#Derek Ringer

[scotty-bloke]

And a bonus... Iconic Subaru donuts!

[🎥] '93 🇳🇿 rally

[motorsportsminiatures]

[shinji285]

Colin McRae and co-driver Derek Ringer during the Rally Catalunya in 1995.

[pathologicalreid]

could you do a third part to buried alive where the reader finally gets a bit better and goes out into the field for the first time and then the team goes and gets drinks after bc they are so proud of her :) -🌱

back again | S.R.

part one | part two

in which you go back into the field (and kick ass)

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category? angst and then fluff

content warnings: established relationship. PTSD undertones. guns and physical fighting. reader is paired with morgan and kicks ass. usual cm case stuff. going to a bar and alcohol consumption. use of 'ass'. reader is referred to as a girl.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: hey anon i love you!!! i never expected people to like this story so much, but im so grateful i hope you enjoy!! thanks for reading <3 don't forget to like and reblog <3333333333

It felt good. Standing outside of a suspect's house with Morgan felt normal to you, having your firearm holstered, felt right.

He was trying to get ahold of the team, but the two of you were far from the town and, apparently, cell service. “The call keeps dropping, but they know where we are. They should be on their way,” he told you, getting out of the car. “If you’re uncomfortable going in, you don’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes and got out of the SUV. “I’ve got your back,” you responded self-assuredly. It was your first case back in the field, and besides, you weren’t about to let Derek walk into the lion's den alone.

Despite your attempt at confidence, you hadn’t planned on going to a suspect's house. The two of you had been on your way back from talking to a victim’s family, meaning you didn’t have vests. “I know you do,” Morgan confirmed, removing his sunglasses and snapping the temples down. “Go around back, I’ll take the front,” he said.

Nodding, you unholstered your weapon and kept it pointed toward the ground, you took a deep breath before wrapping around the white farmhouse.

Paranoid thoughts pelted your brain. Did you remember to shut off your phone’s ringer? What if the suspect had a gun? What if the information you were given was wrong and you didn’t have probable cause?

You shook your head, peeking in through the open blinds, you saw the kitchen. The town you were in was on the smaller side, and the only thing that surrounded you was farmland. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and wished you had been given more time to prepare, having comms right now would be remarkably helpful.

Approaching the back door, you leaned against the siding before reaching over and turning the doorknob. It was already unlocked, which could either be a good thing or a bad thing. You swung the door open and stepped inside the house, pointing your Glock around the kitchen, you saw Morgan entering the living room in your peripheral vision. “Clear!” You called out, and shortly after, Morgan called the same.

Once you had cleared the main floor, Morgan moved upstairs and you moved downstairs, pulling your flashlight from your belt, you pointed it down the steps.

“Jackson Fike this is the FBI,” you called, making yourself known. You reached the bottom of the stairs, just to see another door, wide open. “Damn it,” you cursed, “Morgan, he’s running!” You shouted, hoping your voice would be able to carry up two flights of stairs.

You pocketed your flashlight and took off running out the door. Distantly, you saw a man fitting the suspect's description sprinting towards the woods. Without a second thought, you followed, expecting Derek to be not far behind you.

Thankfully, it was still light outside, the scent of the damp earth filled your senses, but it didn’t overwhelm you. You wouldn’t let it.

You skidded to a halt in the forest, keeping your back to a tree so you could be attacked from behind, “Jackson Fike, you can’t keep running like this. You know as well as I do that the road ends here.” You spoke loudly, hoping he heard you from wherever he had disappeared into the woods.

His choices here boiled down to giving himself up or being on the run for the rest of his life. Based on the profile the team had put together, he would never be able to leave this town. Not by choice, at least.

The snap of a twig gave his location away, you twisted your body in the direction of the noise. Your ears perked up like a bloodhound. “Jackson, if you come with me and tell me where the girls are, maybe I could see about keeping you close to home. Close to your house, that’s what’s important, right?” You tried to negotiate with him. You didn’t know if he was armed, but you did know that suicide by cop wasn’t in his profile. It was also less paperwork if you cuffed him without a fight.

“You can’t make me that promise, agent,” he responded. His voice was gravelly despite only being in his late thirties. “Why would I negotiate with a fed when I could just kill one instead?” He asked.

His question sent a chill down your spine all the way down to where your handcuffs rested on your back. “You’re right,” you ceded, “You’d be worshipped in prison for killing a fed, but why take that chance?”

In a flash, the UnSub smacked your wrist, causing a misfire into the trees, and making your weapon hit the ground.

That was fine, your marksmanship was good enough to pass your qualifications, but hand-to-hand was where you really excelled. He charged at you, but you jumped out of the way.

Closer to the farmhouse you heard voices, but you didn’t let yourself get distracted. Instead, you used your one boxing lesson with JJ and kicked. The inside of your foot provided enough surface to daze your opponent, he stumbled around, and you made sure to keep both of your feet firmly planted to the ground.

He swung back, but you ducked just in time to feel the breeze of his swing against your face. In response, you swung back, hitting him across the face.

Jackson retaliated, using both hands to push you into a tree, crushing your shoulder but not doing anything to stop you from throwing another hit, striking him on the head, and causing him to fall to the ground. He groaned as you crouched down and pulled your cuffs out, fastening them around his wrists.

As you read him his rights, the local police and the rest of your team approached you. Emily looked at you warily, Spencer was searching for injuries, but Morgan was grinning. He was like a giddy little kid who had heard the ice cream truck turn on his street.

Handing off the UnSub to a local, you eyed Morgan suspiciously, “What are you smiling at?” You asked, rotating your shoulder in a failed attempt to make it feel better.

“You took that guy down,” Derek said, gesturing to where the police officer was now taking the UnSub.

Confused, you shrugged, “Yeah, and?”

He laughed again, “Oh, you are so back, pretty girl.”

