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ameliemaaaee · 3 months ago

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The Silent Witness - Oneshot Series

(1) How you Meet the BAU Team.

Chapter Information Summary: Y/N finds herself enravelled in the depths of a puzzling case which can only be solved in conjunction with one infamous FBI unit. Content Warnings: Canon Violence/Gore, Awkward!Reader & Spencer, Platonic Hotel Room Sharing. Word Count: 7,986. Read on AO3

Story Masterlist - (1) -

The London Underground was not your favourite place. Yes, you were grateful for London’s fabulous public transport system, especially on the mornings where bumper-to-bumper traffic would only frustrate you more. However, the constant work-day rush of people in business attire, provided a stark contrast to all the tourists in their flamboyant outfits, both equally surmounting your dissociative annoyance.

Not to mention the germs. There was a study done on that. It proved that, when swabbed, The London Underground was the dirtiest place in the city, with ninety-five different strains of bacteria found. In fact, you happened to be friends with this researcher, who in confidence told you that even a one-hour trip on the Tube is enough to raise the long-term risk of heart attacks. And this was simply due to the air pollution. It made you shiver just thinking about it. It was a shame driving in the city was slower.

You were rushed to say the least, evading the rush hour was top priority when you weren’t on call, however an interesting case had come in and your expertise was required. It wasn’t uncommon for you to be in high demand, despite your age you were renowned in London for your competency as a forensic pathologist.

Your life for so many years had resolved around the dead, those whom you had to pry the clues out of. Work remained your whole life, the ability to gather evidence from the silent witness, and bring justice to many was beyond comforting to you. The feeling of winning a case against someone you had scientifically proven guilty, defeated the solemn, and gruesome nature of your job by ten-fold.

Now, you focused on the rattling train below your feet as you timidly clutched the railing above your head. The shuddering sound of the train drawing to a halt beneath your feet, rocking you back and forth. This was it.

The platform was abnormally busy as you made a beeline for the exit, barely noticing the busker who provided the soundtrack to the mornings of so many, for so cheap. Bounding up the steps you surfaced alongside block-red lettering screaming ‘Charing Cross’, The Embankment was just a short walk from here.

You weren’t too sure of the details of your newest case, quite simply that it was ‘a big one’ and that it was a rather public disposal. Public disposals were common in London, however public disposals in busy Underground stations weren’t. Especially with the Night Tube services. A public disposal site told you that this kill was a threat. Whoever it was wanted their attention, they wanted their case to be public, the wanted London to shudder with fear. But alas, the closed station required more walking.

Brushing shoulders with strangers, much like the rest, your gaze was dead set on where you were going. And as The Embankment station neared you sighed. This was tourist London, The Embankment opened out onto the Thames, and once you reached the Thames, Westminster, and Big Ben was in View, and the famed London Eye. But you didn’t have time to take in the part of the city you never dared to enter, you had work.

As you reached the station the Mounted Police immediately caught your eye. Sat astride their horses were people attempting to control and direct the crowds back to Charing Cross; no wonder it had been so abhorrently busy. Ducking under the police tape you were greeted by an uninterested officer who guiltlessly looked you up-and-down. Plastering a smile on face you removed your identification and shoved it politely into his face.

“Dr. Y/N L/N. Home-Office Pathologist.” The officer remains stoic, thumbing you towards a set of stairs where a familiar face stood, ever-stoic, patiently waiting.

“Where’s the body?” You omit the greeting. Angela knew you too well, and you both were past the ‘good morning’s’ and ‘hello’s’ that seemed the ever-so-polite thing to do.

You were a tight-knit pair, ever since school, and bonding over your preferred use of the Oxford comma, you had both shared a solid friendship. It wasn’t based off greetings or words, nor a physical display of affection. It was based off the reliability and trust you felt for each other. It was a simple, and honest friendship. That allowed you to occasionally let-loose on your days off. But today would not be one of those days, in fact you wouldn’t see one ever again.

“The top of the stairs, it’s a male. He’s probably in his 30’s. He has a series of interesting tattoos.” Angela’s candour filled your ears, her level tone forever reassuring you of the collective, daily, London anxiety, which seemed to radiate throughout the city.

“Interesting how?” You raised a brow in curiosity, a small chuckle escaping your lips as Angela rolled her eyes, pushing her teal-ish hair behind her ears, mixing it with her original black-ish strands.

“Interesting as in, you-need-to-see-this-and-contact-the-appropriate-people. That kind of interesting.” She said it so nonchalantly, ‘call the appropriate people.’ That didn’t sound interesting, that sounded like ‘this-guy-has-tattoos-relating-to-some-form-of-terrorism-plans-and-you-should-bring-in-counterterrorism’. And boy, were you right.

“This is bad.” You deadpanned, you had no adjectives for how bad it was, other than it was very, very bad. The police officer a great distance behind you bit his thumb anxiously as you stood buried in a white HazMat-style SOCO suit, Angela kneeling beside you, silently shaking her head.

“Angela, I don’t even know who to call about this.” You gestured to the male lay ahead of you, his body scrawled with descriptive instructions on ‘blowing up the D.C Capitol Building.’

And that’s how you ended up at a bar, drinking with the FBI’s distinguished Behavioural Analysis Unit.

The thrashing of bass pounded against your chest as you sauntered through the doorway, away from the cool night air and into the warmth of the bar. You weren’t expecting there to be any live music, but you were pleasantly surprised by the quality of the music, that soon would be drowned out by cheap liquor.

The rest of the BAU trailed into the establishment behind you, slight grins on their faces. All of you had changed, ditching the work clothes. The FBI’s plane would be grounded until tomorrow evening, so they were officially off-duty, and allowed to have fun.

And by the looks on the group’s faces you all needed this, the tensions had run high during your latest case and there had been weeks’ worth of sleepless nights, that the medical doctor deep down inside you didn’t approve of.

“Let’s find a booth!” Garcia practically yelled down your ear over the music. You nodded pointing to a room that sat off the main stage area, where it would undoubtedly be quieter.

Heaving a sigh of relief you slid into a booth, in between the males you had come to know as Dr. Spencer Reid, and Derek Morgan. The men all chuckled lightly as Agent Hotchner stands.

“First round is on me!” You laugh quietly, tucking a stray strand of hair away from your face before giving Hotch your order, double vodka and Diet Coke, your drink of choice.

“You know, I’d never been to London until now.” Derek chuckles, as he leans forward, his elbow resting on the table. His gaze connected with yours.

“It’s a nice city.” Spencer chimes as you shake your head laughing.

“You haven’t even seen it.” You smile, leaning back against the plush backing of the circular booth, your gaze finding Hotch who was carrying a tray of drinks, making a beeline for the table. You hadn’t had a night out in so long, you were practically buzzing at the concept of alcohol.

The band’s melody had faded to a distant hum, your heart synching with the echoing bass that still rumbled the ground beneath your feet.

“I must say, you scrub up nicely Dr. L/N.” You turn your head to Derek who takes in your frame. Derek was an attractive man, you couldn’t lie, and you knew he meant no harm by his comment, but you couldn’t help but feel scrutinised.

You offer him a polite laugh, before turning to Hotch who was dishing out the alcohol. Gratefully you took your drink from his hand, taking a long sip. If you wanted to be able to actually hold a conversation without being too uptight, you would need to be at least tipsy. Plus, the alcohol made you forget about… well, the alcohol that was terrible for your health.

“So, Y/N, I assume this has been an interesting week for you?” You chuckle at Rossi, who raises his glass, before sipping on what appeared to be whiskey.

Due to the commotion at the Police stations, and the high-risk of having FBI agents in London they had been assigned to a more discrete location; and lucky for you, that was your lab.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to having FBI agents in your jurisdiction, in fact it was the opposite. You were fascinated by their work, in law-enforcement they were truly celebrated for their research, and work. You just weren’t too chuffed by the idea of new people, of which there were now seven.

They all looked, strangely, just how you would imagine a team of FBI agents looking, all but one. The flamboyant one. She was dressed in a way you could only describe as eccentric, her blonde hair curled at the ends, sections held in place by red-rose clips to match her dress. She seemed friendly, despite the sombre circumstances, a half-smile chopping her features.

The rest seemed to blend in. There was another woman, her slender frame, and long blonde hair somewhat reminiscent of the mean girls at school. The rest were all male. We had, the obvious team leader, he stood tall, clad in a black suit. How would you chase bad guys in that? Next, was the cliché buff guy, who spent too much time at the gym. Finally, the skinny, sweater vest guy, and an Italian?

“You must be Dr. L/N.” The team leader spoke up, making his way towards you, his hand outstretched. You found yourself staring at it for a brief moment, as if the action were strange to you, before you realised, he wanted a handshake. You offered a slight smile as you reluctantly gripped his hand, shaking it.

“Supervisory Special Agent, Aaron Hotchner, but you may call me Hotch.” You nod, keeping your gaze on the floor. You were in a room with a bunch of criminal profilers. That was scary. Could they profile you? Would they? Were they profiling you right now? You weren’t exactly keen on the gazes boring into you.

“This is my team, we have Supervisory Special Agent, David Rossi.” You wave awkwardly as he gestures to the Italian guy, unsure of what social conduct was required to meet criminal profilers. David Rossi smiles at you, offering a brief salute that would have made you chuckle in better circumstances. Perhaps you would be better, in better circumstances.

“Supervisory Special Agent, Jennifer Jareau.” The pretty blonde leans forward hand outstretched, as you smile awkwardly. Her grip was firm, irking you less that Hotchner’s handshake. However, you already felt inferior to these individuals, no number of correct-introductions or doctorates could save you. They hunt criminals for a living. Yes, it may not need a doctorate, in fact, you weren’t sure any of them were doctors. But they certainly weren’t cowardly in a mere social situation, like you.

“Supervisory Special Agent, Derek Morgan.” You react quickly this time, lifting your hand in a quick, but still awkward wave to the incredibly muscular guy in front of you. Derek Morgan seemed like such a fitting name for him, in fact, you weren’t sure there was a name more suited for him in all the 5,163 first names, and 151,671 last names commonly used in the United States of America.

“We also have our Technical Analyst, Special Agent, Penelope Garcia.” The eccentric techie waves her hand cheerily, a wide smile breaking out on her face. She seemed sweet, and you were glad to see a female computer nerd. There certainly wasn’t enough of them in this universe. Her grin was infectious as you attempted to hide yours with the floor.

“Last but not least, we have our resident genius.” Your head snapped up at that. ‘Resident genius’? What rendered this guy a genius? You supposed, he looked smart. But you couldn’t quite decipher if it was just the sweater vest. In fact, he looked more jet-lagged that smart.

“Supervisory Special Agent, Doctor Spencer Reid.” Ah, a doctor.

You smile slightly, glad the introductions were over.

“Yeah, I have worked a fair few high-profile cases in my time, but this probably tops them.” You smile at the group, your gaze connecting with JJ and Garcia who both offer you sweet smiles. You can feel Spencer’s gaze on you as he clutches a glass of water in his right hand.

“It certainly tops ours.” JJ smiles, leaning towards you, a chuckle escaping her lips. “I never thought we would see an international case, never mind this.” You smile, bringing your drink to your lips, taking a refreshing sip.

