiling when the arm March uses to punch her shoulder settles around her.

“I’ll fucking drink to that. This fuckface tells the same three goddamn stories every time we’re out. Just wait,” Becca says as she leads the group to the bigger table. Caleb scoffs but doesn’t deny anything.

April and March hover awkwardly while Becca gives directions as the group rearranges the table and yells at each other when a pitcher comes close to spilling.

“Sorry, I didn’t know how to say no,” April mumbles. March’s hand drops from where it had been resting on April’s hip to her hand. March threads their fingers together and squeezes. April isn’t sure when that started being so comforting but she hopes it never stops.

March shakes here with  a laugh. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.” She pulls April to the chairs when Becca gestures. They sit in the offered chairs.

“This is March and April, boys,” Becca says. “That’s Terry, Claude, Goose, Old Macky, Boy Macky, Spencer and that fuckface” She points out each man, ending with Caleb, who flips her off. Up close, everyone at the table is obviously built for hard work, with rough hands and wind burnt cheeks.

“Nice to meet you,” April says for lack of anything better. She starts at her hangnail again.

“Nah, it fucking ain’t,” the redhead she’s pretty sure called Claude snorts. “You look too fucking nice to be over here.”

“Well, Becca’s lied very well then,” March replies.

Old Macky lets out a loud laugh and just like that, the ice is broken. April gets pulled into a conversation with Goose across the table that starts with baseball and ends with her explaining her anthropology degree while she thinks March is arguing with Terry about sustainable agriculture. Even with how passionate March is gesturing to make her points, her thigh stays pressed against April’s. With that warm point of contact, April feels herself relax finally.

Everyone at the table has opinions about the Bruins game from earlier and is arguing loudly about the disallowed goal over the band that’s finally started playing, when Becca gets up from the table to refill the pitchers. She loudly waves off April’s attempt to help, which leaves a lull in everyone’s conversations.

“So…” Spencer starts. He looks to be the youngest after Caleb who Spencer leans over to speak to March and April. “You know Becca’s like gay right?”

“You know we’re like on a date, right?” April replies. There’s a pause.

“Well, why the fuck did you let us crash your date? Jesus Christ,” Caleb groans, shoving Spencer back to his seat.

Old Macky starts telling stories about his dates with his wife and March catches April’s eye, smiling that smile that April wants to kiss. Their date is being third-wheeled by a whole construction crew now, so she just grabs March’s hand and squeezes when everyone’s distracted by Becca coming back.

“Yo Becks, did you know they’re on a date?” Caleb asks.

“Yeah, ya fuckface,” Becca replies easily. She fills up everyone’s glass and raises hers in a toast. “May you find happiness and love and all that fucking bullshit,” she says, voice raised to be heard over the band. She pauses before drinking. “And fucking invite us to the wedding!”

They drink to that.

        It’s past midnight when April and March finally leave the bar, after waving off multiple attempts to keep them dancing. With a promise to come to the bar again, they make it onto the street, hands tightly clasped and start walking home.

"That was…,” April starts.

"Something,” March nods.

April clears her throat “A good something?” she asks, finding it easier to talk now.

March stops suddenly, tugging April back when she continues on for a few steps. March waits until April is right in front of her and then brings a hand up to her jaw. April closes her eyes and enjoys the touch, though her heart is pounding in her throat. When she opens her eyes, March’s cheeks are dimpled so April lets herself finally press her lips to March’s, easily swallowing the pleased sound that March makes.

April isn’t sure how long they kiss. The smile that March wears when they pull back makes April want to kiss her again, and she does, because that’s a thing she can do now.

“A great something,” March says when they pull apart for a second time.

The walk back to campus takes longer than 20 minutes.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #omgcp fic #omgcp women #March/April #first date #this is based on a first date i went on last year #so this piece has a really special place in my heart #im so glad I could use fictional characters to get my feelings out #i rewrote it like 7 times before i was happy sooooooo definitely one of my favourite things ive written

[thesportssoundoff]

