#criminal minds fanfction
Text
Dr. Reid's Lonely Hearts Club
Genre: smut, light fluff at the end
Pairing: spencer x hotch x fem!BAU!reader
word count: 6,650
cw: threesome, vaginal penetration, facefucking, light bondage, slight degradation, alcohol consumption
A/N: this is just absolutely pure filth and I'm both sorry and not sorry. Happy Valentine's to all singles out there surviving on self insert smut fics!
Summary: When everyone gets the evening off, only three people remain in the office, the lonely hearts come together to not feel so alone on the most romantic day of the year.
Tag list: @ssamorganhotchner @hotchxreid @cassiemartzz @supercriminalbean @evee87
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Tap, tap, tap, tap.
“Jesus, Reid! Can you stop that?!” Emily yelled towards the young genius, and he ended up jumping in fear on his own chair. The poor guy was simply tapping his pen against the surface of the desk while he pondered over some details of the case they had just wrapped up. “Sorry.” Emily said again once he noticed both Morgan and Hotch coming out of their offices to oversee the ruckus on the bullpen “Sorry, Spencer, I’m just a little antsy, I have a date tonight and I’m really hoping I don’t need to cancel it. Sorry, everyone.” She said again looking apologetically at the rest of the coworkers.
“Alright, enough is enough.” Hotch mentioned from the handrail outside his door “It’s 5p.m., we’re clearly not getting a new case tonight, and any paperwork left can be finished tomorrow. Anyone with Valentine’s Day plans can go home. Have a lovely evening.” your boss waved his hand dismissingly, and you watched as almost every person bolted out of their seats and towards the elevator. You waved goodbye at your girlfriends shouting ‘bye!’ and ‘have a great night!’ with bright smiles on their way out.
Hotch went back into his office, and only Spencer and you remained by your desks, exchanging equally disappointed looks. “No plans?” you asked.
“Have I ever had plans?” Reid answered with a slightly embarrassed smile. You offered him one of your own and a nod in agreement before going back to the files on the wooden surface. You reached to grab a couple from Emily’s desk, if you were going to spend your night like that, might as well help your friends out; you would be able to check that favor in some other time. Spencer smiled at your actions and did the same with some of the files from JJ’s desk.
Aaron was shut inside his private workplace, devouring file after file of piled up work for what felt like two or three hours. With his eyes strained, he decided to take a walk to the kitchen and get some extra coffee to burn the midnight oil. When he stepped outside the door, however, he stopped right on his tracks. “What are you two doing?” he asked as he stared at Reid’s desk.
You had dragged your chair to be sitting on the other side of your friend’s table, the surface covered in different Chinese dishes still in their take-out containers, behind them a bottle of rum that was clearly drank from, and some Hershey’s kisses wrappers scattered around, you were laughing soundly together, talking about random Valentine’s Day experiences.
“Hey! Look who's finally out of the man cave!” you said with a smile, raising your hands in the air victoriously “We’re having ourselves a little Valentine’s Day dinner, courtesy of Dr. Reid’s Lonely Hearts Club, if you got a partner, you are not invited. Care to join us?” you added. Spencer was looking at him expectantly, and Hotch let out a defeated sigh before heading downstairs and pulling a chair to sit in front of the two of you. You handed him a container with a pair of chopsticks on top. “Pekin duck. I know you like it.” you mentioned.
“I don’t think the rum is a good idea.” he replied, grabbing the food from you.
“Come on, it’s after 8.” you complained.
“It is morally questionable, but since we’re off the clock we’re technically not breaking any rules. Not any that we can be reprimanded for, at least.” Reid added. “Plus, we got you scotch in case you didn’t want rum.” he continued, bending his body to pick up a bottle of acceptable whiskey from the floor.
“Relax, Hotch, no boss scolding, no dad speeches, just friends making each other company on the loneliest night for single people.” as you spoke, you were opening the bottle of his preferred liquor and pouring a glass, or rather a coffee mug, with a couple ice cubes. After having served a considerable amount, you handed him the mug and your hand squeezed his thigh in a friendly manner, however a little bit higher than you usually would. He scoffed at the comment and took a sip out of the container.