“I- How do you do what you do? I mean- the chopping and the blood and guts and-“ Garcia frantically waves her hands in front of her, very nearly knocking over her martini as she rants.

“Garcia- she’s used to it, just like we are.” You nod in agreement with Hotch, your ears tuning in the set change happening with the band next door.

You scan the remainder of the room you were in, the bar was fairly quiet, most of the younger crows would have moved onto nightclubs by now. You could see various groups of people seated in their booths, most of them appearing as if they were celebrating, which felt fitting for your occasion.

“You know-“ You turn back to Rossi who was pointing a finger at you, a sly smile on his face.

“-I thought this week was going to be a drag when you asked us to surrender out firearms.” You watch as small chuckles erupt from the rest of the team, allowing yourself to join in with them.

You watch the team, stare at you expectantly, kicking yourself into gear.

“I have a room for you, a conference room.” You direct your statement towards Hotch who nods his head sharply, gesturing for you to lead the way. And you did. You guided them towards your conference room.

It was a large room with glass windows. On the back wall was a large TV screen designed for presenting, in the corner a safe. It was quite simple by design; a room, a TV, a table, and chairs that surrounded it. You weren’t sure it was FBI approved with its scratchy carpet and simplicity, but it would have to do.

“I hope it’s okay.” You try to say it with confidence, as you stand by the door the agents filing into the room, but your voice comes out as more of a squeak. Typically, this causes you to make unnecessary eye-contact with the Doctor.

“Uhm- You are going to have to surrender your firearms.” This certainly got a reaction from all but Aaron Hotchner, who likely, was aware of this.

“Why?” The doctor spoke up, as the rest of the team curiously gazed at me.

“Fire-arm residue. You are gonna be around bodies that haven’t had post-mortems, and you could contaminate them. So, I take the arms.” You watched as half of the team swallowed harshly, obviously not-to-sure about not having a weapon, which was such an odd reality of Americans.

“You’ll get them back, don’t worry. It’s just anywhere beyond this room would count as an unnecessary contamination. I think your Unit Chief was informed?” Your gaze turned to Hotchner who nodded.

“Guys, the weapons will be retrieved if we are leaving the building.” The team nod, clearly becoming more willing to surrender as they remove their holsters. You reach for a plastic box, holding it out as you walk around the group, being handed the various heavy weapons.

“I don’t carry.” You nod politely at the technical analyst, moving finally towards the male you now knew as Spencer Reid. He placed a revolver into the box, odd choice.

“Okay this is your safe, the code is 62282. Please remember it.” You quickly place the weapons, and the plastic box into the safe, locking the door with a loud beep. Before you walk to the door, watching everyone settle in.

You stand uncomfortably at the door as you watch them lay their belongings down on the table awaiting some sort of response, or a cue to leave.

“Yeah, I don’t have a good track record when I’m not carrying a firearm.” Spencer chuckles, pulling his glass back up to his lips.

“Boy wonder here doesn’t do well in close-combat situations.” You watch as Derek reaches over you, ruffling Spencer’s hair, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

“Awh, it’s okay. I don’t think close combat would be much use against someone with a bomb.” You offer Spencer a friendly smile, as his gaze connects with yours. He offers you a shy smile as you nod towards his glass.

“No alcohol? Very responsible.” Spencer shakes his head, still grinning.

“Someone’s got to be sober.” You nod, laughing as JJ and Garcia stand, walking towards you.

The pair grab you by the arms, attempting to pull you over Spencer, you chuckle awkwardly as Spencer stands, allowing them to drag you out of the booth. They wrap their arms under yours as you stumble on your heels, feeling the alcohol hit you.

“We are dancing.” Garcia gently taps your nose with her pointer finger as JJ supports you on your feet. She laughs as you feel your face pale slightly.

“I-I don’t dance. Plus, this is a bar, not a nightclub.” Your gaze falls on the rest of the team who seem extremely amused at the girl who couldn’t stand properly after only one drink. You sigh slightly.

“I’m a doctor, I know how bad alcohol is, so I don’t drink often, okay?” You watch as the remaining men laugh at your dramatic statement as JJ slowly releases you from her grasp, satisfied that you would be able to stand alone.

An idea pops into your head.

“People don’t dance in bars over here, but I do know my way around London.” You raise a brow, watching as the team look at you inquisitively.

“You lot hunt serial killers. How about Jack the Ripper? Spencer you could be the tour guide!” You laugh as their faces morph into one of understanding, a look of excitement settling on Spencer’s face.

“Alright, we have work to do. We need to start brainstorming.” Hotch’s voice rang out throughout the room as he gestured for you to make your way to the front of the room.

“Okay, so there has been no post-mortem done as of yet, but I can show you pictures from the crime scene yesterday, and the close-ups produced by my lab tech.” You stand in front of the team, all eyes trailed on you. You quickly turned the TV on with the remote, leaning over the table and logging into the laptop.

“So, the unidentified male is assumed to be around 27 years old, he was found in a very public London Underground station, lay on his back. As you can see, he was shirtless with an intricate tattoo scrawled over his body.”

The team nods, as you pull up the picture. The screen filing with the photos of a dead man shot point-blank in the head. You notice the team’s tech analyst wriggle uncomfortably in her seat and you chuckle.

“I’m so sorry, feel free to look away if you need.” You smile at the woman as she gives you a small grin, opening her laptop and beginning what you assumed was some sort of research.

“What Underground station was he found in?” You smile as Rossi speaks up, leaning forward to your laptop, laughing.

“I have a map for you, I figured it would be more use than just giving you a name.” You pull up a map of the London underground system against the landscape, turning to see it on the television screen.

“Okay so, the male was found at The Embankment station which-“

“-The Embankment has a huge, empty substation attached to it, that has actually been abandoned since 1957. It’s called ‘Pages Walk’ and is located behind a blast door in the station.” Dr. Reid cuts you off, as you chuckle. You smile politely at the rest of the team, the male introduced to you as SSA. Morgan held his head in his hands, shaking it slightly.

“Right, you are doctor. I was going to say that it was notoriously ‘Tourist London’, and opens out onto the Thames, with all the tourist attractions, but that works too.” You shrug, offering Spencer a slightly awkward thumb up.

You widen your eyes at the sound of your name, making eye contact with the lanky Dr. Reid who was now making his way over to you. Work talk, you could do that. Spencer stood beside you as you watched the team settle for a moment more, before following you out of the door.

“How many times do you reckon I will have to remind you lot of the safe code?” You chuckle to yourself, trying to make simple, light-hearted conversation. He was a doctor, maybe you could level with him?

“I have an eidetic memory.” His reply was so simple, so nonchalant. But it caused you to furrow your brow. He was a resident genius, and you were not going to be capable enough to level with him. You open your mouth as if to speak but decide against it. No need to incite more awkward interactions.

Instead, he decided to incite it.

“How long have you been a pathologist for?” His question was simple, the answer was simple. So why were you panicking? You knew that you felt inferior, but that wasn’t something that bothered you often. Spit. It. Out.

“Uhm, around four years.” You reply, trying to keep your voice level, and even. Anything to illude to your oh-so-confident demeanour.

“You seem young.” It was a statement, phrased like a question, one that needed answering. You weren’t young, you were 29. But by normal standards, you were too young to be a pathologist of five years.

“Yeah, I guess? What are you a doctor of?” You quickly deflect the question, but almost immediately regret it.

“I have, uhm, three PHDs.” You try not to hold your mouth agape, resident genius ringing in your ears. You were only slightly glad of his hesitation. Surely announcing you had three PHDs wasn’t easy. That required admitting that you were a superior being. But then again, with an eidetic memory it was no surprise he had 3 PHDs.

“They are in, uhm, chemistry, mathematics, and engineering.” You nod, humming along in affirmation as if this were a normal thing, and frankly you surprise yourself. Once you got over the initial shock it wasn’t so hard to act like you were in the presence of a regular person.

The team stand from their seats fairly quickly, accepting the concept of a drunken Jack the Ripper tour. Despite the lack of alcohol in his system Spencer’s got a massive grin on his face, and practically shaking with excitement.

Dragging them out into the chilly London air you stop suddenly, gasping.

“We should get alcohol, to-go!” You turn to face the team, your eyes wide with a sense of wonder at your marvellous idea. Only being egged on by Garcia, Morgan, and JJ who cheer loudly at your proposition.

“Isn’t that just a liquor store?” Spencer’s brow is furrowed in confusion, trying to work out what alcohol to-go was, and he wasn’t too far off.

“…and a bad idea?” Rossi follows, pointing an accusing finger towards you.

“…and illegal?” Hotch follows Rossi with a chuckle.

“No, it’s actually perfectly legal here, and liquor stores are expensive, we’re going to Tesco.” You clap your hands jumping on the spot excitedly, before making a beeline for the Tube station.

Whitechapel was shockingly quiet, for this time of night with only the distant humming of the main roads to remind you that you were in fact in one of Europe’s busiest cities.

You and the rest of the BAU team ambled through the narrow alleyways that once housed one of the world’s most prolific serial killers, Spencer occasionally pointing to various street-corners and naming one of his five canonical victims.

“You know, In the Victorian era the basal population of Whitechapel was swelled by immigrants from all over, particularly Irish and Jewish. This poverty drove many women to prostitution; The victim-pool of Jack the Ripper.” You turn to Spencer who’s walking closely by your side, something he had obscurely insisted on.

“Yeah, In October of 1888 the Metropolitan Police estimated that there were 1,200 prostitutes ‘of very low class living in Whitechapel and about 62 brothels.” You pipe up, a smug grin settling on your face as you gaze at Spencer, eyes narrowed.

“I know my facts doctor.” You slur. Spencer laughs, reaching out for the bottle of sweet beer in your hand, removing it from your grasp, as you gasp, attempting to grab back the bottle that he holds high over his head.

“Hey!” You pout as Spencer tosses the bottle into a nearby bin. You are quickly distracted by the way your trip over your own feet.

“Woah, woah! Confiscating the alcohol was a good move on my part.” Spencer mumbles as he grasps your shoulders, steadying you on the pavement. You both stop, turning to see Derek stood with Garcia, staring right at you and Spencer, a glimmer in his eye.

You look past him to see Hotch, Rossi, and JJ slowly walking towards you both. Hotch and Rossi had drunk nothing since the bar and were both practically sober. They had allowed you, JJ, and Garcia to drink despite their apprehensions, and likely remained sober to ensure you were safe. Derek had managed to leave the bar with his pint of beer, still clutching the empty glass.

You yawn slightly, swaying on your heels as you turn to the team. Furrowing your brows as you lean back against Spencer who stumbles slightly in surprise.

Your mind is foggy, but not foggy enough to ignore the impending hangover that would undoubtedly kick your ass the next morning.

“I should go home now.” You finally feel the fogginess settling in your brain, like a sickly-sweet haze. But alas, you were running out of energy. You missed Hotch’s stern look.

“You’re staying at the hotel with one of us, we can’t let you go home alone.” You roll your eyes slightly at the solemn male.

“No thanks dad! I’m excellent at navigating my way home.” You chuckle, at your own joke, JJ and Garcia joining in a drunken chorus.

“Y/N, you’re drunk, and it’s dangerous out here.” Spencer chimes, in. His arms are still holding tightly on your shoulders as you drunkenly giggle. Your forehead rests on his shoulder as you teeter on your heels.