A flight later, you were hunched over takedown paperwork, something you certainly hadn’t missed during your time away from the field. At the desk adjacent to yours, Spencer was flipping through a book, waiting for you so you could go home.

After initialing each page and signing the last one, you placed the papers into the confidential file. Going up the stairs to Hotch’s office, you knocked on the door, “Come in.”

You stepped into the office and reached over to hand him the file, “My takedown paperwork for Jackson Fike.”

He nodded, the stern look on his face fading as he looked at you, “You did impressive work today, Y/L/N. By taking the initiative to arrest Fike, you saved the three girls he had captive.”

Shrugging, you fiddled with his nameplate, “I just did what felt right.”

“Other agents would’ve shot him, and it would’ve been justified, but you didn’t,” Hotch said, raising his eyebrows. “It’s good to see you out in the field again,” he told you in that fatherly, parental tone of his.

You looked out the window of his office, “It’s good to be back out, sir.” Watching as the rest of the team gathered back into the bullpen, “I thought everyone had already left?”

Hotch set your file down and stood from his desk, “I believe they were all waiting for you in Garcia’s office.”

Confused, you walked outside of the office and down the steps, “Hey?” You said cautiously, looking around at everyone, “What’s going on?” You looked at Spencer, but he just shrugged like he didn’t know any more than you did.

“We,” Derek said, “are going to O’Keefe’s,” he said, grinning as you reached over your desk to grab your bag and your coat.

Shoving your arms through the sleeves of your coat, you looked at the team curiously, “I’m getting the sense that I don’t have much of a choice in this outing.”

Grinning, Penelope excitedly walked towards you, looping her arm through yours and leading you out of the bullpen, “you don’t!”

You laughed, looking back at Spencer, who was just smiling at you. It wasn’t in your nature to turn down what Emily called ‘team bonding’, so the lot of you went to the familiar bar, a place you hadn’t been in nearly four months.

At the same table as always, standing room only with the eight of you, Rossi paid for all of your preferred drinks. Something you had learned to not protest over the years, as long as he was there, he’d never let you pay for your drinks.

Casually, Spencer had his arm around your waist, the two of you were more affectionate outside of the office. “How’s your shoulder?” He asked, gently skimming the pad of his thumb over the sensitive skin. Naturally, Spencer didn’t say anything in front of the team when you mentioned being shoved into a tree, but behind closed doors, he had asked to take a look at it.

You hummed in response, leaning into his touch, “Better, just bruised a bit.”

He dropped his hand back down to your waist, “good,” he whispered, ducking his head, and pressing a kiss to your cheek, causing you to smile.

Grabbing your attention, Derek cleared his throat and raised his glass in your general direction. “Tonight is about you, pretty girl,” he said, causing everyone else to turn to you. Your cheeks burned, “not only did you kick some UnSub ass, but you threw yourself back into the field after months on the sidelines.”

At your side, Spencer squeezed your hip, you were grinning like a fool.

“It has been an honor to be able to watch you reclaim yourself. I, for one, am proud of that accomplishment,” Morgan continued. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, too.”

You nodded enthusiastically, “Thank you. All of you, really.” You reached forward where everyone was clinking their glasses before taking a sip. Setting your glass down, you turned and looked at Spencer, “I love you,” you whispered to him.

He dropped a kiss to your lips, earning a whoop from Garcia. When he pulled away, he smiled at you softly, “I love you too.”

[alovesongtheywrote]

nightmare academia puts me through the ringer EVERY TIME and i love it

♥ Summary: in a few chapters, it's gonna get worse!! for now tho... In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, case stuff ensues and you prepare for heartbreak. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: cops. cops being terrible, cops exploiting the system, and cops shaming a woman for being a sex worker. also, violence, implied violence, and past violence.

♥ A/N: holy shit, this chapter is Very Long

♥ Word Count: 4885

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

In the weeks that followed, Spencer brought the BAU to you.  Of course, not everyone could make it.  Kate Callahan was off raising her children.  Penelope Garcia was the target of several  hitmen (whereas Frank was probably the target of a single hitman.  Massive difference.  Trust me.)  And Derek Morgan remained at Quantico with Garcia- so you really weren’t sure what to expect.  The agents you had the strongest feelings about were out of commission.  The last time you’d met his team it did not uh, how would you put it?  End well?  So you were- justifiably- a touch guarded.

That changed. Eventually.

It started with Adam.  

At that point in the investigation, local law enforcement had only shown your friend cruelty, distrust, and skepticism.  Honestly?  You were about to start biting people about it.  (Yeah, maybe it would have gotten you arrested, but at that point, you did not care.  At the very least, biting would make you feel productive.)  You were well and truly prepared for Spencer’s law enforcement team to behave in a similar manner to the local cops- and to be honest, you probably should have been.  Most Feds would carry that same suspicion and distrust, and if they didn’t they were probably faking it to try and get a confession.  

The BAU, however, are not most Feds.  For several reasons.  Either way, you were well and truly prepared to maul the next person who treated your friend like garbage, fed or otherwise.  There was never a need.

The BAU showed Adam basic decency.  They didn’t talk down to him or dismiss him as a demeaning stereotype- and yes, that was the barest of bare minimum, but it was still something.  While they regarded him with mild suspicion for the first like, two minutes, it only took the team that same two minutes to come to the conclusion that Adam was innocent.  After that, the BAU was just as dedicated to clearing Adam’s name as you were.

“Adam had an incredibly emotional response when we mentioned Frank,” Hotchner explained to the local detectives, “He’s genuinely devastated by what happened.  He couldn’t have done this.  Even if he did attack Frank, it wouldn’t have been a clinical hit.”

“Emotions tend to make things messy- we would have seen something much more personal, with more violence and more remorse,” Rossi added.

The detectives did not listen.  The detectives did not care.  

“I’d say a gunshot wound is pretty messy,” one laughed.

“Yeah,” another jumped in, “Try telling the vic’ that things aren’t messy.”