“How come you don’t have any plans tonight?” your boss asked.
“I usually spend Valentine’s Day with my mom, but I couldn’t get a ticket without making sure we would be in town.” Spencer said absentmindedly while he rummaged through his food. Both of you looked at him questioningly, and he responded with a confused stare.
Hotch gave up without even trying to explain that the question wasn’t, obviously, directed at him, instead his head turned towards you “and how come you don’t have plans tonight?” he asked once again.
“Nuh-uh” you answered with a sarcastic tone “If we’re drinking, I’m not answering anything unless we play a game.”
“A game? What, are we 15?” Hotch asked.
“I was thinking a little bit more like 20, you know, r-rated questions might be included” you answered.
“So, we’re not horny teenagers, we’re horny college kids.” your boss reiterated, and you nodded along “and you’re okay with this?” he turned to Spencer to double check.
“I never really got to play drinking games in college, so this should be interesting” his head wobbled excitedly.
“That’s because you were fourteen, Reid,” you joked, earning a chuckle from Hotch in the process “Okay fellas, since it’s Valentine’s let’s go with a spicy game, so we have ‘Never have I ever’, ‘Strip poker’, or ‘Truth or Dare’. Spencer, since it’s your first time, why don’t you choose first?”
Your partner fiddled with the chopsticks in his hands, lips pursed pretending to ever consider it “Strip poker.” he stated with an innocent and hopeful smile. You and Aaron broke into a surprised and nervous laugh, you exchanged looks for a second and decided that, well, even if stripping in your office wasn’t on your bucket-list, it would still make an interesting anecdote.
Big mistake. You forgot two very important facts: one, doctor Reid was banned from every casino in Las Vegas, and two, when men play this game with a woman involved, they tend to team up with a very clear purpose in mind. After just ten minutes of playing, your bra was on full display, blazer, blouse and shoes long gone, yet managing to keep your lower clothing intact. Hotch remained with his white button-up shirt and pants, and Reid only having lost as much as his sweater vest.
“Full house.” Aaron said as he opened his cards, clearly beating Reid’s straight. He turned to look at you, eyeing your last garment, but a pleading expression appeared on your face and caused him to chuckle. “Alright, I’m using my winning privileges to change the game. Let’s do Never Haver I ever.” you put your hands together thankfully, and Spencer huffed his cheeks in disappointment.
You took a moment to top everyone’s drink up, and after you had taken a sip, you began to talk “Never have I ever had a sexual fantasy with someone from the office.” you said and watched with amusement how both of your friends sipped at their drinks, regardless of you being the question host, you would be lying if you said you hadn’t, so you had to take a sip was well.
“Never have I ever gotten a lap dance.” was Spencer’s turn to speak, and both your boss and you had to drink. He appeared to be embarrassed at the fact of being the only one left out, and you chuckled at his cute expression.
“Never have I ever…” Hotch began “…had a threesome.” there was a bit of an awkward silence as you stared at each other intently, noticing how none of you would bring the mug to your lips.
“Never have I ever wanted a threesome.” you dared to ask during your turn, and in perfect unison the three of you downed a bit of your beverages. There was an exchange of looks afterwards, and your brains all seemed to be working in the same direction.
“Never have I ever felt sexual attraction for a person in this room.” Reid asked, and yet again the entire group drank up.
Hotch’s throat cleared up, and being the voice of reason, aware that you were still in an FBI building, he decided to take the questioning in another direction. “Never have I ever done a body shot.” he said.
“Taken off of me? Or me taking it from someone else’s body?” you asked trying to clarify the question “Actually, you know what? Doesn’t matter, just remembered I’ve done both.” you answered yourself nonchalantly and proceeded to take the corresponding liquid; to your surprise, however, you saw how both of your companions remained still. “Wait, for real?” you asked, taking turns to look at both of them.
Spencer simply shook his head, lips pursed, and Hotch shrugged it off “I wasn’t really a frat party guy.” the older man admitted.