“Fine.” You take the arm that Spencer offers you, watching as Hotch and Morgan do the same for JJ and Garcia, Rossi walking closely behind you. You were by far the most drunk, and the most likely to faceplant against concrete.

“Who wants her? Because I really don’t mind.” Derek points his finger, raising his eyebrows at Y/N as she sits on the floor of the hotel corridor. Her fingers trace the patterns on the carpet, as she hums along to a non-existent song.

The team let out a collective sigh at Derek’s implication.

The world is fairly fuzzy to Y/N, and she has resorted to paying absolutely no attention to what was going on around her, hyper-focusing on anything that would appeal to her senses. She knew that she would regret drinking in the morning.

“Fine! Personally, I feel as if Spencer should do it.” Derek nudges the lanky genius, who simply rolls his eyes, his cheeks dusting a light shade of pink.

“That’s a point, two of us have two beds in our rooms. That’s Spencer and Derek.” Rossi quips, turning to face the two men who now stood, eyes widened.

“For Y/N’s sake, I think we veer away from Morgan as a candidate.” Hotch says, a slight smile on his face as JJ and Garcia burst into a fit of giggles, leaning against one another.

“You’re up Spence-“ JJ smiles, as Hotch and Derek reach out for both her and Garcia, ushering then towards their respective rooms. Spencer watches as Rossi, offers him a humorous salute before he turns, walking down the corridor.

“Okay, Y/N.” Spencer tries to keep his voice down, so he doesn’t disturb other patrons of the hotel. He helps Y/N to her feet, cautiously gripping onto her as she sways into his chest.

“How are you so smart?” She practically whispers as Spencer guides her towards his room, scanning the key card.

“I’m not sure, perhaps it was good genetics?” Spencer quips, pushing her through the hotel room door, watching as she gasps, making a beeline for the empty bed. He can’t help but chuckle as she dramatically flops onto the bed, splaying her arms out wide across the plush surface.

“You know, twin studies of adults have found a heritability of IQ between 57% and 73%, with the most recent studies showing heritability for IQ as high as 80%.” Her words are slurred, but her facts are correct which makes Spencer smile.

“Did you have smart parents?” She props her body up on her elbows, connecting her gaze with Spencer who digs through his suitcases, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Spencer’s head snaps up at the question as he offers her a solemn smile.

“I guess you could say that. What about you, were your parents smart?” She giggles slightly resting her back on the bed as Spencer walks towards her, fiddling with the straps of her heels in an attempt to undo them.

“My dad is really intelligent academically, and my mother was amazing at the arts and music. I got a combination of both I guess.” Y/N smiles to herself, allowing Spencer to take her uncomfortable shoes off, her mind distracted by the thoughts of her parents.

“You know, I never really considered myself smart.” She practically whispers, sitting back up as Spencer removes her first shoe, she reaches forwards, helping him remove her second.

“Why not? You’re a doctor.” She shrugs laughing lightly at Spencer’s straightforwardness.

“I never found school academically difficult in hindsight. I struggled to understand that it wasn’t the work that was difficult, it was all the social-emotional stuff. At that point, to me, school was just difficult.” Spencer nods, offering her a reassuring smile as he passes Y/N a pile of clothes.

“You can have these, or if you’d rather sleep in the dress, it’s up to you.” Y/N smiles, grabbing the sweatpants and shuffling them on underneath her dress, Spencer had turned away and was now fiddling with an Ice bucket.

“Y/N, I’m going to go get ice, I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” She nods, watching him walk out the door as Y/N unzips the dress fully, pulling Spencer’s clothes over herself as best she could in her sluggish state.

The sweatshirt was massive on her, the sleeves covered her hands, but the sweatpants were a different story. Spencer was practically a whole foot taller than she was and that left the bottom of the trousers to bunch up around her ankles.

She quickly rolled the cuffs of the sweatpants up to a reasonable length, before collapsing back onto the surface of the bed. Inhaling the scent of his clothes she groaned, the alcohol was surely leaving her system, but left in its wake, a pounding headache.

So much so that she didn’t notice the sound of the door opening.

“Ah yes, is the hangover setting in?” Y/N whimpers slightly at the unnecessary noise, rolling over in the bed, onto her stomach. Smashing her head against the pillow.

She feels a meek tap on her shoulder, and turns to see Spencer kneeling beside the bed, his hand outstretched, two pills in his palm.

“Take these, so you don’t wake up in the middle of the night.” Y/N groans, rolling back over in the bed, sitting upright. Spencer’s hand steadies her shoulder as she gratefully takes the pills with a glass of water she had clearly placed on the bedside table.

“Okay, good. Now, get some rest.” Spencer pulls up the sheets allowing her to climb under them. Y/N’s eyes stay closed as she listens to Spencer shuffling around the room and entering the bathroom before the room goes silent. And with the silence she slips into sleep.

You walk the short distance from the hotel foyer to the entrance of the Underground station. JJ and Garcia trail behind you whist Spencer, ever eager, walks by your side. Spencer is bright and awake, as his gaze takes in what seems to be every little detail of the street, meanwhile you are simply glad you took painkillers.

You were also down a few team members. Turns out that Derek had managed to get a girl’s number from the bar, leaving him unavailable. Meanwhile, Hotch and Rossi preferred a ‘quiet morning.’ You would meet up with them later.

“Wait, this is Aldgate Station?!” Your gaze trails along the bright red lettering marking the entrance of the station. Spencer, JJ, and Garcia laugh at your dramatic halt. Quickly you do a one-eighty, turning and walking away from the station entrance, realising that you had an interesting place in mind.

“Did you know that over 1,000 bodies lie beneath this station, which is built over a plague pit from 1665.” You can’t help but laugh at Spencer’s fact as you turn to face him, walking backwards and trusting the oncoming pedestrian traffic to dodge you.

“Interesting, but the place I have in mind for you may be the sight of even more horror, beginning with the fact that we are walking.” Your gaze fixates on Jennifer who sighs dramatically, but Garcia simply hums, shrugging her shoulders.

You can tell that JJ is hung over, a pair of dark sunglasses are sat on the bridge of her nose, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail. She seems content however, the pain likely avoided with a healthy dose of paracetamol.

Garcia, on the other hand is awake and bubbly as ever. She also dons her sunglasses, but you wouldn’t know she was hungover. Her flamboyant outfit radiates a happy energy, that seemingly rubs off on you.

The sound of traffic fills your ears as you bustle past various other pedestrians trying to go about their regular lives. Slowly but surely, you guide the team down streets, alleyways, and pedestrian walkways that you begin to recognise.

“You know, sometimes I shock myself with my ability to navigate this city.” You smile to yourself as you see a familiar structure off in the distance.

“There’s nothing of significance here Y/N.” You can’t help but furrow your brow at Spencer’s quip, he was wrong.

“Spencer, how many times in your life have you been wrong?” You watch as Spencer’s cheeks turn pink, him shrugging his shoulders.

“Well, I suggest you add one more to your tally, because if you are patient, you will see that there is in fact something significant in the distance.” This causes Garcia and JJ to laugh. He follows your instructions, and you watch as his eyes widen, before turning back to you, a grin crossing his previously embarrassed features.

“Oh my god! It’s a castle in a city. Is that where the Queen lives?” Garcia’s voice interrupts the comfortable silence. Her voice is high pitched, laced with a sense of extreme excitement.

“Originally, it was built by William the Conqueror to be a residence for the royal family, and a fortress. But they soon discovered that it was as good at keeping people in as it was out.” Spencer’s hands flail about wildly and you can’t help but smile at the excitement plastered across his face, your hangover was long forgotten.

“Officially it’s called Her Majesty’s Royal Palace and Fortress, The Tower of London.” Spencer finds himself impressed, as you smile brightly, eyes fixated on the tower that was coming closer into view.

You walk along the perimeter of the grounds, towards the visitor centre watching as your three tourists gaze in wonder across the lawn towards the large medieval building.

“Only 22 executions have ever taken place inside the Tower of London. They include the two famed executions of Henry VIII’s wives, Anne Boleyn, and Katherine Howard.” You guide the team towards the visitor centre, watching as all the crowds ahead of you gather.

You walk towards the turnstiles that provide entry to the castle, spotting a beefeater watching over the people entering into the tower grounds.

You slowly walk towards the male, pulling a slip of paper out of your pocket. As you hand him the paper to read, he simply nods, allowing JJ, Spencer, Garcia, and yourself through, politely thanking you all for your service.

“-For our service?” Garcia pipes up as you walk towards the tower gateway, a look of confusion plastered across her joyful features.

“Yeah, uhm, I spoke to a few people.” You state simply, not really wanting to draw out what may create too much of a scene. Garcia certainly struck you as the dramatic type.

“What kind of people?” JJ pulls a strand of hair behind her ear, peering over her sunglasses at you. You can feel Spencer and Garcia’s eyes boring into you with curiosity.

“Well, The Tower of London is owned by Her Majesty the Queen, so-“ Your gaze falls on Spencer who’s face twists into an almost smug look as his brain begins to put the pieces together.

“You asked-“ He begins.

“No, no- well, I mean… She offered?” You chuckle, trying to hide your flustered sate as a look of shock crossed Garcia’s face.

“The-the Queen?!” You can’t help but laugh at her reaction. Both Spencer and JJ join her, eyes widened with shock.

Before you have a moment to think, Garcia walks straight towards you, engulfing you in a surprising hug. You can’t help but tense in surprise.

“The Queen knows we exist?!” She whispers into your ear, allowing Spencer to pry her off you. You simply nod, humming in response.

Slowly, you begin to make your way around the walls of the ancient fortress. From the tower above Traitor’s Gate, you had an excellent view across the Thames, of Bloody Tower, and the impressive White Tower behind you, housing the notorious Crown Jewels.

“I always found this part of the castle to be so weird.” You can’t tell if you are talking to yourself or the rest of the team, but Spencer makes his way towards you, his gaze curiously set on you.

You turn towards him, watching as Garcia and JJ excitedly stand on the other side of the wall, inspecting the expansive gardens where twenty-two whole lives had been taken.

“How so?” Spencer says quietly as you fix your gaze back on him.

“So many doomed people made their final journey by boat beneath our feet. They wouldn’t even had known at that point if they were sentenced to death or not.” You sigh, turning your gaze to the ground staring at your feet.

“You know, they had a way of communicating their fate right in front of them without even knowing.” Spencer nods, urging you to continue.

“The jailor would be abord the boat to transport them through the gate and he would carry an axe. If the axe was facing forwards, they were lucky, and if the axe was facing backwards… well-“ You watch Spencer’s brows pinch together as he nods in understanding.

“…People spent the worst days of their lives here.” Spencer murmured as you simply nodded, allowing your gaze to trail onto JJ and Garcia who were taking photos.

“-And the best.” You smile, nodding towards JJ and Garcia as Spencer hums in agreement, a small smile on his face.

“Are those men actually called beefeaters?” You smile at Garcia’s question, turning to Spencer as he interrupts.

“From what I gather, it’s a sort of slang name for what are officially Yeoman Warders of the tower.” Garcia nods as Spencer offers a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh, we should do one of their tours!” JJ exclaims, pointing at a group crowding around for a tour due to start in just under 5 minutes.