You bit your tongue to keep from screaming, but you didn’t stay entirely silent.  If the detectives weren’t going to give a shit on their own, then you were going to make them.

“Have you actually?” you asked, crossing your arms, “Have you spoken to the victim?”

“Eh, someone else got around to it,” the first detective asked, looking at his partner with the special kind of uncertainty that came with getting called out.

“Did you read the report, then?”

“Well, I’m on the case, aren’t I?”

“Answer the question, detective.”

In the telling silence that followed, Rossi had to turn away to hide his (failed) attempt to suppress a grin.  Hotchner looked proud, despite not knowing you very well.  Spencer looked like he might grab you by the waist and kiss you until you were out of breath.  He didn’t, though, for lots of reasons- his boss was there, he hadn’t asked you if you’d like to be kissed, there was more serious stuff to focus on, and like… you already looked fucking pissed.

The detectives just looked embarrassed.  

“I- uh.  I’ve skimmed it,” the first detective stuttered out.

“Yeah, cool, not good enough,” you nabbed the case file from a nearby desk and pressed it into the officer’s hands, “Consider reading the report.  You’ll find that the victim disagrees with you.”

Both detectives stared at the file as if they were seeing it for the first time- as if they were seeing a file for the first time.  You sighed.

“Detective, if I may ask, how much overtime have you put in on this case?”  the man in front of you blanched at your question.  You would’ve laughed if you weren’t so fucking angry, “Cool.  I thought so.”

“Ough,” Rossi winced with faux sympathy, “Overtime?  And you haven’t even read the case file?”

“Hey, we’ve been very busy these last few weeks!”

The second officer nodded, “Just last week, we had five break-ins in the downtown area.”

“Alright, I’ll accept that,” you turned to leave before doubling back, “But before I go, I need to ask- do you care about the wellbeing of the break-in vics the way you care about this case?  Do you care about all victims so dearly?  Or do you treasure their testimony the way you “treasure” the testimony in this case?”

“What?  What are you saying, what do you-”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume it’s the latter.”  

“What?  Okay, what the hell do you know about police work-!”

“They’re an expert criminologist,” Spencer said, seething slightly.

“Dr. Reid is right.  I know a thing or two about crime- and if I’m just gonna put it this way.  I’ve seen the data.  I’ve heard testimony from victims and offenders.  I know the local and nationwide statistics for unreported crimes.  You’re concerned about the victim hearing that his case isn’t messy?  Look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve never told a victim that their situation- their serious situation- was a waste of police time.”

The officers couldn’t look at your face, much less your eyes.  You had done what you needed to do.

“You wanna solve crimes?  You wanna be the hero?  Then take a goddamned ethics class, read your fucking case files, care for your community, and do your fucking job.”

The detectives tried in vain to defend themselves.  They were unsuccessful- especially in the face of the three FBI agents that immediately backed you up.

“Dr. (L/N) is right.  The number of unreported crimes will astound you,” Rossi said, smirking like the little shit that we all know he is.

“This is especially prevalent with sexual assault cases, theft and scams, and other crimes where the victim may feel a sense of embarrassment- or crimes where the victim feels like their case won’t be taken seriously,” Spencer added in a very Spencer-like way.

“And everything you need to know about this crime is in the file.  If you’d read it, you’d know that the victim is very insistent that your guy didn’t do it, and one could say that, oh, I don’t know, he’s a strong eyewitness.  He is the victim and all,” Rossi continued, getting their asses.

They struggled to respond, “Well- I-  We-”

“And even if you discount the eyewitness testimony, there’s still the matter of alibis and ballistics.  Security cameras have placed Adam away from the community center at the time of the shooting.  The ballistics aren’t a match to any weapon that Adam has ever come into contact with.  Even if they were a match, he hasn’t handled a weapon since his release from prison as a condition of his parole.  But if you had checked the file, you’d know that,” Hotch added, also smirking like a little shit, but with a slight edge to it- that edge, kids, is called “pissed off authority figure.”

“Hey, it-”

“It just sounds like poor police work to me,” Spencer had the biggest smirk of all- the smirk of a little shit who’s proud of his team and of his hot co-professor, “Had you actually done any of your research, you would realize that the suspect you have in custody is being held on police bias and circumstantial evidence.  Any good lawyer can get this case thrown out, and then where will you be?”

His smirk turned to a full grin when you shot him a small smile of your own.

The detectives continued to sputter out responses.  For once, the second one spoke, “Now, we may not be fancy FBI agents, but this precinct has a solid track record of convictions-”

“Were those convictions based on circumstance and bias?” Neither detective answered Spencer’s question.  He continued, “Even if this precinct had a perfect track record, that wouldn’t make it invulnerable to mistakes- and even if it did, you would still have the responsibility of approaching each case like professionals to ensure the wellbeing of victims, suspects, and families.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” you slid forward, putting a hand on Spencer’s arm, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to go speak with the victim.  His name is Frank, by the way.”

And just like that, you pulled Dr. Spencer Reid away- and he did not resist in the slightest.  In fact, he held the door open for you as you exited the precinct.  Rossi was pretty sure he saw the kid get behind the wheel.

As the detectives scurried away with their tails between their legs, the older agent let out a long whistle.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that our young Dr. Reid is officially smitten.”

“He was smitten the last time we were here,” Hotch said, pulling another copy of the case file from seemingly nowhere- one of his many unit chief powers.

“Yeah, yeah, but this time it’s bad.  Garcia’s gonna be mad that she didn’t get to see it.”

Hotch nodded, solemnly.

“Y’know, I think the three of them combined could probably take down the whole FBI.”

“You’re right,” Hotch snapped the file closed with a tiny little proud-dad-type smile, “We’re awfully lucky that they’re focused on something else at the moment.”

-

Missy got your guard to drop further.