“Come on. Unacceptable.” you stood up and grabbed the bottle of rum in your hands. You looked around, Spencer’s desk was a mess, so you decided to move over to Emily’s ‘she will understand’ you told yourself. The two men followed you with puzzled expressions. You laid down on top of your friend’s workspace, still shirtless, and pointed in the direction of your boss “Let’s go old school for you.” you said with a smirk as you bent the bottle over your stomach, letting some of the liquid fall and spill over your belly button.
Hotch cocked an eyebrow, but curiosity got the best of him. He unbuttoned the top part of his shirt, a clear attempt to not mess it up, and took a step closer. You could feel his lips land on your stomach, and the way his tongue dug in the concave area caused a slight moan to come out of your mouth, your hand lowering to land on the nape of his neck, keeping his head in place. After he was done sucking the liquid, he pressed a couple of open mouthed kisses higher up your stomach, and stopped himself right before your chest.
“I can see the appeal of that.” he muttered while wiping his mouth to get rid of some of the dripping liquor. He turned to look at Reid, who was watching the situation with a flustered face, and signaled for him to take his turn. Startled, the blond man hurried to your side, but before he let the fluid down your body, you darted up to be sitting instead.
“Hold on, I have something else in mind for the doctor.” you stopped him, a mischievous smile on your face. You fixed your position and tilted your head to expose the right side of your neck, your finger pointed at the base, indicating that he should put his mouth there. He complied to your instructions, positioning his head at the base with an open mouth, he proceeded to tilt the bottle letting the rum slide down the side of your neck directly into it. Once he had enough of the drink, he laid the bottle back onto the desk, his hands instinctively gripped the sides of your hips to keep you still as he licked the trail of wetness the alcohol had left on your neck; he mimicked Aaron’s actions and sneaked a couple of nibbles to the sides of your neck. In the heat of the moment, and with his blood rushing everywhere, he lifted his head and attempted to capture your lips in a kiss.
Your reflexes were fast, and before he could land them on you, your hand came in between. “Ah, ah!” you exclaimed with provocation in your voice “If you want to go there, then we’re going to have to change the game.” you pushed him slightly by his chest and he retracted his hands, stepping back with a slight hint of embarrassment in his face, at which Hotch smirked; he found fascinating how you had him on his toes since the very first moment. “That leaves us with Truth or Dare, doesn’t it?” you clarified “Since it’s my turn, I’ll go first. Say, Reid, Truth or dare?” you turned to face the slender figure in front of you.
“Truth.” he said convincedly, his hands undoing a couple of his buttons to allow for the cool air to enter.
“Out of every girl in the office, who would you like to fuck the most?” you batted your eyes at him, your legs swinging as they hung from the desk you were still sitting on.
He took a second and licked his lips before he answered, apparently unwavering “You.” he let out after some thought.
Next to you, you could hear Aaron scoff “Playboy.” he muttered “We know it’s JJ.” he added.
“A liar, just like any other man” you joked, but instead a frown formed on the doctor’s face.
“Alright, enough.” he fixed his eyes on yours “Truth or dare?” he asked.
“Dare” you said with a cocky smile.
“Take off those pants.” Spencer commanded. Hotch raised his eyebrows, intrigued by the proposal.
“You’ve been waiting for that since strip poker, haven’t you?” you snarked at him “Okay, pretty boy, but I get to help you strike one of your ‘never have I ever’ experiences.” Without further explanation, you hopped off the surface and took his hand to pull him along as you walked to your chairs. The second you were in front of them, you pushed him back until his legs hit the edge of the seat, forcing him to fall onto it. Before Spencer could understand what was happening, your back was already facing him, and your ass was grinding on his lap.
Hotch had taken his seat as well, legs spread open with his hand dangerously close to his own crotch, simply admiring the way you moved on top of the youngest. Your body rolled as you danced teasingly over Reid, your pants slowly coming further down until your ass was on full display, only covered by the panties you had chosen for that day. You turned yet again to lay your knees on each side of the seat, straddling his front, your eyes lustfully staring into his as your fingers worked to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt. “And to prove you I’m a good sport, I’m going to throw in something extra.” you smiled at him and shortly your lips were onto his, from the beginning, the kiss was sloppy and open-mouthed, your tongues tangling together as they moved hungrily.