“If you want- but those guys will slam you if they find out your American.” You smile, dragging the three agents towards the crowd, as confused looks crossed their face.

And boy, were you right.

The harsh, night air nipped at your skin, goosebumps crawling across your exposed skin, your dress from the previous night turned out to be a rather weather-inappropriate outfit. After The Tower of London, the heavens opened in a torrential downpour that caused our small group to sprint to a local bookstore café, where the missing team members caught up with you for lunch.

You spent around three hours in the quaint café, both you and Spencer eyeing up the large bookshelves lined with various graphic covers as the rest of the team talked. They truly were a nice group, and you were glad you had the opportunity to work with them. But it hurt to think that you may never see them again.

But alas, they tided you over by regaling tales of sadistic killers, and various – and frankly, hilarious – anecdotes from their time together. You could tell they truly were a family, especially since they didn’t fail to mention the fact their job is so demanding that they practically live in the FBI Academy together.

“You know, law enforcement was always a job that interested me. I just wish that I could see a case through, you know; studying the bodies is fairly detached.” You chuckled, placing your glass to your lips, and taking a sip.

“You want to chase Unsubs?” Derek turned to you, a smile on his face.

“I guess so, I always enjoyed travelling for specialty help, I was a bit more involved in solving cases then. I just feel so helpless once all evidence is processed, I must wait and hope that the police can work it out themselves.” You smile, reaching your arm out to fiddle with the napkin in front of you.

“Y/N?” The sound of a voice pulls you out of your dissociative reverie, pulling you back into the here and now, where the team all gathered in front of you.

“Thank you for everything Y/N.” You smile at Rossi, gasping as Garcia pulls you into another surprise hug. The end of her blonde hair tickles your nose as you let out a small chuckle.

“I will miss you Garcia- I will miss all of you.” You whisper as Garcia pulls back and you acquaint your gaze with the hardened concrete below your feet. Trying to hide the embarrassment you felt for becoming so attached to the people in front of you in such a short time.

“You don’t fancy a trip to America, do you?” Derek chuckles, nudging your side with his elbow, you lift your hands to cover your mouth as you laugh. Your gaze fixating on Derek as he offers you a wide grin.

“I could do with a holiday-“ You smile shaking your head.

“-but I’m not so sure my boss would like it.” You watch as the team chuckle to themselves, their gazes flicking between each other as they slowly realised, they would be leaving very soon.

Hotch stands, deep in thought as the team gather together, Y/N included, on the runway. He couldn’t help but notice how well Y/N functioned with the team, and how quickly they were able to solve an extremely complicated case with her expertise.

A notification snaps him out of his daze, gazing down at his phone he sees a reminder popping up, telling him that the jet leaves in 15 minutes and that they should all be ready to board.

“Guys-“ He breaks the giggles and chatter between his teammates, watching Y/N’s expression falter at the implication of his words. He knew she had bonded well with the team in the short space of time, and he knew that the team would miss her also.

“-you should say your goodbyes, we have to be on the jet in five for take-off in fifteen. I’ll be back in a minute.” Hotch disappears onto the jet as Garcia sucks in a breath, her eyes saddening as they land on Y/N. A soft smile rests on her face.

“It’s been a pleasure working with you all. I had heard so much about you guys-“ Y/N chuckles, her cheeks heating up as she turns her gaze to the ground scuffing her feet on the concrete.

“-you certainly -uhm- lived up to those expectations ten-fold. This wouldn’t have been solved without you guys.” Y/N’s gaze scans over the group, lingering on Spencer, who gives her a soft smile, his cheeks reddening.

Rossi was the first to step forward, offering Y/N a silent pat on her shoulder, before walking towards the jet, and disappearing inside.

JJ and Garcia stood forward together, opening out their arms as they engulfed Y/N in a group hug. The whispers of thanks making the other members of the team smile at the sight. But soon they disappeared into the comfort of the jet.

“Stay safe, okay?” Was the simple sentiment Morgan left Y/N with his gaze switching between her and Spencer suggestively, an expression they both missed.

Finally, Spencer steps forward his eyes stuck on the ground as he fails to meet Y/N’s gaze.

The pair both remain silent, gazes alternating between each other and the ground as they both relish in the awkwardness of not knowing what to say.

“I enjoyed having someone smart to relate to.” He practically whispers as Y/N let’s out an embarrassed chuckle.

“Don’t be mean to your teammates, you’re a bright bunch.” The quip makes Spencer laugh shyly, as he raises his gaze to Y/N who stands in front of him.

“You’re a brilliant mind.” Spencer’s voice is practically a whisper as he takes a small step forward, outstretching his hand to Y/N. She gladly takes it and shakes it with a chuckle.

“Hey Reid, I thought you said it was safer to kiss?!” The pair jump at the sound of a voice coming from the small jet. Turning they see Derek stood at the top of the steps, a smug grin on his face.

Hotch walks past him, making his way towards the now extremely embarrassed, frozen pair of doctors. Spencer quickly offers Y/N a small smile before dropping your hand.

Y/N turns her focus to Hotch. He stops in front of her.

“Dr. L/N, we’re running late, but I just wanted to let you know that I will be in touch over the next couple of weeks, as regards the case.” Y/N nods, immediately going into business mode, she straightens up.

“That’s absolutely no problem, I will forward you any of the paperwork on our end for reference.”

“That would be great. Excellent work doctor. As I said, I’ll be in touch.”

And with that, they were gone.

Story Masterlist - (1) -

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut

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armoredsuperheavy · 2 days ago

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The Complete Raffles, Annotated (Rebind)

Who is Raffles?

Written by E. W. Hornung, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's brother-in-law, dedicated to ACD, and inspired by the Sherlock Holmes stories, but starring A.J. Raffles, a gentleman of leisure and recreational crime rather than a detective. Accompanied by his admiring friend and narrator, nicknamed "Bunny", mischief is afoot.

It's very shippable, and if you have an interest in historical fiction, Edwardian London, or are a Holmes/Watson fan, you owe it to yourself to check it out.

The Annotated Version

I originally found the annotated stories on the Raffles Redux website and was struck how complete and informative the annotations assembled by Sarah Morrissey and Genevieve L. Morrissey were. In addition to explaining many obscure things the modern reader would otherwise have completely missed, they also collected profuse illustrations from past editions.

I was dismayed that this great addition to the original, public domain Raffles tales was only available (at the time) in this ephemeral form. My reading was greatly enhanced by all these insights into the period and places of the stories. When I recently discovered it was available in an Amazon print on demand edition I immediately bought it.

What a bittersweet experience it was to have the text! Yes! YES! The text is out! In a nice big block with breathing room for the annotations and a handsome typeset at that! What a thoughtful design, but what else should I have expected, considering how well done the annotations were?!

But what was bitter, you ask? Well, that cheap thin cardstock cover, which immediately curled up like Hokusai's Great Wave after I perused 3 pages of the first story. This was infuriating. This book deserves so much better. But! We have the means of production. I couldn't do anything about the "perfect-bound" spine, but i could definitely fix this woefully inadequate cover.

Views of the text, annotations, illustrations.

Let's Rectify This Injustice

I sliced the covers off and removed as much paper from the spine as possible. Scrounged out a moderately "old timey" sheet big enough for endpapers, cut and attached them. Glued mull and an Oxford hollow type kraft paper tube on this bad boy. And then built a case, using the remainder of the endpapers sheet to stretch the book cloth supply.

Then, fortuitously, from the discarded flimsy cover, I was able to salvage the JC Leyendecker portrait of Raffles. This piece was originally done for Collier's magazine, and oozing "late Edwardian cruising". Brother can you spare a light? JCL was a magician.

A sleep overnight in the press and now the complete annotated Raffles (x Bunny of course) finally has the proper treatment, complete with that exquisite side eye right where it deserves to be.

I am Back (ElmoFire.gif)

This is my first finished book project in 4 years. It felt great to get back into it.

I'm finishing up a number of Dead Dove Publishing projects that were partially done when I ground to a halt in summer of 2020. Wish me luck and stay tuned for more...

ArmoredSuperHeavy, 25 Dec 2024

Fanbinding project #162

#bookbinding #fanbinding #rebinding #raffles #fandom #sherlock holmes #aj raffles

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internationalremovals23 · 22 days ago

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The process of organizing and carrying out a move might be intimidating, but moving to a new apartment in London is an exciting chapter. There are many factors to take into account, from packing your possessions to negotiating congested streets. You could believe that moving from a small apartment will be easier, but even smaller quarters provide special difficulties. Whether you're moving across the city or to a local neighborhood, here's how to organize your move effectively.

#Compare Removal Companies #Cheap Removal in London #House movers in London #House removal companies in London #Storage Services London

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mtcremovalsposts · 6 months ago

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#London removal pricing #removal costs London #affordable removals London #removal service prices London #cheap removals London #removal quotes London #London moving costs #moving prices London #removals price list London #London removals rates #budget removals London #cost of removals London #removal company pricing London #London house removal costs #office removal prices London

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inevitably-johnlocked · 15 days ago

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Five Fics Friday: December 13/24

Happy Friday the 13th everyone! Let's get into the long weekend with five more fics that have been put on my radar this week! I hope you have a gay old time!! :D

RECENT MFLs

A Magical Holiday by PipMer (T, 1,107+ w., 1/2 Ch. || WiP || Established Relationship, Fluff, POV Sherlock, Johnlock on Holiday, Magical Realism, Christmas) – He had wanted to wait until after the new year, but it seemed that John needed some kind of pick me up to get him through his first Rosie-less Christmas. Maybe a get-away was just the thing. Not an exotic, far-away place, but just far enough removed to escape the melancholy and focus on fresh surroundings. And he could kill two birds with one stone in the process. Yes. Good. He would do this.

Every Song Reminds Me of You by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (G, 1,157 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, John's an Idiot, Posh Sherlock) – Music hath charms to help John acknowledge his feelings for Sherlock.

Polychromatic Wrapping by Lock_John_Silver (M, 6,187+ w., 12/31 Ch. || WiP || Alternating POV, Established Relationship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Childhood Memories, Domestic Fluff, Tumblr Prompts, Kissing, Minor Illnesses, Sherlock's Mind Palace, Christmas Presents, Rimming, John's Red Pants, Grumpy John, Cooking, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Traditions, Caring Sherlock, John in a Kilt, New Year's Kiss, Celebrations, Travelling, Switzerland, Blow Jobs, Alcohol, Making Up) – Sherlock tells John about a challenge he and Mycroft participated in when they were children, initiated by their mathematician mother. (NOTE!! WiP updating daily in December 2024)

Looking Up by StarlightAndFireflies (T, 11,704+ w., 3/4 Ch. || WiP || Alternate First Meeting / Neighbours AU || Single Father John, Domesticity, Falling in Love, Mental Health Issues, Crime Fighting, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content) – When John Watson, single father to toddler Rosie, finds a cheap flat for rent in central London, he's sure there must be a catch. He can't afford to be picky, though, and so he moves in... only to discover that his upstairs neighbor is far more unconventional than he bargained for. But this strange man might just be the fresh start John needs. AU in which Sherlock and John meet when John moves into 221c.