“Jose Aldo/Max Holloway and....?” Preview for UFC 212 and the return to Brazil

Joey

May 30th, 2017

The UFC returns to Brazil with a very......awkward card. Awkward may be putting it kindly but what else can you really say? I mean what can you say about a show that has a good prelim slate, an abysmal main card but a fantastic main event? In many ways this card is eerily reminiscent of the sort of shows Jose Aldo has headlined before in Brazil. The support is weak but the fights are normally very well matched and the atmosphere always makes for a special night. This card is more or less been hampered by the obviousness of a very loaded July slate  plus the general malaise on MMA that doesn't feature "big" names PLUS the loss of Anderson Silva on this show after he turned down Rockhold and a few other opponents. Whatever the case may or may not be, this card can be broken into three main components. The first is that the main event is one of the best fights on paper this year and it sort of feels like one of those boxing fights that gets lost in the shuffle among the "major" shows or whatever. It's an amazing fight on paper pitting the best featherweight of all time and the best story arguably in the last five years. It's a five round title unification bout and in kind of a sign of how the year has gone for the UFC, a fight that was supposed to happen in February is now happening in June. Oi. The rest of the main card is, in a word, a dud. There's stuff to take from it but if you missed all of those fights, you'd live your life comfortably. The prelim slate though is really good for a prelim slate and top to bottom, there's something for everyone there. So let's try to analyze this big bundle of muss and fuss as quickly as we can, shall we?

Fights: 12

Debuts: 3 (Marlon Moraes, Deivison Alcantara and Brian Kelleher)

Fight Changes/Injury Cancellations: 3 (Anderson Silva/Kelvin Gastelum cancelled due to Gastelum's drug test failure/Leonard Santos/Olivier Aubin Mercier cancelled due to Mercier's injury/Felipe Arantes out, Brian Kelleher in)

Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC): 8 (Jose Aldo, Max Holloway, Nate Marquardt, Vitor Belfort, Claudia Gadelha, Karolina Kowalkiewicz, Erick Silva and Rafael Assuncao)

Fighters On Losing Streaks in the UFC: 1 (Nate Marqurdt)

Fighters On Winning Streaks in the UFC:  3 (Max Holloway, Antonio Carlos Jr and Iuri Alcantara)

Stat Monitor for 2017:

Debuting Fighters (Current number: 12-12)- Deivison Alcantara, Brian Kelleher and Marlon Moraes

Short Notice Fighters (Current number: 7-13)- Brian Kelleher

Second Fight (Current number: 14-17)- Viviane Perreira, Jim Wallhead, Paulo Borrachinha

Twelve Precarious Ponderings:

1- So let's start by answering the obvious. Is this the worst UFC main card for a PPV ever? No, it's not. It's merely a really bad ugly main card. Off the top of my head I could name at least 5-6 in the past few years more gutwrenchingly brutal than this one. It's a bad card but noway near the worst of its time compared to UFC 177, UFC 191, 192 or 201. Now having said that, it is a shockingly bad main card by design which would've been a shockingly bad main card even if Anderson and Gastelum had held up. There's a theory in boxing that undercards don't matter and judging by the numbers stacked undercards with merely average main events do, I'm beginning to  believe that there's something to that spreading into MMA. Even if your argument is "this show will do what it does", there's nothing wrong with sincerely hoping for more out of a main card like this one especially given how most of the PPVs this year have either fallen apart at the last minute or underdelivered come fight night.

2- So having said that, I'm willing to stamp my flag here and claim that this is the best main event on UFC PPV this year going into whenever we eventually get McGregor/Ferguson or what have you. For starters, in a sea of rematches (Rumble/DC II, Jones/DC II, Woodley/Thompson II and JDS/Miocic II), it's a fresh matchup featuring at least one fighter who is genuinely still in his prime and another fighter who even if he's slightly out of his prime, he's still one of the best fighters in the world today. Stylistically it has all of the makings of a fantastic fight as both guys are machines offensively and tremendous top flight no doubt about it cardio to boot. What's more, there are so many storylines colliding at once here. If you're a guy who just needs a big main event to be satisfied, this is the kind of main event that SHOULD get you all hot and bothered.

3- There's so much to the game of Max Holloway that suggest to me that he's most complicated opponent Jose Aldo has fought during his time in the UFC. He's long, unorthodox, kicks well with either leg and unlike McGregor, Holloway has the ability to wrestle and submit people. He won't blow you away with his power but his volume and his versatility have given plenty of people problem and  similarly while there's no question that Aldo is the best fighter Holloway has ever faced, it's not as if Max hasn't been tested.  We forget sometimes that three of Max Holloway's first five UFC fights were on short notice and that he's fought everyone from Anthony Pettis to Conor McGregor to Dennis Bermudez to Ricardo Lamas and so on so forth down the line.  So is Holloway the most complicated fighter that Jose has ever faced?