His hands, out of habit, lifted to land on your ass, and you swatted at them with a disapproving sound. “I didn’t say you could touch.” he winced in protest at your words, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to keep them to himself. Instead, you reached out for the desk in which your belongings still laid and took a hold of the handcuffs you used to carry. You distracted him with your lips once again, having him focusing only on the kiss, he didn’t notice when your hands caressed down his arms to place them behind the chair, and it wasn’t until he heard the clicking of the cuffs that he broke away from it.
“What are you doing?” he asked with startled eyes.
“Making sure you behave.” you answered, your head tilting to have your mouth on the side of his neck instead, nibbling on a spot like he had done before on yours. His eyes fluttered closed, just allowing himself to enjoy the warm sensation of your tongue on his skin, your hips occasionally rolling on his crotch, which felt tighter by the second.
“Hey, Reid” the both of you were slightly startled by Hotch’s voice coming behind you, but you kept going into providing your friend some friction; Spencer on the other hand replied with a questioning hum “Truth or dare?” Aaron asked.
“D-Dare” he barely managed to stutter out. The second he got his answer, the boss stood up from his seat, his hands working on undoing the pieces of clothing that were holding his member captive. Once his underwear was moved aside, his cock slapped against his stomach, slightly pink from the way he was rubbing it over his pants during your little lap dance.
He walked in your direction and landed a hand on your ass gently, giving it a light squeeze to enjoy the sensation of your soft skin, then they travelled up to grab the hem of your panties, pulling them down to your thigh level. He gripped at your hips to draw them up, causing your ass to perk up and your clothed chest to be pressed further against Reid’s. His fingers curiously travelled in between your legs, and you could feel his thumb press flat against your slippery slick.
Your lips had moved back to Spencer’s, and a moan got caught up on your throat at Aaron’s touch. You broke the kiss to look back with surprise in your eyes. You watched him bring the fluid-covered thumb to his mouth and taste you with utter excitement.
“I dare you to watch me fuck her first.” he stated with his eyes completely fixed on yours as he finished removing the shirt that still covered his torso. You couldn’t really process what he had just said, and what was even more puzzling was, now that you had gotten a good look at his dick, how were you going to take all of him?
He didn’t give you much time to keep thinking before you could feel him entering you. His hand pumping the base of his own member until it was covered by your pussy, however, he allowed a couple of seconds for you to get used to his size. As you felt him slide into you, your hands traveled up to tangle on Spencer’s hair, clutching on it for dear life, your head laid on his shoulder and you let out a loud, high pitched moan, at the feeling of being full of your boss.
You could hear Spencer wiggle beneath you, trying to get rid of the cuffs that were holding him back. He exchanged a look with Hotch, an almost offended one, and the older man answered with pressing his index finger to his lips, indicating the younger to keep quiet “Watch and learn.” with those words, his hips began to move. He was slow and gentle at first, causing you to be panting against your friend’s neck softly, but not long after his pace began to pick up.
The entire office was quiet not being for the loud smacks of Aaron’s balls against your skin. His cock hitting your deepest sides over and over again. You held onto Reid for balance, your hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders to prop yourself up. You face was right in front of him, your mouth slightly parted open letting the noises flow, your forehead laid on top of his, and you stared into his eyes, showing you just how good your boss was fucking you.
You let out a cry after a particularly rough thrust that Hotch hit you with, and Spencer took the advantage to lean up and press his lips back onto yours, nibbling and twisting his tongue around like his life depended on it. He didn’t like feeling left out, so he was trying his best to shower every bit of the skin he had access to with sloppy and wet kisses.
Perhaps Hotch was going too hard on him, his dick still pounding against you at a steady pace, and having his subordinate confined to a chair, fucking the girl he clearly liked. With a rough tug, he ripped the safety pins of your bra open, and from the movement of having your hips repeatedly pummeled, they bounced off the garment on their own. You leaned forward so they would be dangling over Spencer’s face, the new angle not only allowing your dark-haired partner to access new angles, but also gave the doctor chance to catch one of your nipples into his mouth.