Murder in Sussex Trilogy by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (T, 78,331 w. across 3 works || 1920s AU, Case Fics, Surprise Ending, Alternating POVs, Humour) – Can you follow the clues to deduce whodunnit?

#johnlock fic recs #five fics friday #my fic recs

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manandvanstar1 · 10 months ago

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Man and Van Services in London: Simplifying Your Moving Experience

Moving to a new home or office in London can be both exciting and daunting. From packing up belongings to arranging transportation, the process often entails numerous logistical challenges. However, with the assistance of reliable man and van services, such as Man and Van Star, the transition becomes notably smoother and more manageable.

What Sets Man and Van Star Apart?

Man and Van Star stands out among other moving services in London due to its commitment to professionalism, efficiency, and customer satisfaction. With years of experience in the industry, their team understands the unique needs and challenges associated with moving in a bustling metropolis like London. Whether you're relocating to a new apartment, house, or office, Man and Van Star offers tailored solutions to meet your specific requirements.

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Man and Van Star offers a comprehensive range of services designed to streamline the moving process from start to finish. These services include:

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Customer-Focused Approach

At Man and Van Star, customer satisfaction is paramount. From your initial inquiry to the completion of your move, their friendly and professional team is dedicated to providing exceptional service and support. They understand that every move is unique, and they strive to accommodate your specific needs and preferences every step of the way.

Competitive Pricing

Despite offering top-notch service, Man and Van Star remains committed to affordability. They understand that moving expenses can add up quickly, and they strive to offer competitive pricing without compromising on quality or reliability. With transparent pricing and no hidden fees, you can trust Man and Van Star to deliver value for your money.

Conclusion

If you're planning a move in London and seeking a reliable and efficient partner to assist you every step of the way, look no further than Man and Van Star. With their comprehensive services, customer-focused approach, and competitive pricing, they are the go-to choice for hassle-free moving experiences in the bustling capital city. Trust Man and Van Star to turn your relocation into a seamless and stress-free journey.

#a man with a van london #hire man with van london #london van and man #hire van and man london #man with a van london cheap #north london removal companies

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httplilyyy · 2 years ago

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𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 || 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐇 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍

pairing: leah williamson x reader

request: ‘hope you’re doing well! i just want to say that i absolutely love your fics and when i saw that your requests were open again i almost screamed bc i have been holding onto this idea just for you. i actually saw this idea on my college love letters instagram page that said “if we're both single by a certain age we will marry each other" is always a fun story concept but it could be even better if the pact is made between rivals (r x leah) as a drunken dare and they go on to sabotage each other's relationships because they've been secretly in love all along.’

summary: you hated each other, right? so why the hell do you want to kiss her?

warnings: swearing (that’s pretty much it)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: i’m alive mfs, i kinda changed the request a little but i hope that’s alright. let’s also ignore the fact that this is my first post of 2023 and it’s march also a huge thank you for 850 followers :)

woso masterlist

Your fingers tapped absentmindedly on the glass in your hand. The smell of cheap booze and sweat lingered in the air. Watching as drunken bodies swarmed the dance floor, you leaned your back against the bar.

You don't know how many drinks you’ve had, you didn’t know what was going on, who you were with or where you were. But what you did know was how much you hated her.

You swirled the straw in your glass, watching on as, out of all the clubs in London, she happened to be in the same one as you.

No matter how drunk or sober you were, you always found something in you to dislike every little thing about her.

Whilst some people would call you petty and childish, they didn't know how the feeling was reciprocated.

From the moment you joined Arsenal one thing was made clear. Leah Williamson did not like you. Whatever you did, good or bad, Leah always found something to make her dislike for you more prominent.

At first it was little comments here and there, out of shot from your teammates but it soon escalated into making it her personal mission and life goal to hate you in front of anyone at any time and at any place.

No matter what you did you could never get Leah to like you, so, if you can't beat them, join them.

Every comment leah made, you retaliated and leah didn't like it. Not one bit.

“Of course you're here.” Leah sighed as she stood beside you, ordering herself another drink.

You didnt turn to look at her, your focus still lingering on everyone else. Breathing through your nose, you gave a disgruntled hum with a small nod of your head.

“Not in the talkative mood tonight, y/n?” Leah questioned, a teasing undertone to her voice as she cocked her head to the side, looking at your side profile.

“Nope.” You replied, popping the ‘p’.

“That's unlike you.” Leah said. “Normally you’re going on and on about how much you hate me.”

“Mhm, maybe I've run out of energy.” You shrugged your shoulders, finally turning your head to look at her.

“Woah, who are you and what have you done to y/n?” Leah chuckled, the alcohol definitely present in her system.

“Very funny, good night Leah.” You said, your voice holding little emotion; sounding somewhat like a robot.

You placed your drink onto the bar counter and walked away from the defender; whose eyes stared at your back curiously.

Just as you were about to make your way out of the club, you felt a cold hand grab onto your arm. Turning around, you were met with a, now very noticeable, drunk Leah.

Sighing to yourself, your head dropped to the floor as you tried to regain any type of courage.

“And where do you think you’re going y/l/n?” Leah questioned, her voice coming out slurred.

“Home.” You deadpanned, removing Leah’s hand from your arm.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Leah pondered, eyebrows furrowing.

“A lot actually, I'll be away from you.” You said, giving a sarcastic smile before walking away again.

“Hey! Wait, one dance.” Leah shouted, catching up to you.

“I’m sorry?” You questioned incredulously, turning around to look back at Leah.

“One dance,” Leah pleaded, “and then you can go.”

“No?” You said, chuckling to yourself at how drunk Leah was.

“Come on. Stop being a party pooper.” Leah said, pulling on your arm and the two of you slowly made your way to the dance floor.

“Fine. One dance,” you huffed, giving in, “but that's it.”

A beaming smile took over Leah’s face as she dragged you in between all the bodies that littered the dance floor, planting the two of you right in the middle.

“Kill me now.” You muttered to yourself, standing as stiff as a board, freezing even more when Leah took a hold of your hands and placed them onto her waist.

“Let loose y/l/n.” Leah whispered into your ear before she turned around and started to dance.

Loud music drowned out your thoughts allowing you to forget about everything going on around you.

For a moment you forgot who you were with, what you were doing and where you were, allowing your mind to go somewhere else.

One dance seemed to turn into four and before you knew it you had been dancing with Leah for minutes on end.

Just as you were about to get lost in another dance, a body crashed into yours from behind, snapping you from whatever trace you were currently kept in.

Finally snapping back to your senses, you pulled your hands away from Leah and made your way out of the club, not uttering a single word to the blonde defender rushing behind you.

Letting out an exhale of air once you walked outside you rummaged around in your pockets for your phone only to come up short til you heard your name from over your shoulder.

“Looking for something?” Leah questioned as she walked towards you, your phone in hand.

“How did you get my phone?” You wondered as you tried to reach for your phone but Leah moved it out of your reach.

“That's for me to know and for you to find out.” Leah chuckled as she tapped your phone on your chest.

“Look leah,” you sighed exasperatedly, “just give me my phone, I need to call an uber.”

“How about I propose a deal?”

“I- yeah fine, whatever just give me my phone.” You said, throwing your hands up in the air as your patience grew very thin.

“Let's say I give you back your phone only if you agree to us getting married by a certain age- if we are single of course.”

“No chance.” You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief at the words that just came out of Leah's mouth.

“Fine, I get to keep your phone then.” Leah said, shrugging her shoulders before walking away and down the road.

“Fuck my life.” You muttered, looking up into the sky as your shoulders sagged.

You took one cleansing breath in before shaking your head and running to catch up with a certain blonde defender.

“I’ll do it.” You said, finally catching up to Leah, walking beside her.

“Finally came to your senses have you?” Leah questioned, the teasing tone coming back in full force.

“Don’t. I can't believe I agreed,” you sighed, “can I have my phone back now?”

“One more thing-”

“Oh what now?”

“You give me a ride home too.”

“Yeah, fine, okay.”

After you booked an uber, the two of you waited on the side of the road. You would occasionally turn your head to look at the blonde beside you, noticing that she hugged herself, shivering from the cold.

“Here.” You muttered, handing your jacket in front of Leah.

She looked at you confused for a second, before she gingerly reached her hand out and took the clothing from your hand.

A small ‘thank you’ fell from her lips as she slipped your jacket on, unconsciously pulling the material up to her nose, taking in your perfume that lingered on it.

The two of you didn't have to wait much longer and before you knew it, you were holding a car door open for Leah, letting her get into the uber before you.

The journey to Leah’s was short and the two of you were soon pulling up outside her place.

“Walk me to my door?” Leah asked, a small smile gracing her lips.

“I might as well, huh?” You replied, rolling your eyes although there was no malicious intent behind the action.

Promising the driver you would only be a couple of minutes, you exited the car and walked around to Leah’s side before opening her door. You held out your hand and she graciously took it in hers, pulling herself up and out of the car.

Shutting the door behind her, you walked her up to her front door where you stopped and waited for the blonde to open it.

After a little struggle, Leah managed to get her door open and she stepped into her place, turning around, one hand on the door the other fiddling with her keys.

“You’re a real piece of work, y’know.” You smiled, shaking your head.

“You love me though.” Leah joked, looking at her feet.

“In your dreams,” you laughed, “make sure you have some water and paracetamol in the morning.”

“Awh, you care about me.”

“Piss off, I'm going to be best friends with your hangover in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah, goodbye y/l/n.” Leah smiled.

“Night.” You said, replying with a similar smile.

Just as you were about to back away from Leah’s doorstep her cold hand grasped your arm again for the second time that night. Stopping in your tracks, eyebrows raised, you wondered what Leah was going to say.

She looked a little conflicted, not knowing what to say so she didn’t say anything, giving you a little peck on your cheek before pulling away and walking back into her place with a smile not leaving her face.

Your eyebrows rose even higher than they were before and you let out a breathy chuckle before making your way back to the uber and back to your place.

The next morning you had training, begrudgingly getting out of bed, you got ready for the day. The journey wasn’t bad, although you felt a headache creeping its way into your head.

Suddenly, you regretted the amount of alcohol you consumed yesterday. You don't remember much from last night, only a few things here and there albeit they were still a little fuzzy.

You soon met up with the other girls and conversed as you walked onto the pitch. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a certain defender who looked like they had been to hell and back.

Letting out a quiet snicker, you walked past her shaking your head with a smile. Leah noticed and sent a sneer your way, not that you cared and that only aggravated her more.

Time went by quickly and before you knew it training had finished. You were walking back to your car when Katie came running up to you.

“Hey y/n!” Katie shouted, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“What's up?” You smiled, turning around to face her.

“Me and a couple of the girls are going bowling later and we wondered if you wanted to come?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s not like I've got anything else to do.” You shrugged.

“Cool, I'll send you the address.”

“Yeah, no problem, see you later.”

It was around six in the afternoon when you pulled your car up to the bowling alley. Getting out of your car you slid your phone into your pocket before walking into the place. You knew immediately where to go from the loud noise coming from a particular group.

Sending them a smile you walked up to them but it soon dropped, not enough for anyone to notice, but it was safe to say you didn't think you were going to enjoy tonight.

Standing next to Beth, Leah was typing away on her phone. Once the blonde looked up from her phone she sent you a look which can only be described as unfriendly. To everyone else, however, they seemed to miss the way the two of you interacted and put you both into a pair.