Initially, she was hesitant to have the Feds drop in on Frank’s case- you both were.  You were used to local law enforcement treating her like shit.  You didn’t stand for it- every time a cop or lawyer so much as dared to look at her wrong, you bared your teeth like a damn dog and threatened to bite where it would hurt.  Y’know.  Lawsuits.  Missy wasn’t exactly a pushover, either.  She was one of the strongest people you knew, and you were well aware that she could hold her own.  If Missy wanted to be scary, she could be fucking terrifying.

Still, it was a little exhausting to fight all these battles against people in positions of authority who were so convinced that their series of events was correct, and anyone who went against it was nothing more than a lying ex-con.  Having the BAU in your pockets certainly helped with that.

“I already told you what happened.  I’ll tell you a thousand more times if I have to, but the story isn’t going to change,” Missy groaned, voice muffled as she buried her face in her hands.

“Okay, then.  We’ll go over your testimony again.  A few more times, if you don’t mind,” One of the local detectives smirked, ignoring the death glare you sent her way.

“Fine.  Frank was walking me to the community center.  I was taking a class on resume writing.  It was cloudy, not raining, but cold.  We came around the side of the building when a man in a leather jacket walked around the corner.”

“And what did this man do?”

“He- he shot Frank.  He tried to kill my-” she took a shaky breath.  You put a hand on her arm, aiming for gentle comfort and reassurance.  Missy nodded, letting you know you’d hit your target.

“Did you see his face?” The officer continued.

“No.  He was wearing one of those bike helmets that block off the person’s eyes- but I swear, it wasn’t Adam.  This guy was too bulky.  Adam’s made of wires, he needs to eat more.”

“You seem to have a lot of affection for Adam,” the detective leaned forward, “Now, we know you’ve claimed to be in a relationship with Frank- but could you describe your relationship with Adam for us?”

“I already said it!  I took a couple classes with him!  He’s a friend, that’s all.”

“Mhmm.  That’s all.  And in your previous line of work- the one that earned you a prison sentence of twelve months and a little over minimum wage- you had a lot of ‘friends,’ yes?”

“Excuse me?” your fingers bit into the table that separated you from the cop.  You had half a mind to jump over the thing and throttle the smug detective sitting before you.  

“What?” Missy growled, “You think just because I used to hook I fuck all my friends now?  I’ve taken a few classes with Doc (L/N), I haven’t fucked them!”

You nodded in solemn agreement.  The detective shrugged this off, ignoring everything that came out of Missy’s mouth.  When she spoke again, her voice rang with the faux pity of someone who held themselves leagues above Missy.

“You know, I can see why you were looking at writing up a resume- your old line of work is so degrading.  You know you’re never the same, afterwards.  You can never wash off the shame.  You’ll always be a little broken.  A little-”

“Okay, that’s enough-” you stood up, slamming your hands down on the table.

“Hey, fuck you, man-” Missy leaned forward, “Don’t tell me what hooking did to me.  You don’t know me.  You don’t fucking know.”

“And now you’re lashing out.  Poor thing-”

“Detective Foy.  A word,” Tara Lewis, a newer BAU agent who you hadn’t really had the pleasure of meeting materialized in the doorway like a perfectly timed ghost, ready to right some wrongs and keep you from committing a murder.  Her request for a word was perfectly intimidating, disclosing the not-so-secret secret that the request itself was not actually a request.  

“I’m sorry, Agent, I’m in the middle of an interrogation-” 

“It’s not an interrogation.  You’re questioning a witness.  Agent Jareau will handle things from here.  Now, a word?”

You and Missy watched as the detective slunk out of the room with her tail between her legs.  Moments later, JJ joined you, but she didn’t bother to start a line of questioning.  Instead, the three of you watched in giddy silence as Tara Lewis destroyed Detective Foy where she stood.  You couldn’t hear her through the glass, but you could vaguely read the words, “You are a police officer meant to serve and protect the people in your community, and uphold the law.  You should educate yourself on the law, and on what it means to serve and protect.”  On her lips.

You could’ve been off on that translation, but either way, it was sick as fuck.  By the time Tara was finished, you and Missy were barely holding back your laughter.  You probably would’ve held it in if JJ hadn’t turned around with a pleased grin on her face.

“Ok, well, I’ve known Agent Lewis for about three minutes, and already I adore her,” you cackled.

“Oh, she’s excellent,” Missy said, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Well, we certainly like her,” Jennifer grinned, clearly proud of her teammate and happy to see that someone outside the BAU had taken notice.

A few moments later, Tara re-entered the room with a tired sigh on her lips.  It didn’t take her long to realize that you were all staring right at her.

“What?  What is it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, we just think, as a group,” you looked around like you were the leader of the world’s weirdest (and maybe coolest?) group project, “That you are, objectively, excellent.”

“Yep.  Not bad for a Fed.”

Again, you nodded in agreement, “I concur.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, slightly confused, “Thank you?”

Missy gave Tara a thumbs up.  You followed her lead.  Not really knowing what else to do in this situation, and figuring there was no harm in joining the madness, Tara returned the thumbs up.

“Well, like we said, we’ll take over the questioning from here,” JJ took a seat as she spoke.  Tara joined her at the table.

“So, after Frank was shot, did you see where the attacker went?”

“No.  I was kind of focused on my partner bleeding on the ground.”

“That’s fair- but try to think back.  Did you see anything in your peripheral vision?  Did you hear anything?”

Missy paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, she still sounded lost in thought, “I heard a bike.  It makes sense with the helmet- I think it might’ve been a Yamaha?”  

“Wait, you can tell which brand a bike is by the sound?” you asked, not disbelieving Missy, but distracted by the new knowledge that a person could do such a thing.

“If you let me think about it, I could probably give you the make and model.”

“Holy shit, really?” your eyes were wide.  Your expression betrayed just how bewildered and impressed you were by vehicle knowledge.  It might’ve been basic knowledge, but fuck it, the author can’t drive.