He was sloppy, but never carless, his tongue moved around your breast, hungrily, the noises of sucking and popping filling your ears along with Aaron’s growls that, you noticed, had began to be much deeper. A wave of confidence hit you at the desperation that you were making him feel, and with Spencer busy with your chest, you turned your head around, a smug, shitty smirk on your face. “Truth or dare, Aaron?” you asked.
“Dare.” he said without flinching, his eyes fixed on you, his hips keeping the steady, although slightly erratic pace.
“I dare you to make me cum before you do. Bet you can’t do it with how close you are.” your tone was not only daring, buck even mocking.
One thing about Aaron Hotchner, he liked abiding by the law, but he did not enjoy being told what to do, or being challenged in any way, it hurt his ego, and it brought out the worst in him. Without warning, he landed a loud smack on your ass, same one that caused a loud wince out of your mouth “Shit, Aaron!” you were about to turn around and complain at the surprising, yet not unwelcome, roughness, but the slight pain of your hair being pulled shut you up. He grabbed you by the head to pull you upwards and away from Reid’s lap; you stumbled a bit as you got back on your feet, and he made sure to wrap his arm around your waist to keep you from falling down, or his dick from slipping out. In a quick motion, you removed the bra that kept dangling from your arms and ended up kicking down the panties that had slipped down to your knees, leaving you bare naked in front of Spencer who was staring from his restricted seat. Aaron’s hand moved from your hair to your chin, turning your face in his direction to be able to attack your mouth with his, his tongue forced it’s way in and you almost choked at the lack of air. The hand around your waist kept you secured as he kept thrusting into you, your moans coming out from your throat directly into his mouth; said hand slipped further down, making its way in between your legs to have his index finger rub around your clit.
His hips snapped faster each time, but the circles drawn around your sensitive nub remained to a steady, slightly slow pace. Your knees began to give in, and he was holding you up by the mere use of his hand against your pussy. Spencer could only observe from a few steps away, how another man, your boss nonetheless, was causing you so much bliss. His dick began to twitch inside his pants, and his hips rolled trying to get friction, any source of friction, from them.
One of your hands clung from Aaron’s neck, while the other tried to keep balance by gripping onto the desk. You began to clench around Hotch, who was already struggling to keep his noises at bay, releasing them right into your mouth. “Aaron…” you moaned against his lips, letting him know that you were close. His finger quickened its pace on your clit, you began to clench repeatedly, and your stomach began to tighten, and just before you could feel the sweet release of your climax, Aaron Hotchner pulled out of you, his hand leaving your sensitive area, and his lips breaking away.
You yelled a curse in his direction, and he grabbed you by the wrist in response, his face visibly annoyed since, for the sake of his teasing, he had accidentally denied his own orgasm. He tugged on your hand before you could protest any longer and directed you to Reid, making a sign with his hand for you to kneel down, and you obeyed. Without much as a word, and Spencer dumbfoundedly looking down at you, he walked around the chair with the cuff keys that he took from the desk, kneeled, and freed Reid’s hands from their confinement; the youngster took a second to rub at his hands that had gone slightly numb and observed the actions of your boss. Hotch walked behind you and reached for your arms, pulling both behind your back, you also didn’t quite comprehend what was going on, but you were so focused on Spencer’s pretty face, his swollen lips from the kissing, and the uncomfortable shuffle he made to try and satisfy his need for attention down there that you didn’t care about whatever Aaron was doing to you.
“You created this little club to not spend Valentine’s alone, didn’t you, Reid?” he said in the blond man’s direction “And yet, you’re the only one unattended. That doesn’t seem fair, does it? She went around parading another man fucking her, with only a couple of kisses to keep you going.” he shook his head disapprovingly, his hand then moved to the back of your head, and gently pushed it forward, allowing your cheek to rest on Spencer’s bulge. “He even paid for the food, time to pay him back, treat him nicely.” he commanded.