It was you and Leah, Manu and Viv, Beth and Katie, Lotte and Steph as well as Rafa and Jen. You had very low hopes and you had a strong feeling that instead of hitting the pins Leah may end up hitting you.

Beth and Katie were to go first and it was safe to say that you didn't think they were going to win. Whilst you watched as everyone took their turns you were sat beside Leah. the two of you sitting like statues.

You thought it was because of the hatred Leah had towards you but it was completely the opposite. All the defender could think about was last night, when she kissed you on the cheek.

She didn't know why she did it but it felt right. But she knew it shouldn't have. The fact that it was so wrong was why it felt so right. Leah knew she shouldn't be feeling the way she is but she couldn't help it.

The only reason why Leah acted like she hated you was because she was afraid of getting hurt. Before she could do anything about it she was already too far down the rabbit hole for her to get out.

Leah just had to accept the fact that you’d never like her the way she liked you, and she was fine with having you in her life as an ‘enemy’ rather than not having you in her life at all.

Whilst Leah was so caught up in her own thoughts she missed the way that you looked at her. Like she was the only person in the world. Although you wouldn't tell her that.

The two of you were pining over each other and the only thing stopping you both from telling your true feelings is the fake hatred you had created.

As time went on and as the little arguments grew and grew they turned into true feelings but you never really did hate her. You were using it as a defence system, afraid of getting hurt.

The two of you were so afraid of getting hurt you didnt realise it was already too painful for you both. Too painful to realise you could be together if you weren't stupid. Too painful to realise you were falling and you were falling hard.

It was finally your turn and you stood up, grabbing a bowling ball. You looked back at Leah, searching for any kind of encouragement from her but she was too focused on the floor.

Sighing to yourself quietly, you took a quick cleansing breath and acted as if it was a match final, and you were going to win.

With your first bowl of the evening you managed to get a strike causing an uproar from the girls, snapping Leah from whatever state she was in.

Turning her head towards the noise she noticed you had put the two of you in the lead and she let out a small smile, watching on as you dodged the playful insults being thrown in your way as you sat back beside Leah.

“Guess I won't have a go this round, huh?” Leah said, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, my bad.” You replied, scratching the back of your neck.

“We’re winning, it doesn't matter.” Leah shrugged, turning to watch Manu as she bowled.

“Yeah.” You whispered, trying to fight off the smile that slowly crept onto your face.

It was the fifth round when everyone started to get hungry so you volunteered to go and get some food. After asking what everyone wanted you set off to the little snack bar.

“Hey.” You said, walking up to the bar.

“Hey, what can I get for you?” The lady asked, standing behind the counter. You weren't going to lie, she was beautiful but she didn’t come anywhere near to Leah

You told her what everyone had ordered and she left you to get all your food. As you waited you drummed your fingers on the counter. She was back before you knew it and handed you your food.

“Hopefully that's not all for you.” She chuckled, nodding to the food stacked in your arms.

“I don’t think I'll even get what is mine with how hungry my friends always are.” You replied with a chuckle of your own.

“Well, you're always welcome to come back.”

“Now, is that a marketing line or an excuse to see me again?” You questioned with a raise of your eyebrow.

“Depends on your answer.” She responded.

“I guess you’ll have to find out later.” You smiled, looking back at your friends who were waving you over.

“If i’m not here just ask for Holly.”

“Yea-” You started a reply but was cut off as someone spoke over you.

“I think they will be fine.” You didn’t need to turn around to notice who it was, sending a look of apology to Holly, you walked back to your friends with Leah.

“What was that for?” You asked.

“What?” Leah replied, acting oblivious.

“Back there, I was talking to her.”

“You were taking too long and everyone is hungry.” Leah said, dodging the real reason.

“Whatever.” You muttered, speeding up so you walked ahead of her.

Everyone cheered once you placed down all the food that you had brought and were quick to tuck in.

You sat down in your original place and fiddled with the receipt, not bothering to touch your food, once you realised there was writing on the back. You turned the receipt over and in blue writing was a number scribbled down with ‘text me’ underneath it.

Letting a smile take over your features, you looked over your shoulder and caught Holly’s eye, sending her a quick wink before finally opening the packet of crisps you bought.

Leah, who was sitting in front of you instead of next to you, watched the whole interaction and couldn't help the frown that formed on her face, anger bubbling from deep inside.

“What have you got there y/l/n?” Leah asked before she could stop herself and you looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Everyone turned to face you where you were sitting, struggling to find something to say.

“Y/n’s got someone's number.” Steph said as she looked over your shoulder and the girls ‘oohed’ teasingly.

“Leave me alone.” You chuckled, putting the receipt in your pocket.

“You going to text them?” Lotte questioned and you didn't miss the way Leah rolled her eyes.

“I don't know, do you think I should Leah?” You said, looking at Leah with a challenging look on your face.

“Why are you asking me?”

“It's just that you don’t like me, so you won’t mind me asking them out, right?

“No.” Leah said, a little too quickly gaining a look from a couple of the girls.

“No, as in you don’t mind or..?”

“I- I don’t-” Leah struggled, “just do what you want.”

Before you could even comprehend what was going on, Leah had gotten up rather abruptly and made her way into the toilets.

“What was that about?” You questioned, looking at the other girls.

“I think you should go talk to her.” Viv suggested.

“Why? I mean, you see how much we don’t like each other.”

“Actually, we see how much you love each other.” Beth corrected.

“You’re joking,” you laughed, “she hates my guts.”

“But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“How do you feel about her?” Jen joined in.

“Okay, there's no need for you to gang up on me.” You said, raising your hands up in defence.

“Just go talk to her. I think you both need to have a one on one conversation.” Rafa said.

“Fine, but if we end up killing each other, it's not my fault.” You sighed, getting up from your seat and making your way to the bathroom.

As you walked into the toilets you saw Leah splash her face with some water. At the sound of the door being closed, Leah looked into the mirror and her eyes caught yours.

“How was the hangover this morning?” You asked, not really knowing what else to say.

“What are you doing in here, y/n?” Leah wondered, ignoring what you had said and getting straight to the point.

“I came to check on you,” you shrugged, “the girls made me do it.”

“How kind of you.” Leah said sarcastically.

“Why’d you run off?” You questioned, walking closer to her.

“Like you care.”

“I did ask.”

“It’s complicated.”

“I don't mind complicated.” You said, leaning back against the sink.

“I don't know.” Leah mumbled, looking at her hands. “I guess I got hurt.”

“How?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Seeing you talk to that girl-”

“Holly.”

“-yes her, I don't know, I guess it hurt knowing that I couldn’t make you smile like she did.”

“So you're jealous? That's why you interrupted our conversation.”

“No, tha- I- no. I'm not jealous.”

“So if i were to go back out-” You said, pointing your thumb towards the door.

“No.” Leah said quickly, grabbing onto your arm.

And that's when you felt it. Her cold hands on your arm sending sparks up to your heart, setting your whole body alight. Her chest was moving up and down, her gaze actively avoiding yours.

“You know, all of this would be so much easier if I actually hated you.” You whispered, your right hand coming up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“What do you mean?” Leah asked, her gaze finally meeting yours.

“I never hated you and I never will.”

You cupped her cheek and ran your thumb along her cheekbone. Leah leant into your touch, unable to stop herself from the overwhelming feelings bubbling inside her.

Before either of you could realise what you were doing, you were both leaning in. Leah's grip tightened and her breath got caught in her throat. Hesitantly, you placed your lips on hers.

The sudden action had stunned Leah, her breath catching in her throat. She did not expect you to kiss her now. As her brain started to register what was going on, she kissed you back, putting her hands on your waist pulling you closer.

The two of you were caught up in your own small world, getting lost in the kiss. It wasn't rushed nor hungry, it was passionate and slow. You ended the kiss as you needed to breathe, getting a soft whine of protest from Leah.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You said breathlessly.

“Kiss me again.” Leah said, not letting go of your waist.

“But- mmph”

You moved your hand from Leah’s cheek to bury your fingers in her hair, the other hand sprawled out on the small of Leah’s back, pulling her closer until your chests were pressed together. The defender clutched the bottom of your shirt, feeling as it slowly rode upwards.

Her cold fingers splayed across your stomach, gently scratching your skin. You finally broke the kiss once again and you leaned your forehead against hers.

“For the record, I still hate you.” Leah smiled, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“No you don't.” You chuckled.

“No I don't.” Leah said, shaking her head slightly, placing another peck to your lips.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson imagines #woso #woso imagine #woso imagines

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friendly-books · 4 months ago

Text

Rivers of London read and write up

Thanks for the recommendation @temporaryyuri. I’ve been told it's about a magic london cop. I won’t hold him being an Englishman against him that’s not his fault but I will hold him being a cop against him. But I’ve been told he’s cool.

“when he noticed that it was in fact missing a head.” pg. 1 Well looks like there’s been a murder. Now let’s see if it’s mundane or supernatural.

“Martin Turner dialed 999 and asked for the police.” pg. 2 What your supposed to do if you’re in Great Britain and deal with a crime call the emergency line 999

“everything else being equal, it probably wasn’t a case of accidental death.” pg. 2 Ha and yes having your head removed definitely isn’t accidental

This book is so British. I might need to go eat a burger and apple pie to compensate

“why it was me that met the ghost” pg. 3 Metaphorical or “physical” ghost?

“We maintained a strictly professional relationship despite my deep-seated yearning to climb into her uniform trousers.” pg. 5 Well then good to know.

“My name’s Nicholas Wallpenny” pg. 7 Such a British name

“Seeing as I’m dead.” pg. 8 Well at least he knows he’s dead

“The killing gentlemen did t just change his hat and coat, he changed his face” pg. 10 Spooky

“Separate beds, unfortunately” pg. 11 Just ask her out

“Trident was always on the lookout for black officers to do hideously dangerous undercover work and being mixed race meant I qualified.” pg. 15 POC protagonist! Not a fan of Trident or that police force

“Too easily distracted”

“You were checking what was written on the lions bum”

“I like you, I think you’re a good man, but it’s like you don’t see the world the way a copper needs to see the world-it’s like you’re seeing stuff that isn’t there.” pg. 21 Does Peter have ADD or ADHD?

“I’m going to hack HOMES and see if my ghost was right,” pg. 25 Homes like Sherlock Homes? And what do you mean hack? Hacking takes exploiting security vulnerabilities or a phishing con? This is going to take so long

Whats the main character’s name? I don’t think anyone’s said it yet.

“I wondered if we could enhance the faces” pg. 29 I don’t think that’s a thing

“Nicholas the corporally challenged,” pg. 31 Ha

“Peter” pg. 32 Protagonist name finally

“emphasized the width of his shoulders and a trim waist.”

“When he strolled over to talk to me, I thought he might be looking for that slightly ethnic boyfriend after all.” pg. 34 Ha Is Peter bi? Time for a counter. Bi Peter 1

“Detective Chief Inspector Thomas Nightingale,” pg. 35 I was told I would like this character and that I would ship him with Peter so let it begin

“Ghost are real.” pg. 49 Fun

“You took sciences at A-level,” said Nightingale as we pulled out. “Why didn’t you take a science degree?”