4- Is it hard to get excited about a fight if you've already seen both fighters face the champion and lose decisively?

5- So okay this main card. Vitor Belfort vs Nate Marquardt is a strange fight that would've been AWESOME in 2011 or 2012 but should be pretty sad in 2017. Karolina  vs Claudia Gadelha is a totally fine fight but perhaps lacking the sizzle in a co-main with both of them having lost to Joanna. Oluwale Bamgbose vs Paulo Borrachinha would be a stretch as a main card fight on a Brazilian fight night even if I like both guys. Yancy Meideros vs Erick Silva is a fine fight that should deliver quality action but, again, it's not exactly main card worthy. What's more, each fight here almost has this weird air of irrelevance. Of these eight fighters, how many of them will be on the roster come this time next year?

6- Paulo Borrachinha is an interesting guy under 30 in a division that could surely use some interesting guys under 30. Borrachinha's power as well on display vs Gareth McClellan but I think we can all agree that beating McClellan doesn't mean a whole lot. At the same time, his ascent from prelim opener in  his debut to main card on PPV in his second fight suggests that they see something in the guy.

7- Erick Silva vs Yancy Meideros is an interesting fight and NOT because of the always popular Brazilian. Well, not entirely at least. Yancy Meideros made his debut at 170 lbs and was ultra impressive in KO-ing Sean Spencer. We've seen guys who were hit or miss at a lower weight class move up in weight and be dominant (Rumble, Robert Whittaker, Jorge Masvidal) so maybe Meideros' natural ability and power will carry better.

8- Marlon Moraes is one of the best bantamweights in the world so it's nice to see him finally popping into the UFC and already getting a big fight. IF Moraes beats Raphael Assuncao, does he leapfrog the likes of Cruz and the winner of Rivera/Almeida for a title shot?

9- Do we feel better about Antonio Carlos Junior now that we know that Dan Kelly's a genuinely good fighter despite his age and relatively garbage athletic profile?

10- So if this is the last fight of VItor Belfort's UFC career and he's probably going to go to your competitors, why would you put him in against a somewhat chinny aged middleweight? Other than to suggest you do not give a single shit about what Vitor does once he's out of your hair. Just seems like a pretty goofy fight to put together if Vitor's heading to your opposition.

11- "Buried" on the prelims, I really like Johnny Eduardo vs Matthew Lopez. Matthew Lopez was one of the many "failed" (I suppose?) Looking For A Fight guys who came in when there was a new Lookin' For A Fight guy.every other card. Having said that, Lopez is a pretty interesting prospect who showcased massive improvements in his grappling over when he fought Rani Yahya. He's a very good athlete who seems to be improving each time out. Johnny Eduardo is one of those super trusty veterans who can test a guy and beat up on veteran fighters. Fun test for a decent prospect.

12- Jim Wallhead vs Luan Chagas is an interesting fight because Chagas is a fun fighter until his cardio breaks about 7 minutes in. Wallhead is the opposite, a dude who can be beaten up on early on but tends to make a big rally later on in the fight. That could make for some compelling drama down the stretch.

Must Win

Karolina Kowalkeiwicz

Karolina K is the one on this main card with the most to lose if you really think about it. We've seen Claudia vs Joanna twice and that second fight sort of kind of drifts her into Joe Benavidez territory. On the other hand, Karolina Kowalkeiwicz had some success vs Joanna but nothing that would immediately make you feel like she had a better chance if they rematched. Still to EVEN be in that discussion, Karolina has to beat Claudia Gadelha and Claudia's pretty much unbeatable in three round fights. So good luck, dude.

Paulo Borrachinha

Again, it's very rare for a guy to go from Fight Pass prelims to PPV main card in an instant. Paulo Borrachinha is doing that in his fight vs Oluwale Bamgbose. Middleweight, once the home of the Brazilians, has seen the likes of Anderson Silva, Thales Leites, Lyoto Machida and Jacare Silva all fall on tough times recently. The best Brazilian MW right now is campaigning at 170 lbs. The goal when they got into Brazil (besides making a fortune) was to potentially open the door for brand new talents and it could be argued that outside of some very talented fighters under 155 lbs, they've totally whiffed on that goal. Maybe Borrachinha can be a guy who opens the door to that next level for the UFC in Brazil.