“Oh, absolutely- different bikes make different sounds.  Cars are similar,” Tara nodded her agreement.

“You can tell cars apart by their sounds!?”

“Yeah?  Can’t you?” Missy turned to face you, slightly bemused.

“I can tell that they’re old?  Or like, electric, I guess?”

“Okay, when this is all over, I’m giving you a lesson.”

“I’d like to get in on that,” Tara added.

“Excellent!” Missy smiled, “Now everyone shut up and let me think.”

-

The way the BAU treated Frank dragged your guard down further.  They were gentle, but not dehumanizing or infantilizing.  They just treated him like a human person, and you found that neat, and more importantly, Frank found that neat.  

Also, the BAU laughed at Frank’s anecdotes and jokes.  I will be fully honest.  That was more of a relief to you, especially because a decent chunk of those anecdotes and jokes were about you murdering the shit out of Spencer Reid using nothing but your words.

It really started on that very first day, when you and Spencer had gone to visit Frank.  He could see it from his hospital bed- Spencer’s hand on your shoulder, the way Spencer was very clearly trying to comfort you from some unknown upset, and that was it.

Frank said, “Wow.  Those two have sure come a long way from Doc telling him to go die in a ditch.”

And JJ, who had been questioning him, choked on her coffee and wheezed out a, “What?”  

And that was pretty much it.  Frank explained that Spencer had pissed you off, you’d hit him with the “die in a ditch” thing, and he looked so sad that you literally forgave him the next day.  (He left out the bit about the stabbing, because stabbing doesn’t just kill people, it kills moods.)

From then on, Frank was the premium source of gossip on you and Spencer.  Of course, Missy got in on it, too.

When they told Rossi about the time you’d called Reid a “shit-licking asshole fed,” the agent laughed so hard that he literally couldn’t speak for a solid minute.  Was he a big fan of the anti-fed talk?  Not particularly.  But you had gone at it with such gusto, and with such anger, that he couldn’t help but cackle.  

You knew none of this, but you knew that everyone involved seemed happier after the BAU took the case.  That was good enough for you.

-

Your guard fell because of Spencer.

Wasn’t that always the way this was going to go?

While the BAU took care of your friends, Spencer took care of you.  He made sure you got home safe.  He kept you in the loop about everything case-relevant.  He made sure you remembered to eat, which was kind of hypocritical of him, but oh well.  He offered to drive you to and from the hospital, which was a fun kind of hell, because the man obeyed every traffic law ever made, but you got to bully him for it, so it all evened out in the end.  He distracted you from the nightmare you were living through by offering fun facts.  He made the nightmare better just by being him.  

And he was the one to get Adam out.  

He didn’t announce this victory to you.  He just showed up one day, at the hospital, following behind Adam as the newly freed man burst into Frank’s room.

“Frank!  Hey, are you good man?  I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, I would’ve been, but you know how it is with cops.”

“Shit, dude,” Frank beamed, “All things considered, I’m not too bad.”

“Holy shit, Adam?” you let out a hospital-appropriate screech.

“Oh my god,” Missy stood from her place at Frank’s bedside to give him a hug.  For a moment, she held him so tightly that it looked like Adam legitimately couldn’t breathe.

The moment she saw Spencer lingering in the background, she switched from one wire-shaped man to the next.  Spencer hugged her back politely, and then, in an instant, she was onto you.

“You sons of bitches did it!  You actually did it!”

“Did we?” you asked Spencer, lowering your voice as Missy, Frank, and Adam enjoyed their reunion.

“We did,” Spencer confirmed, stepping closer to you until you were side to side, whispering to each other to avoid disturbing your friends, “We found bank statements proving that this was a targeted hit, unrelated to Adam.  We’ve only been able to find the unsub’s side so far, but it won’t take us long to find whoever contracted him.” 

“Shit- that’s both really good and mildly fucking terrifying.”

“I know,” Spencer answered almost too quickly, but he covered it up just as fast, “But it means that Adam is a free man.  It’s almost over, (Y/N).”

You let out a small exhale, trying to maintain some semblance of calm, “Almost.  Thank you, Spence.  For all of this, for everything-”

“You don’t need to thank me.  It wasn’t just the new evidence.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, there was this local criminology professor, maybe you’ve heard of them.  They were incredibly insistent that law enforcement look deeper into the case, and because of them, the conviction vanished.”

A smile slipped onto your face as you turned to face him, “Was that a joke, Spence?  You’re doing ha-ha funny jokes now?”

“I’m saying you did a good thing, here, (Y/N).  Look,” he nodded towards the hospital bed, where your friends were talking, beaming, clinging to each other’s hands like they’d been shot, traumatized, and separated for months- which was an accurate summary, actually.

At your side, you let your hand slip into Spencer’s, weaving your fingers between his slender ones.  You felt his grip tighten, his palm pressed tightly to yours.  His hands were warm.

“We did a good thing,” you whispered.

You pulled him closer by the hand.  You weren’t harsh or forceful, but Spencer still stumbled into you with what can only be described as a somewhat lovestruck grin on his face.

And then his phone rang.

You watched his face fall as he answered it.  His fingers drifted away from yours.  You could almost hear Hotchner’s voice on the other end.  The call only lasted a few moments, but it changed everything.  The air in the room grew heavy.  The room fell silent.

“We found the unsub.  My team is confronting him now, I-” he paused.

“They want you to go with them.”

“I have to.”

A shaky breath escaped your lungs, and you were kinda pissed at it- how dare that shaky breath reveal how you actually felt?  How dare it break free from your body, alerting Spencer that your world had just spun out sideways for the millionth time that week.

You were gonna square up with that fucking breath.

But first, without saying another word, you nodded towards the door.  Spencer nodded back.  Like that, he was gone.  You watched him go.  You stared at the empty doorway after he’d left.   The room remained silent.