“I got distracted, sir.” pg. 51 Time to look up what A-level means

“We call it vestigium” pg. 54 Cool

“He was from Yorkshire or somewhere like that and, like many Northerners with issues, he’d moved to London as a cheap alternative to psychotherapy.” pg. 55 What’s wrong with people in Yorkshire?

“He bore down the corridor toward us like a bull on steroids and as he did I had to fight the urge to hide behind Nightingale.” pg. 56 I’m sure Nightingale will protect you

“I’m late for my colonic irrigation.” pg. 57 Is he talking about a colonoscopy?

“What’s the agreement?” I asked?

“It’s not important,” said Nightingale” pg. 57 That’s going to come up again

“A life of quiet desperation,” said Nightingale. I knew it was a quote but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of asking who’d said it.” pg. 58 Well I’m going to look it up. It looks like it’s from Henry David Thoreau book called Civil Disobedience and Other Essays

“but the Murder Team didn’t know about know about my psyche powers and the vestigium of the barking dog.” pg. 59 Peter you didn’t know about your psyche powers up until a couple of hours ago

“I looked at Nightingale, but he just raised an eyebrow.” pg. 61 Nightingale what did you do to the dog?

“A wizard.”

“Like Harry Potter?”

Nightingale sighed. “No,” he said “Not like Harry Potter.”

“In what way?”

“I’m not a fictional character,” pg. 63 Ha

“Brandon Coopertown was a good-looking older man in his mid forties with black hair and narrow features.” pg. 65 Bi Peter 2

“Stone retains vestigia very well. That’s why old buildings have such character.” pg. 69 Interesting

“Just ask him about the year of his birth.” pg. 75 Interesting how old are you Nightingale

“thrown a baby from a second story window.” pg. 80 Oh no

“Salaam” I said

“Assalaamu alaykum” pg. 91

“dissimuo was a magic spell that could change your appearance.” pg. 92 Interesting

“It’s almost impossible to steal another man’s magic.” pg. 94 Almost that’s the key word here

“It’s theoretically possible, but, morality aside, I couldn’t do it.” said Nightingale. “I don’t think any human wizard could.” pg. 95 But a non human wizard could

“Do I have to call Sifu?” pg. 97 Ha

“You have to call me Master.”

“Master?”

“That’s the tradition” said Nightingale.

I said the word in my head and it kept on coming out massa.” pg. 97 Glad I’m not the only one who got a bad taste in my mouth when Nightingale a white man says that Peter a bi racial man should call him ‘master’ Massa is a offensive and outdated term used in writing to represent spoken altercations of the word master.

“And your patron Sir Issac Newton?” I asked

Nightingale grinned. “He was our founder and the first man to systematize the practice of magic.

“I was taught that he invented modern science,” I said.

“He said both,” Nightingale. “That’s the nature of genius.” pg. 106 Interesting

“And she is…”

“Indispensable,” said Nightingale” pg. 108 Glad that Nightingale is nice to the “help” but what is Molly?

“while I, easily distracted remember, had been wondering whether I could sneak Leslie back to my room in Folly.” pg. 114 Peter focus please

“Middle aged women suddenly goes bonkers and attacks someone in the cinema, in front of her children.” pg. 118 Suspicious maybe magic?

“What’s she going to do with it all the leftover.”

“I’ve learned to not ask these questions,” said Nightingale

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m not sure I want to know the answers.” pg. 120 Ha

“So it’s not a process of oxidation, is it?” I asked

“Focus,” said Nightingale “Magic first science later.” pg. 123 Peter can multi task

“Good,” I said. “Now I’m incentivized.”

Nightingale laughed and let me to it.” pg. 124 Ha and I take it Nightingale hasn’t laughed in awhile

“I’d managed to get it turn it on but got distracted when Nightingale put us around the Hogarth roundabout fast enough to smack my head against the side window.” pg. 125 Ouch slow down Nightingale who taught you how to drive? How do you have your drivers license?

“Eel Pie Island I knew, as a collection of boatyards and houses on a river islet barely five hundred meters long.” pg. 126 Interesting

“Better than watchdogs,” said Nightingale “ask the Romans” pg. 126 Why did you know any Romans? How old are you? And yes geese are terrifying

Glad the books explaining London police talk

“River spirits” pg. 131 Cool

“He’s a troll.” pg. 135 Trolls are real in this world

“That the boys in the boat had been followers of Father Thomas, and had come downstream to raid the shrine at Eel Pie Island and been caught by followers of Mother Thames.” pg. 137 Why does this give me slit verse vibes?

Does Peter have daddy issues? That’s what I’m picking up

“I tried to keep my eyes off the long legs emerged slender and brown below the helm of the tshirt.” pg. 141 Focus Peter

“I was fighting the urge to fling myself to my knees before her and put my face between her breasts and go blubby, blubby, blubby.” pg. 144 So definitely some sort of supernatural thing right? Charm person?

“Are you on speaking terms with the Mississippi, then?” pg. 145 Ha

“My father always swore that jazz, like the blues, was born in the muddy water of the Mississippi.” pg. 145 Yep and resisting the urge to talk about music history

“there were too many Igbo in my class.

‘I can no longer wait for you to make up your mind and I am going to marry a white bitch Irish woman.” pg. 147 Someone’s bitter. Igbo refers to a member of the largest ethnic group in southeastern Nigeria. And there’s no need to bring the girl’s ethnicity in this :|

“This is the cleanest industrial river in Europe.” pg. 150 That’s concerning. How dirty are the other rivers?

“I dreamed that I was sharing a bed with Leslie May and Beverly Brook both lithe and naked on either side.” pg. 153 Peter don’t make this into a love triangle

“Tactus disvitae,” he said “The smell of afterlife-they must be down here.” pg. 169 Good to know

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we deal with vampires in Old London Times.” pg. 173 With grenades and white phosphorus

“Fuck me, I thought. I can do magic.” pg. 178 Yep Peter can do magic!

“I said she could come in, but she looked shifty and said she couldn’t.” pg. 179 Oh threshold magic

“Surprisingly, Molly was standing beside her, their heads close together as if exchanging confessions.” pg. 180 Ohh interesting

“I noticed Toby was my dog now.” pg. 185 Yes!

“I hung up as Beverly Brook sauntered over from the hospital, the swing of her hips dragging my eyes.” pg. 186 Peter I feel like I need a spray bottle for every time you get like this

“one of her breasts pushed against my shoulder and I resisted the urge to put my arm around her waist.” pg. 192 Come on Peter focus on the plot and the magic. I’m choosing to believe there’s some magic involved when it comes to Beverly

“She was spontaneously created by the midcholorians.” pg. 194 Ha nice Star Wars reference

“Detective Sergeant Miriam Stephanopoulos, Seawoll’s right-hand woman and terrifying lesbian.” pg. 205 I love her already even though she’s a cop

“You’re not the first apprentice with an inquisitive mind.” pg. 210 Were you one Nightingale?

“The man was holding silver topped cane and for a moment I thought he might be Nightingale, but the man was older and his eyes were an intense blue. Nightingale senior perhaps?” pg. 212 That’s Nightingale isn’t it.

Good for Molly with the painting

“It was Inspected Nightingale, dressed in the blue polo shirt and blazer that I recognized as being the closest thing he ever got to casual dress. I stared at him stupidly for a moment.” pg. 217 Oh I’m choosing to believe this is a Bi Peter 3

“Thank you,” he said. “Call me Thomas, please.”

Which was just not going to happen.” pg. 218 Come on Peter call him Thomas :)

“You don’t think she and Nightingale…?” asked Leslie

“Ew,” said Beverly. “That’s just wrong.” pg. 219 I agree they can just be friends

“Young men are always tempted to use brute force,” Nightingale had said. “It’s like learning to shoot a riffle; because it’s inherently dangerous, you teach safety, accuracy, and speed-in that order.” pg. 222 Oh were you tempted to use brute strength Nightingale? And he’s definitely old who uses a rifle anymore?

“Officially she was there to liaise with me on the case but really she was mainly there for the wide-screen tv, takeout, and the unresolved sexual tension.” pg. 223 No Peter stop :(

“It’s the change in the clocks,” he said. “Twice a year she takes the day off.” pg. 224 Good for her

“of the horseshoe roof of a wooden gypsy caravan” pg. 227 I believe the term is Romani

“I nearly said that not all fathers were worthy of respect, but I managed to keep my gob shut and anyway not everyone had a dad like mine.” pg. 238 Daddy issues

“We both laughed out loud at that and bypassed Swindo.” pg. 242 Aw they’re laughing with each other

“It was the same Old Man in 1914, I can tell you that for certain.”

“How do you know that?”

Nightingale hesitated, then he said, “I’m not quite as young as I look” pg. 242 I knew it

“It’s escalating,” pg. 245 Yep

“All to no avail, except pissing off Nightingale” pg. 251 Hold on Nightingale Peter’s experiments could be useful

I like that Peter experiment with magic

“Nightingale laughed. I caught a flicker of movement in my peripheral vision and I turned to find Molly standing in the doorway, eyes shining with reflected fire and fixed on Nightingale.” pg. 255 Aw :)

“The Folly has three libraries;” pg. 261 Can I live there?

“Vincit qui se vincit August 1821. I wondered what it meant.” pg. 262 According to google translate it means “he conquers who conquers himself”

“Nightingale smiled

“What is it?” I asked

“You remind me of a wizard I used to know called David Mellenby,” said Nightingale. “He had the same obsession.”

“What happened to him?” I asked. “And did he leave any notes?”

“I’m afraid he died in the war,” pg. 263 So many thoughts. I love that Peter makes Nightingale smile and laugh I take it this hasn’t happened in a long time. I want to learn more about David. I don’t know if David actually died maybe he’s behind the murders? Tinfoil hat theory. And what war Nightingale? World War One or two? How old are you?

“Help me,” he said

“What’s wrong?” I asked

“He’s eating me,” pg. 269 Oh no

“There was a poster, white lettering on a blood red background, keep calm and carry on, which I thought was good advice.” pg. 270 Peter please tell me you know England history. And interesting that Nightingale has the original poster. Peter doesn’t mention whether the poster has a crown on it

“We broke off for morning tea” pg. 272 Morning tea? Really? So British

“You keep asking the kind of question,” said Nightingale, “that really shouldn’t be coming up for another year or so.” pg. 273 Come on Nightingale tell Peter. So what if he’s asking questions that “shouldn’t be coming”? why does there need to be a time table when Peter “should” learn things?

“You get hunted down even unto the ends of the Earth and summarily executed,” pg. 274 I’d hope so as murder and human sacrifice are illegal and unethical

“safety within screaming-for-help range” pg. 276 Ha

“Chemical glow sticks from the local camping shop and these I cracked and placed where the crib sheet called for candles.” pg. 277 If they work then that’s cool

“I heard Nightingale yelling and looked over to see him running flat out towards me.” pg. 280 Go Nightingale save Peter

“Nightingale grabbed my collar and pulled me away as cherry blossoms and clods of dirt rained down around us.” pg. 281 Oh how romantic with the cherry blossoms falling around them :)

“You’ve got a devious mind, Peter,”

“Thank you, sir.” I said “I do my best.” pg. 283 Ha

“I wanted to watch her tuck her long legs under the dash.” pg. 285 Stop

“She stretched and arched her back, making her breasts strain alarmingly against her sweater.” pg. 288 I will get a spray bottle

“You really are the most extraordinary gullible young man,” she said. “What on earth are we going to do with you?” pg. 292 My thoughts exactly

“A most terrible Irishman”

“Had that Irish temper” pg. 293 Stop being prejudice about the Irish

“before I could stop her she kissed me.”