Marlon Moraes

If Marlon Moraes were to happen to lose, I don't QUITE think the world would come to an end. At the same time, it'd really be nice to have a hype project turn out this year after so many hyped commodities have either been unimpressive or flat out lost. This is no easy task for Moraes as Raphael Assuncao is not just a very good bantamweight but the sort of bantamweight who can make you look like shit even in a win. Moraes is all action all the time and watching him fight is a joy----but he could be in some trouble here.

Five Underlying Themes

1- The crowd and how they respond to Jose Aldo. This is Aldo's first major fight in Brazil since his loss to Conor McGregor and who knows if the fans will still see Aldo as a star despite beating Edgar AND despite having his own movie made about his life.

2-  How they hype Paulo Borrachinha on these shows.

3- Whether or not Jose Aldo folds fighting in Brazil for the first time in what should be a hostile environment.

4- Do we get ANY sort of hint as to who the #1 contender is?

5- Will they make any mention of Anderson Silva given the kerfuffle he caused on this show?

#MMA #UFC #UFC 212 #Brazil #Max Holloway #Jose Aldo

[nbatrades]

Golden State Warriors End Todd Fuller Partnership; Deal Center to Utah Jazz

On February 4th, 1999, the Golden State Warriors traded center Todd Fuller to the Utah Jazz for a 2000 second round draft pick (Chris Porter).

Coming off a 36-46 finish to the 1995-96 campaign, the Golden State Warriors were looking for help with the 11th pick in the 1996 NBA Draft. With players like Kobe Bryant, Jermaine O’Neal, Steve Nash and Peja Stojakovic available, the Warriors opted for big man Todd Fuller. Fuller had been productive as a four-year player at NC State. In his senior season, he made the All-ACC first team after averaging 20.9 PPG and 9.9 RPG. 

The Warriors got off to a 3-10 start during the 1996-97 campaign. They never recovered and finished well short of a playoff appearance with a 30-52 record. Fuller began his NBA career starting at center for Golden State, but lost his spot nine games into the season. He ended up spending most of the season as a reserve behind veteran Felton Spencer. Overall, Fuller compiled 4.1 PPG and 3.3 RPG in 75 appearances (18 starts) and 12.7 MPG. 

After the season, head coach Rick Adelman was fired and the Warriors replaced him with P.J. Carleismo. The Warriors made some moves at center by trading Chris Mullin to the Indiana Pacers for Fuller’s 1996 draft class peer Erick Dampier. The team also drafted center Adonal Foyle from Colgate with their first round pick. 

The 1997-98 Warriors were a miserable bunch. The team began the season 1-13. At that point, star Latrell Sprewell choked coach Carleismo in practice and he would be suspended for the rest of the season. The team also made three trades during the season including a deal with Philadelphia that sent Joe Smith to the Sixers. At the end of the season, Golden State finished 19-63.

Fuller played less, but ended his second pro season with nearly identical numbers to his first year. The 6′11″ Fuller managed 4.0 PPG and 3.4 RPG in 57 games and 10.8 MPG.

The Warriors gave up on Fuller near the start of the lockout shortened 1998-99 season. Golden State was mocked for selecting Fuller over the previously mentioned names that all went on to become All-Stars. The Warriors looked to get off of Fuller’s salary in a trade that saw them acquire a meager second round pick.

Fuller ended his run in Golden State with 4.0 PPG and 3.4 RPG in 132 career games. He shot 43% on field goals and 69% from the free-throw line in that time.

The Jazz had to waive guard Saddi Washington to make room for Fuller on their roster. Washington had originally made Utah’s roster out of training camp.

Fuller went from a perennial cellar dweller in Golden State, to a title contender in the Utah Jazz. With Michael Jordan retired, the Jazz were one of the clear cut favorites for a title. Utah had Greg Ostertag and Greg Foster manning the middle, but Foster entered the lockout-shortened season recovering from a broken ankle.

Fuller was given some minutes as a backup during the 1998-99 season. The 6′11 big man appeared in 42 games (2 starts) and compiled 3.4 PPG and 2.4 RPG in 11.0 MPG. 