I mean, it did until it didn’t- your friends couldn’t watch that and say nothing.  I don’t think anybody could.

“Holy shit, you’re just gonna let him leave without saying goodbye?” Adam asked, looking between you and the door so quickly that you were almost surprised that his head didn’t fly off.

“He’s down bad,” Frank whispered, nodding in agreement, “Go get him.”

“I- he’s gonna be back in five minutes,” you tried to reason.  It didn’t work.

“He could be back never!  He might die!” Missy ran forward, gripping your shoulders.

“He’s got a bulletproof vest-”

“THERE IS SO MUCH THOSE THINGS DON’T COVER!!” Missy progressed to shaking you, slightly, “Go get him!  Hurry, before it’s too late!”

“I really don’t know what you want me to say here.”

“Tell him you’re also down bad!” Frank exclaimed, no longer whispering.

“Down bad-?  What the fuck does that even mean,” you said, your voice growing quieter and quieter as you left the room and headed down the hallway.

“... Y’know, they taught me what ‘down bad’ means.”

“Same.”

As your friends continued to discuss, you were already halfway down the hallway, walking as fast as you could given the hospital setting.  Spencer was nowhere to be seen and you really didn’t have time to look.  You really had one choice.  The elevators.

You reached them just in time to watch that lanky noodle motherfucker step inside.

Giving up on decorum, you raced through the hospital corridor, yelling out apologies at every human person you passed- fortunately there weren’t too many, so it wasn’t like you caused a massive disturbance.  Most people just thought you were having your rom-com finale moment.  Maybe some part of you was trying to, but honestly, you weren’t really thinking about it.  You were mostly just thinking, “Shit, shit, shit, I have to get in that elevator.”

And you did!  You made it!  You stumbled through the doors and came to a stop in the middle of that tiny box.  Spencer reached out to steady you, his expression letting you in on his amused confusion.  You smiled up at him, trying not to pant- and then you came to a realization.

You had no fucking clue what the hell you were going to say.

To be fair, what the fuck is a person supposed to say in that situation?  “Heyyyy, my friends think I’m in love with you, so now I’m here, wanna talk about that before you head into a dangerous situation involving a hitman and many guns?”

Or perhaps, “Hey!  You’re a good person even though I keep insisting you aren’t one, so I want you to know that you’re a good person before I send you off to get murdered!”

Or maybe, “You’re hot, I’m hot, wanna spend the next thirty seconds doing terrible things to this elevator that will get us forcibly removed from this hospital?”

Or even, “Hi, you just did a really nice thing for my friends, and I really appreciate it, and even though I don’t express it, I do care about you a lot, so maybe don’t die in the next few hours.  For me.  Please.”

In the end, you just settled for, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Spencer replied, not taking his hands from your shoulders even though you were more than steady, “Is everything okay?”

“Okay?  Yeah,  yeah, everything is, um.  Everything’s fine.  I just-”  you froze again, because seriously, what the fuck could you say right then and there?  What could you say that would let him know everything you wanted him to know?

“Are you sure?” he looked at you, held you with such delicate concern.  You kind of wanted to partake in elevator ruining activities with Spencer until the two of you got kicked out of the hospital together. 

“Yeah- yeah!  Everything’s- I’m okay, it’s just,” you raised your hand, letting it hover between the two of you for a moment before you placed it over one of his, “Come out of this alive.  Make sure everyone else does, too, but… come out of this okay, okay?”

Spencer hesitated.  And then he wrapped his hand around yours and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles ever so briefly.

“I will.  I promise.”

The elevator bell dinged.  You’d reached the parking lot.  Spencer let go of your hand with a different kind of hesitation.  

“I’ll see you soon,” he offered, “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Spencer disappeared into the parking lot, dashing out of sight and into danger.  You stood there, watching until the elevator doors slid shut and that infernal box pulled you back up again.  The humming metal lights above and the clanking metal around you harmonized into the perfect soundscape for your empty mind.

Spencer was heading into danger, as he always did.  You were returning to serve your community, as you always did.  Spencer might not come back, and you would always remain, and you realized that when the case was over, he would go back to Quantico with the BAU, and you probably wouldn’t see him ever again.

And it broke your heart a little bit.  Maybe more than a little bit.  A little bit, perhaps.

You were a long way from, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, go die,” indeed.

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, @ghostatrixx, @reiding-writing, @mywellspringoflife, @80katie, @ms-ks-world, @logicalhorror if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, pls let me know!! if you would like to be tagged and aren't, also let me know!!

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Spencer WIP

Photo credit to @reidgif

Well well well, guess who came up with another brutal idea for Spencer x Reader. I'm going to put them through the ringer in this one yet again. The fic is going to be called Dolls World and I can't wait to write it. Before that though I need to finish my most recent Aaron fic, Unsweetened Lemonade.

Then I also have Emily and Derek fic ideas that I want to get too as well. I've mostly been writing for Aaron and Spence and I think it will be good for me to switch it up a bit before going to this.

I hope you are ready for some heartbreak in the next month(s).

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Tag list: @mandarinmoons @spencerreidsreads

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[christiangeistdorfer]

COLIN MCRAE & DEREK RINGER at the 1991 RAC RALLY

[sectoralchromatics]

COLIN MCRAE and DEREK RINGER with the Subaru Legacy RS at 1993 ACROPOLIS RALLY

[crazybagelbitch]

SORRY I FORGOT TO GIVE A PROMPT!! I’m clinically stupid. But for Hotch and Garcia as father/daughter platonic duo; “You came?” “You called” is my favourite prompt ever. Maybe Hotch rescues Garcia from an awful date or from Strauss’ wrath over something garcia definitely did but does not deserve punishment for

Penelope knows this is stupid. She knows that she could probably handle this herself and not have to interrupt her sleeping boss with this nonsense. Derek would normally be the first person she would call in a situation like this, but while they'll always be close friends with a deep adoration for another, it's different now that he's left the team and he has a new baby. He needs some space, and as much as she hates it, she has to respect it.