“What the fuck was that about?” pg. 296 Again my thoughts exactly

“She pulled my head down and kissed me on the cheek.” pg. 301 What is happening?

“I’d like to know what your intentions are with my sister.” pg. 301 Is Peter getting the shovel talk?

“Pikey is a word for Gypsies that a well brought up young policeman is not supposed to use.” pg. 302 I don’t think you’re supposed to use gypsy either and can the rivers stop being racist

“I’ve got nothing against the Old Man or his people but this is the twenty first century and this is my town I haven’t busted a gut for thirty years so some ‘gentleman of the road’ can move back and take what’s mine.” pg. 302 His people that’s a bit racist

“Technically he’s my master” I said “I swore a guild oath as his apprentice.” My tongue felt thick and dry as if I’d spent the night sleeping with my mouth open.” pg. 303 The wince I made when Peter said ‘master’

“A Ministry of Magic” pg. 303 Ha

“Why don’t you have a nice drink?” pg. 305 Don’t drink it

Tyburn is the worst :(

“People are conditioned by the media to think that black women are all shouting, and head shaking and girlfriending and “oh no you didn’t” and if they’re not sassy, then they’re adignified and downtrodden and soldering on and “I don’t understand why folks just can’t get along.” But if you see a black women go quiet the way Tyburn did, the bright eyes, the lips straight and the face still as a death mask, you have made an enemy for life, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred.” pg. 308 Run Peter run

“We were going to use vampires during the war?” I’d asked, and been surprised by the look of genuine hurt and anger on Nightingale’s face. “No,” he’d said sharply and then with more moderation, “Not us-the Germans.” pg. 311 So Nightingale definitely fought in WW2 and has seen some stuff

“It was his guide dog” pg. 313 Good dog

“In her words, ‘Why does this shit always fucking happened to me’ pg. 314 Ha and I can’t see Nightingale saying that even quoting someone else

“You’re volunteering to have your head beaten in?” pg. 316 It sounds like he’s volunteering himself for possession with the ‘sequestration’

“Like the manifestation of the social trend, crime and disorder, a sort of superyob. The spirit of riot and rebellion in the London mob.”

We all looked at her in amazement.” pg. 317 That is a good theory but I doubt it

“I might have even written an essay, but I’m damned if I remember any of the why.” pg. 326 Ha and I still can’t believe that Nightingale swears

“Nightingale smiled” pg. 327 Aw I just love that Nightingale smiles

“No man strikes his wife without provocation-was she a shrew?”

“A man can be driven to terrible acts by the tongue of a woman.” pg. 329 De Veil is the worst

“Seawoll’s people would provide containment in case things went pear shaped” pg. 331 Things are going to definitely go pear shaped I’m only 60% done

“shot Nightingale in the back.” pg. 332 Ahhh! :0

“Inspector Nightingale was alive” pg. 336 Good

“It’s beautiful” pg. 343 Aw :)

What’s Tyburn doing here?

“Your father’s a junkie, has been for thirty years.” pg. 351 Ouch rude Tyburn

“his heroin” pg. 352 Heroin?!

“So you understand why I don’t find Nightingale’s shabby gentility impressive in any way.” pg. 353 There’s no need to be so rude Tyburn

“Why aren’t you inside right now?” pg. 354 She probably can’t get in the the whole threshold magic

“What did he see in you?” pg. 354 Someone’s jealous

“Checking first to make sure that no one was likely to see me, I reached out and squeezed his hand.” pg. 356 Come on Peter just hold Nightingales hand

“you can’t just walk into a random pub and buy a handgun.” pg. 359 Good point this isn’t the U.S.

“Which meant that somebody had told Henry Pyke” pg. 360 We have a rat dun dun dun

“Leslie May was my suspect.” pg. 365 Oh no Leslie

How am I only 70% of the way though there’s still so much left

Who let Beverly drive?

“but it came out muffled on account of the fact that my jaw felt like it was dislocated.” pg. 378 Is Peter the possessed?

“the bastard had stolen Nightingale’s cane” pg. 382 No

“exaggerated poop deck” pg. 382 PETER THAT’S NOT WHAT IT’S CALLED (sorry the theater kid came out of me) It’s either center stage, right or left stage, downstage or upstage. Trying not to unleash my theater history onto everyone

“I know you’re out there, you black Irish dog.” pg. 383 Stop being racist

“But he has the luck of the Irish and the gift of gab.” pg. 387 So racist

“God spare me from fools and amateurs,” pg. 388 Ha

“Seawoll must have walked up behind me while I was feeding clever.” pg. 393 Oh no, are they all possessed?

“safety harness to be worn by the handsome baritone” pg. 394 Bi Peter 4

“Why is it that good quality pay their taxes while foreigners pay naught and yet expect the liberties that are an Englishman’s hard-won prerogative.” pg. 395 Is this the play being racist or Henry being racist

“Nobody likes a riot except looters and journalists.” pg. 403 Oh no a riot

“but I was distracted by the sight of the helicopter hovering directly overhead.” pg. 404 Peter you’re always distracted

“He wouldn’t have been able to spell racial discrimination on his report, if there had been a report.” pg. 406 I really hope that’s just the magic talking and not the guys actual thoughts

Inspector Neblett to the rescue

“I was wrong about you Grant,” he said. “You do have the makings of a proper copper.”

“Thank you sir” pg. 408 Aw that’s nice

“A Molotov cocktail makes a very distinctive sound.” pg. 409 Oh no

“We kissed.” pg. 422 Ahhh :) Beverly and Peter kissed

“I saw my ranting drunk-he had the face of Mr. Punch.” pg. 429 Oh no

“Mr. Punch-the spirit of riot and rebellion” pg. 430 I can’t believe Leslie was right

“From September 1944 to March 1945, that lovable Nazi scamp Wernher Von Braun” pg. 431 What did I just read.

“Just to let you know that Thomas is conscious and asking for you.” pg. 440 He’s awake :)

“How old are you?”

“Old,” he whispered “Turn century” pg. 442 I knew it!

“Nightingale made a wheezing sound that alarmed me for a moment until I realized that it was laughter.” pg. 442 Glad that Nightingale can laugh in this situation

“Is it natural?”

He shook his head” pg. 442 Oh interesting so it’s not normal.

“He was a heavyset white man with a skinned head and a faded tattoo of SS lighting bolts on his neck.” pg. 448 He’s a skin head?! Get away from Peter

“Someone sniggered-probably Beverly” pg. 449 Ha

“My duty, my obligation-my decision.” pg. 449 Yes go Peter

“You want to fuck with me, Tyburn, you had better know who you’re messing with.” pg. 449 Ohhh

“Your father is a failed musician and your mother cleans offices for a living. You grew up in a council flat and you went to your local comprehensive and you failed your A-levels.” pg. 450 She didn’t go there >:( Someone shouldn’t throw stones at glass houses. The only reason your immigrant mother from Nigeria is a goddess is because she chose to commit suicide from failing her medical exam and her fiancé leaving her and by some struck of luck became a goddess instead of dying. Tyburn won’t have the opportunities and the power she has if not for her mother being an actual goddess.

“Toby slammed into my ankles as soon as I was across the threshold.” pg. 452 Aw :)

“Which meant-nothing” pg. 453 I’m sure it means something

“as she bit me hard.” pg. 455 Ahh

“After knocking my forehead a couple of times, I just opened the side door like a normal person.” pg. 457 Ha

“But no, not Nickolas Wallpenny, it was Henry Pyke. It was always Henry Pyke, right from the start.” pg. 460 It was him from the start!? :0

“You know;” he squeaked, “you’re not nearly as stupid as you look.” pg. 460 Rude

“Where’s Henry now?”

“He’s in your girlfriend’s head, having carnal knowledge of her brain.” pg. 461 Beverly?! No wait he’s talking about Leslie. Come on Mr. Punch keep up this the new relationship details you’re so far behind on the gossip

“I could no more have not chased him than I could have stopped breathing.” pg. 461 Cool

“I closed the last couple of meters on Mr. Punch and rugby-tackled the dead fucker to the ground.” pg. 463 Yes go Peter!

“Bastard,” he said. “Black Irish bastard dog.” pg. 463 So rude and racist >:( it’s not even that creative come up with better honestly

“Was there a god of Justice? And where would I find him-or maybe her.” pg. 464 Way to be inclusive Peter :)

“And suddenly I understood what Mama Thames had been trying to tell me.” pg. 465 See I knew it would come in handy

“It was the spirt of Old Man of the River as a young man.” pg. 466 So cool and he’s so old

“Molly was hunched over, her face turned away and hidden by her hair, vomiting blood onto her nice clean tiles.” pg. 467 Oh dear

“I looked into her eyes and saw that they were all back, no trace of white at all, and filled with hunger and despair.” pg. 468 Oh no

“Nightingale’s name made her pause, but only for a moment.” pg. 469 She still paused that’s something

“It was Toby” pg. 470 Go Toby!

“It was Leslie, waiting for me on the chaise lounge, holding Nightingale’s cane across her knees and staring into space.” pg. 471 Oh come on

“I blame it on the Italian, Piccini, a passionate race-they have to incorporate lust into all their endeavors, even their religious works.” pg. 473 Well that’s racist

“And then the mouthy git was gone, right on cue.” pg. 477 Good

“whom he piled with alcohol”

“he might have pressed his case a little too fervently”

“she was a willing partner, or at least not objecting too strenuously”

“At least right up to the point where she bit his dick off.” pg. 480 Good for her

“Beautiful, but she didn’t have slanty eyes.” pg. 481 More racism I’m so glad you got your dick bitten off

“I couldn’t help thinking that hanging out with me had almost killed her.” pg. 482 Poor Peter

“It had been less than six months” pg. 482 It hasn’t even been six months?!

“Nightingale was in the adjacent room, was awake and sitting up and doing the Telegraph crossword.” pg. 483 Yay Nightingale and he’s doing ok

“two people who definitely still believed in divine rights.” pg. 486 Ew divine rights

“It can’t be Tyburn.” I’d said. You don’t inflict Tyburn on anyone as a gesture of peace or goodwill.” pg. 487 Yep

“old-fashioned rectangular hay bays, of the type I happen to know are no longer common in British farming practices.” pg. 488 It’s not common? Over here it is at least where I live

“Don’t worry, it’s basically just like the country,” I said. “Only with more people.” pg. 491 Ha

Final thoughts

I enjoyed this book. I adore the characters, especially Peter, Nightingale, and Molly. I liked the Rivers. The book was very British. I enjoyed the magic and the mystery. I’m glad this book didn’t go into a love triangle with Peter, Leslie, and Beverly. Bi Peter is up to 4 (yes I’m turning this into a counter) I wasn’t a fan of how horny Peter. I wasn’t expecting all the racism.

Onto Moon over SoHo

#rivers of london #peter grant #peter grant is bi #starlinggail

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