Utah started off the season with a bang, winning nine of their first 10 games. At the 40-game mark, the Jazz had the best record in the NBA at 32-8. They went 5-5 over the final ten games to finish 37-13 and in a tie with the San Antonio Spurs for the first seed. The Spurs owned the head-to-head tiebreaker (2-1), so Utah dropped from first to the third seed in the Western Conference.

The Jazz went on to the playoffs where they battled the Sacramento Kings in the first round. Expected to be an easy series, the Jazz dominated Game One with a 117-87 drubbing. Sacramento responded well in Game Two, stealing homecourt with a 101-90 win.

The third game was tight and went into overtime. Vlade Divac made two jump hooks late to give Sacramento an 83-81 edge with 22 second left. Fuller missed two free throws that would’ve tied the game, and John Stockton missed a three at the buzzer, giving Sacramento a stunning 2-1 series lead.

Facing elimination, the Jazz battled back on the road in Game Four. Facing a one-point deficit with 7.2 seconds left, Stockton managed to shake free from the defense off a Karl Malone screen and nailed a long two to give Utah a 90-89 lead with 00.7 seconds left on the clock. The Kings could never get off a shot and Utah managed to take the series back home for a decisive Game Five.

The series deciding game was close throughout and went to overtime. Despite cold shooting nights from Stockton (1-for-12) and Malone (6-for-19), the Jazz managed to pull through with an 11-4 advantage in overtime, They won the game 99-92 and the series 3-2. Fuller played in all five first round games and produced 2.2 PPG on 33.3% shooting and 3.6 RPG in 10.8 MPG.

Utah advanced to the Semifinals where they faced the 33-17 Portland Trail Blazers. The Blazers built a 15-point advantage in the first half of the series opener, but Utah got back into the game. It was a close game, with Portland leading by four points going into the fourth quarter. The Blazers collapsed as Utah outscored them 19-5 to win 93-83.

The second game in Utah was tight once again. Portland managed to take a two-point lead late after a Greg Anthony free throw. With 9.2 seconds left, John Stockton missed a potential game-tying layup. Portland ended up tying the series with an 84-81 win.

Game Three in Portland saw the Blazers use a 25-2 run in the first half to power their way to a comfortable 97-87 victory. Blazers guard Isaiah Rider (24 points) guided Portland to a 3-1 series lead after a close 81-75 win. The Jazz got 23 points from Karl Malone and 22 points from Bryon Russell in a comfortable 88-71 win that prevented Utah’s playoff elimination. 

Game Six in Portland was close. Utah managed to get within two points on a Bryon Russell layup and Jeff Hornacek free throw with 1:21 left. Portland outscored Utah 12-2 in the final minute-plus to win the game 92-80 and the series 4-2. Fuller appeared in five of the six Conference Semifinals games and put up 3.0 PPG and 2.0 RPG in 10.2 MPG.

Fuller became a free agent after the ‘98-‘99 season. Utah and Fuller both expressed interest in a new deal. Fuller showed his commitment to the Jazz by playing in Summer League for the Jazz team despite not having a new contract. Fuller largely disappointed in Summer League and never signed a contract with Utah. Fuller ended up signing a deal with the Charlotte Hornets for the 1999-00 season.

The second rounder that the Warriors acquired from Utah became the 55th overall selection in the 2000 NBA Draft. The pick was used on forward Chris Porter from Auburn. A former SEC Player of the Year and second-team All-American during his junior season, Porter and Auburn's performance tailed off in his senior campaign. Porter's individual numbers dropped and he became a news headline after news broke that he had accepted money from a sports agent to prevent his mother from being evicted from her home. The infraction cost Porter the last eight games of the college season.

The whole scenario had dropped Porter from a likely first round pick to a late second rounder. A problem for Porter was his lack of a true position on the court. A power forward in college, Porter was the size of a traditional small forward in the NBA, but he lacked a jump shot. 

The 2000-01 Warriors struggled from the jump. The team lost seven of their first eight games. Things would not improve much as they finished a Western Conference-worst 17-65. Porter was able to see some action in his rookie season and start multiple games. The 6′8″ forward appeared in 51 games (35 starts) and posted 8.6 PPG on 38.9% from the field, 3.7 RPG, 1.2 APG and 0.9 SPG in 22.5 MPG.