She could call JJ or Emily and they would come in a heartbeat. They're two kickass women who she knows would do anything for her, but something about it doesn't feel right. As much as she doesn't want to admit it, there's a certain comfort she needs at the moment and only one person, at least one person who is still alive, can give her that.

Wincing, she pulls up his contact and hits dial.

It's 3 am but she knows they all sleep with their ringers up high, a consequence of the job they work.

"Garcia?" he picks up after a few rings, sounding somehow both sleepy and 100% alert, "What's wrong? Do we have another case?"

There was a time when his second question would only ever be directed at JJ and not her, and it makes her feel sad and happy and proud and nostalgic all at once.

"N-No," she whimpers, "No, I'm sorry it's much less important than that. I shouldn't have e-even called you, I'm sure it'll be fine. Go back to sleep. Goodnight, sir!"

"Garcia."

It's not just her name, it's a command.

"Yes?"

"What's going on?"

"I-I lost him, but I was walking home from a bar and this drunk guy was following me. I ran him off b-but I uh, I was running in heels and now I slipped and my ankle is-- well, it's not broken but it hurts and could you please come and get me?"

She's met with silence for a long moment and is worried she's going to get told no and to handle things herself like a big girl, but then she hears movement and shoes being put on in the background and her heart swells with gratitude.

"Where are you? Drop me a pin. Are you laying on the ground somewhere?"

"Sitting on a bench," she mumbles pitifully, sending him her location, "I really am so sorry, sir."

"Stop apologizing. I'll be there in ten; stay on the line."

On instinct, as a woman alone in the dark of night, she feels scared when she sees a car approaching, before the car gets close enough that she recognizes it.

"You came!" she exclaims in relief when he opens up his car door, rushing over to her.

"You called," he says simply, gently probing her ankle, "Garcia, I know I may be incredibly rough around the edges at times, but you have to know I would never leave you hurt and alone in the middle of the night."

"Where's Jack?" she sniffles, overcome with a mix of several emotions and the physical pain of Hotch touching her sprained ankle.

"He's still with Jessica, and even if he hadn't been, I would have still come to get you. He's still at the age where he'd forgive me for anything, even a 3 am field trip, if I bribed him with McDonalds."

"Thank you."

"I'm glad you called," he says with a nod, "I don't think it's broken, either. You still should get it looked at by a doctor, but that can wait until it's a decent hour of day. Come on, I'll help you up."

"You're my hero, sir."

[persimnon]

my man derek has been through the ringer

[scotty-bloke]

[forensicated]

04x19 - Community Relations

TW: Racism in terms of the 80's when written

Pete and Ken visit a young mother who has agreed to let the police sit in her shed to observe the goings on at the garages behind them. She has her mother over who is NOT happy about the police being called. Having said that, she seems angry about everything. They're using her shed to gather evidence of stolen motorbikes going in and ringers coming out of one garage in particular before applying for a warrant. Pete moans about having to spend hours sitting in a shed with a Ken and a bible. He mocks Ken for his Christianity claiming 'he's waiting to be saved' and Pete's too busy reading his bible to do it. Ken suggests they go for a pint after work if he really wants to talk. "Oooh... have to book an audience do I?!" Pete smirks.

Derek drives to an important council meeting whilst listening to LBC. He's in place of Brownlow who is 'boozing his way around France'.

Alec relaxes in CAD with Viv and WPC Extra. Yorkie calls for help on the Jasmine Allen Estate for the arrest of a violent suspect.

Pete suggests the obbo is a waste of time, especially for him, and that it's CID or the TSG who should be doing it. He then suggests they should just raid the garage and the gaff of who they're watching. Ken points out they have no evidence but Pete says that's the whole point of searching - you find the evidence. "Stitch him up you mean." "Too right, why should villains get away with it just because the truth can't keep up with them?"

Yorkie brings in his suspect and tells Christine that it took 4 of them to pin him down and he was flying high on drugs. He collapses before he can be processed and an ambulance is called.

Pete is bored as nothing has happened. He suggests he might search the garage himself when it gets dark. He asks Ken if he'd grass him up. Ken says no but Pete scoffs and says he knows he would. "You have to tell the truth. You're a Christian, Melvin." Ken keeps calm. "I wouldn't grass you up, I'd just stop you." Pete continues to wind Ken up, snatching his bible from him and mocking his religion. "I'm not against minimal violence." Ken says, eying him off.

The tension is broken by the husband returning home. He tells them the suspect being late means that he's gotten big business.

At the council meeting, one of the youth workers explains that the information leaflets are not accessible enough to those who speak different languages. The old white male response is predictable. "They should learn English then." The council leader stops the rant and says Derek will look into producing multi-lingual leaflets. The old man mutters. "They'll be turning St Paul's into a mosque soon." Derek ignores him and tries to talk about Crimestoppers but they're interrupted by the refreshments being delivered. An elderly lady is asked 'to be mother' and the youth worker asks why a man can't do it for once. The meeting descends into chaos.

Christine and Yorkie perform CPR on the suspect whilst they wait for the ambulance but it is too late. The man's friends and family are in the front office and are kicking off to be allowed to see him but don't know that he has collapsed or died yet.

Ken offers Pete one of his sandwiches as Pete has left his bag of food and 'entertainment' at the station. Pete asks if they're sardine sandwiches, making a joke out of 'loaves and fishes'. He then says he doesn't know why Ken joined the police, surely he can't be a Christian and a copper. Ken says there's no difference between God's law and Man's law and he doesn't get how people can deal with their job and not be Christian. Pete tries to wind him up about Satan and Ken says he does believe in the power of evil. They are distracted by a loud crash and are showered in glass from the window. The children playing outside the garages have accidentally smashed the glass with their ball.