In late August of 2001, Porter was arrested on drug possession charges in Alabama. Soon after, the forward would be a throw-in in a three-team trade with the Charlotte Hornets and Philadelphia 76ers in late October of 2001.

Todd Fuller on the pressure he felt in Golden State (via Jazz.com):

“The franchise was really struggling, and they were looking for a savior every year it seemed like. I didn't fit that bill and never have through my career. It put tons of pressure on me, which was counterproductive.”

How he feels no pressure in Utah:

“I can certainly say it has helped that I can come in and not have all the excess pressure and feeling like I have all the eyes on me. Of course I’m the new guy here so everybody is going to be watching me anyway, but I don't feel like I have the extreme pressure that I had when I was with the Warriors.”

How Utah has more confidence due to veteran leadership:

“Here you’ve got a veteran base of players as opposed to the Warriors, especially my first year or two, where we only had a couple veterans. We’ve got some great players here in Karl [Malone] and John [Stockton] who are used to winning and used to success. And the confidence level is higher here than it was with the Warriors my first year.”

On his future with the Jazz and pending free agency:

“I don't even think about [free agency] now. There’s today, and then the next day, step by step, that's the only way I can look at things. There's a ton of basketball left this season, so there's still a long way to go.”

On the argument that the Warriors have nothing to show for recent lottery picks (via SF Gate):

“They’re going to have some backbone to the argument if they (critics) say that. Joe [Smith] was here just a couple of years and he was traded. I was here just a couple of years and I’m traded. I can’t argue there's nothing to show for it at the moment.”

Golden State Warriors general manager Garry St. Jean on why the trade was made (via SF Gate):

“The opportunity was there to acquire a pick where there wasn’t a salary involved coming back. Those were the key things.”

Utah Jazz vice president of basketball operations Scott Layden on Fuller’s development early on in Utah (via Jazz.com):

“A lot of people think you’ve got to wait three or four years for a big guy before he’ll actually make a contribution. So maybe we were fortunate he was able to fit into this system and be at the right time of when he was ready.”

Jazz head coach Jerry Sloan on how being in the right place at the right time is important for Fuller (via Jazz.com):

“Being in the right place at the right time is a very big factor in this league. Some players will have a chance maybe in one situation where they didn’t in another. If you realize the situation you’re in, you take advantage of it. One of the things that’s really unfortunate a lot of times is, you get a lottery player like [Fuller] was, expectations are high. They expect him to be a Jabbar or somebody like that. That’s really unfair. Then a guy like Todd comes in here and it's just ‘come and play.’ You don’t have to worry about where you were picked in the draft.”

Image via AP

#1999 #1998*99 Season #Todd Fuller #Chris Porter #Warriors #Jazz

[dontshootmespence]

Desperate and Broken

A/N: A request from @soulfulreid for a Spencer x Reader where the two are best friends and she realizes that he has been pulling away from her. She finds out he’s back on drugs. @coveofmemories

                                                           ------

Something is definitely wrong with him.

Why hasn’t he said anything to me? We’ve been friends for nearly a decade. What could be going on in his life that is so horrible he couldn’t tell me? Spencer had been to hell and back in his years with the Bureau. He’d been shot multiple times. His boss’s wife had been shot dead with her child just upstairs. He’d had his own girlfriend shot right before his eyes. He’d been captured by a serial killer and tortured for days. He’d been addicted to drugs because of it. And you’d been there through it all.

But lately something was definitely wrong. His skin had taken on a drawn look, his eyes sinking further and further into his skull, as though he were actually in the act of dying. He’d been pulling away not only from his friends at the BAU, but you as well. He was pulling away from you...it was extremely unlike him. He told you everything. Had you done something wrong and not noticed? Couldn’t be.

It didn’t matter. Something was wrong with your best friend and you needed to figure out what it was, so instead of calling him and having him blow you off, as he had been apt to do lately, you pushed yourself up off the couch, put your hair in the crappiest bun possible and walked down the street in your pajamas. You looked like hell, but honestly you didn’t give a flying fuck.

As you walked into Spencer’s building, you started to grow hot with anger. After ten years, what the fuck wouldn’t he want to tell you; you were hurt. Furiously, you knocked on the door and waited until you heard Spencer on the other side of the door. “What is it, Y/N?” he said, seemingly aggravated. Had you interrupted something? “I can’t hang out today.” You heard footsteps start to walk away from the door, so you banged on the door again and screamed back.

“I don’t care!” you yelled, the smoke practically coming out of your ears. “Something is wrong and you’re not telling me. I will not have you push me out. Open the goddamn door!”

With a quick motion that startled you, causing you to hop back from the door, Spencer opened up. He looked like absolute hell. The sinking look in his face was even more exaggerated. “What’s wrong?” you asked pointedly. “Are you sick? Is work getting to you? Tell me,” you croaked. “My best friend is in pain and he won’t let me help.”

Without saying a word, Spencer turned away from the door, so you invited yourself in. “You can’t just come over here whenever you want,” he snapped, the hair practically matting to his forehead. It looked like he hadn’t taken a shower in does. What the fuck was going on? Plus, you’d been inviting yourself over to his apartment for practically nine years at this point - and now it was a problem? No. Just further proof that something was very, very wrong.

In your standoff, you also said nothing, instead looking around his apartment for some indication of what was wrong with him. Then you spotted it. On his bookshelf. Ever since you’d met him, he had his books in the same place on each shelf. He never moved them. But one of his copies of Anna Karenina, the Russian one maybe, was in the wrong place - on its side, a shelf below where it normally was. When you made the step over to the bookshelf, he lunged toward you in an attempt to rip the book from you, but you pulled away and ran across the room, opening the book as you went.

This was his English copy of the novel and he’d hollowed it out. Spencer had hollowed out a book. You knew something was wrong. Inside was the dilauded he swore he’d never get into again. You were there nearly eight years before when he first got addicted to it. But that had been Tobias Henkel’s fault. This...why? He’d gotten past this. He had people to talk to. “What the hell is this?” you screamed, throwing the empty book across the floor and holding up the bottle. “This is why you’ve been puling away from me? Because you’re into this garbage again?” 

The determination and anger in his eyes immediately softened to a look of disappointment. He attempted to open his mouth, but nothing came out. “Why Spence?” you cried, hot tears falling onto the floor beneath you. “What could be going on in your life that would cause you to turn to drugs rather than me?”

“I don’t want to unload my work on you,” he cracked, shuffling his feet back and forth. “I struggle every day with the images I see and you didn’t sign up for that.”

“I did!” you yelled, your neck straining in anger as you ran toward his bedroom, which faced an alleyway. “I didn’t join the BAU, but I’m your best friend! I signed on for helping you through whatever you came up against and vice versa! At least, that’s what I thought!” As you opened the window, he attempted to stop you, but you hurled the bottle out of the window and watched as it smashed the opposing wall, the glass shattering into a million pieces and the liquid seeping into the concrete.

“Y/N! Dammit!” he exclaimed, turning around and knocking a mess of crap off his desk. “Do you know what I have to go through to get that?”

“Yes!” you screamed, walking up to him and pushing him in the chest. “Or don’t you remember how you told me about all of this eight years ago!” The heated tears continued to flow as you walked out of his bedroom and he ran after you, grabbing your wrists and turning you to him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his lip quivering with disappointment. He looked utterly heartbroken, sick and desperate, and it broke you. He was deserving of so much more than this. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you. It seems I disappoint everyone.”

Leaning into him, you began to sob, beating his chest with your fists as he continued to apologize. “This isn’t about me being disappointed,” you cried. “It’s about you. You’re in such pain that you felt the need to turn to drugs. You’re hurting, that’s why I’m devastated. It has nothing to do with disappointment.”

As he pushed you away, you thought that maybe you had said the wrong thing, that he was going to dive right back into the drugs and forget this conversation ever happened, but he didn’t. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out another bottle of dilauded, and another, and another, until he returned to you with six bottles of drugs from all over the apartment. Taking them and putting them in your bag, you made a note to find a way to properly dispose of them later. Your anger had caused you to throw the one out the window, but if you did that with the rest of them someone might take notice and trace them back to him. “It’s gonna be okay, Spence,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You need NA meetings again. You need to talk to someone. If it can’t be me, then someone, please. I can’t watch you like this.”

“I’ll get help,” he cracked. “I promise...I’m sorry. I never wanted...”

You placed your finger on his lips, silently telling him to stop. You didn’t want an apology. You wanted him to get help. “You’re gonna get through this again. I’m going to make sure of it.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dontshootmespence #desperate and broken