The meeting has moved to talk about drug dealing on the Jasmine Allen and how the police are pushing a massive operation to drive it from Sun Hill. It appears to be popular, especially amongst the residents and shopkeepers on the estate. It isn't amongst the youth leaders however who tell them their high-profile operation simply means the black residents are under constant suspicion of being dealers and they're being stopped and searched frequently. Derek tactfully suggests that they have evidence that the same argument is used by a small number of dealers to hide their criminal activity.

The angry mother/grandmother shouts that the boy who broke the shed window did it on purpose. Her son-in-law stops her from berating the children and says it was an accident and to leave the kids alone. She then starts asking him what the man who the police are watching have done to him. He says nothing, so she asks why he's letting 'Babylon' spy on him. He tells her he doesn't like thieves and suggests she go back inside for her dinner.

The doctor pronounces Yorkie's suspect dead. Yorkie explains to Christine that they arrested him after he was trying to break down the door of his ex. She was petrified and he was as high as a kite. He promises her he was arrested exactly by the book. The angry group of friends and family of the man is growing outside and they're trying to break into the yard. Christine asks for the man's father to be brought in to see her whilst she waits for Derek to return.

One of the older women suggests the police should be armed and that the youth workers use the meetings to further their anti-police agendas. The youth workers pack up and walk out, not wanting to listen to them anymore. The chairman berates the first woman for purposely winding others up and then she walks out too!

Christine takes the prisoner's father to see his son's body. She explains there will be a coroner's report but his son died of heart failure that was brought on by his use of drugs. She promises him he has not been ill-treated at any point during or after his arrest. The man remains silent and Christine stresses that there is a worrying situation developing outside the station by people who will use his son's death as an excuse for violence and upset even if they don't know him. The man turns, finally speaking with an obviously broken heart, telling Christine that his son had been taking drugs since he was 10 years old. He then leaves the room.

The woman continues moaning at her son-in-law for letting the police use his shed as Pete lets himself in the back of the house. She insists it's wrong because they're black and so is the suspect. She shouts that he isn't fit to be the baby's father and she'll find the kids painted white one day. The man storms upstairs and throws down the toys that the boy's grandma has purchased whilst Pete makes a call and ensures that his date is still okay for half 10 that night. He then tries to stop the father and calm him down and ends up landing flat on his arse. Ken laughs and then helps him to his feet.

Pete and Ken return the kid's toys to where they were as the husband comforts his wife. The station calls through to Ken and he explains that they were sorting out a domestic when they'd been being called earlier and that they haven't seen anything of the suspected bike thief yet - just as he looks outside and sees the garage door close but no idea of what's behind it.

[Side note: Apparently the CAD WPC Extra is called Monica]

[the-invisible-queer]

"You can't stop them, Derek. No one can stop them."

Did they know this was gonna be Shemar's final season?

Because they really put Derek through the ringer this season 😭

No wonder the man said peace out

AND IT HASNT EVEN GOTTEN TO THE SPICY YET

[lightningmcqueenstan]

why does derek get put through the absolute ringer??? 

[lboogie1906]

Sean Patrick Thomas (born December 17, 1970) is an actor. He is known for his role as Derek Reynolds in Save the Last Dance and as Jimmy James in Barbershop (2002), Barbershop 2: Back in Business (2004), and Barbershop: The Next Cut (2016), as well as his television role as Detective Temple Page in The District and as Professor Macalester in Vixen (2015–2016). He was born in DC., the son of emigrants from Guyana. He was raised in Wilmington, Delaware, the son of Cheryl, a financial analyst for DuPont, and Carlton Thomas, an engineer who worked for DuPont. He graduated from Brandywine High School in Delaware and attended the University of Virginia. He intended to study law, but upon auditioning for a role in the film A Raisin in the Sun, he changed directions and decided to attend NYU's Graduate Acting Program at the Tisch School of the Arts which graduated. He married actress Aonika Laurent (2006). The couple has two children. He began appearing in screen roles in the mid-1990s and had minor roles in several films, including Conspiracy Theory (1997), Can't Hardly Wait (1998), and Cruel Intentions (1999). He played the recurring character Alan Townsend on Reaper. He originated the recurring character of Karl Dupree on Lie to Me. In 2009, he took to the stage, playing the title role in Othello for the Theatre for a New Audience in New York. This production moved to the Intiman Theatre in Seattle for the summer. In 2012, he worked in Ringer. He was cast as Cyborg for Justice League: Throne of Atlantis. He portrayed Dr. Michael Cayle in Deep in the Darkness. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence https://www.instagram.com/p/CmRIAz5OiVP/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[usatrendfox]

Raiders RB Josh Jacobs returns after leaving with a hand injury

Raiders RB Josh Jacobs returns after leaving with a hand injury, NFL’s driving rusher isn’t letting a hand injury kept him out of Thursday night’s down.

Las Vegas Marauders running back Josh Jacobs passed on the game momentarily because of a hand injury, yet returned against the Los Angeles Rams.

Following a 15-yard run in the second from last quarter, Jacobs cracked down on the turf with his right hand, seeming to move up on his pinky finger. On the sideline, Jacobs should have been visible in noticeable distress as his fingers were taped and he attempted to squeeze them into a glove. He in this way passed on to the storage space, however, got back to the sideline and the game in the wake of missing one drive.

Jacobs, who had 19 conveys for 73 yards and the game’s just score before his leave drives the association in hurrying with in excess of 1,300 yards. He was supplanted on the following drive by a new kid on the block Zamir White.

Entering Thursday, Jacobs was problematic for a third back-to-back week with a calf injury and is presently managing a hand illness.

Coming into the game, quarterback Derek Carr was the group’s second-driving rusher with only 17 conveys for 77 yards. A ringer cow back in an NFL universe of surging councils, Jacobs is essential to the Bandits’ offense most definitely, and however he got back to the game, his hand – – alongside his calf – – bears checking.

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