Your eyes had locked with Reid’s the entire time. You were more than pleased to be of service to him, he deserved to be praised, and treated, like nothing but a king, and you intended to do so. You wiggled your body to be further in between his legs and tilted your head up, staring at him as you opened your mouth, showing him that you were ready to take him in. His heart felt like jumping off his chest, and he used his newly-freed hands to cup your face, bend down, and land a passionate kiss on your lips. He was softer compared to Hotch, tender even, as he had been waiting his entire life to do that, even if he had done it minutes before.
After he was satisfied, he pulled back to fiddle with his pants. Once he moved his boxers aside, his member darted out, accidentally landing right across your face. You heard him mutter a quiet ‘sorry’ and you could see the red tint adorning his face again. You giggled to yourself and tilted your head to finally have his tip inside your mouth. You took a tentative, gentle suck at it, and the high pitched moan that he let out was all the encouragement you needed to keep going. You began to bob up and down, making sure to take more of him each time. His own head was thrown back, eyes closed as he let himself be pleasured.
In the meantime, Aaron kneeled right behind you. He double checked that the cuffs weren’t too tight, the intention was never to hurt you, and once he got confirmation, he positioned his still hard dick at the height of your hands still forced together. His fingers guided yours gently to wrap around his shaft, and he began to thrust slowly into it. You could feel his tip hit your back time and again as he fucked your tied-up hands slow enough to keep his erection, but not so fast to make himself come.
Spencer’s moans were a higher pitch and came out more repeatedly. His hands had moved your hair and he was helping you move your head back and forth. The excitement kept running through your veins, you could barely move, your knees hurting a little bit from being on the floor, but there was nothing you could do about it, and the mere feeling of being bound to provide these men with pleasure was keeping you on the edge, still unable to release.
Reid’s grip tightened around your hair, and you could feel how he kept you still. You braced yourself for the thrusts that were about to come, and they did not disappoint. With every jump of his hip, you could feel him hit the backside of your mouth, dangerously close to going into your throat. “You’re taking me so well, so fucking good.” the blond man praised, and your eyes traveled up in attempt to see him, his own met your sight, and he took a second to push a strand of hair behind your ear. His hips buckled up a couple more times, with your lips tightening around him. You wanted to taste him, you were eager to do so, but alas these men had entirely different plans for you.
As he felt his stomach cramping in pleasure, Spencer decided to remove himself from your mouth, to which you yet again complained. He signaled Hotch to get up, and he gently helped you stand by grabbing you around the shoulders. “I wanted to taste you!” you cried out with a huff of your cheeks, turning your head to look at Reid.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you will get the chance, I’m nowhere near done.” he directed you to Emily’s desk once again, poor girl will have to throw away the whole thing by the time the night ends, and he guided you as if he was transporting an unsub to a holding cell, Hotch following behind. His hand landed on your head and he forced it forward to have you bent over the wooden surface, your ass out in his direction. He positioned himself at your entrance and easily began to push in. You let out a moan of pure bliss at the sensation of being filled again, this time around with Spencer’s pinkish cock.
His thrusts were gentle compared to Aaron’s, but the pace was rather quicker and deep, he was desperate to feel you. One of his hands landed on the mark that his boss had previously left on you, squeezing it with what seemed almost like rage. The other hand tangled itself on the chain of the cuffs, using it as support to continue pulling your body against his hips. You began to whimper once again, almost like cries, from feeling so close, so fast, more intense than before.
“If you don’t mind…” Hotch’s voice snapped you out of your own mind “…I’ll be using this side” your body was positioned close to the edge, your cheek laying on the surface facing the hall; Hotch stood in front of your mouth, guiding the tip to your lips, not quite pushing in yet. The opening of your mouth was the approval he needed to finally slide his length in the slippery hole. Unlike Spencer, he wasn’t paying particular attention to how deep he went, his hips continuing to push trying to find the pleasure he had taken from himself moments before.
Down south, Spencer’s eyes were focused on your ass, it looked so magnificent, swallowing him in without protesting. He could feel you twitching, you felt heavenly to him, never did he imagine he would actually have the chance to fuck you, let alone have you whimper because of him, so desperately. He wanted to make you cum, to have you trembling in a way Hotch couldn’t do it. His fingers slid in between your thighs in a similar fashion, and his index yet again began paying attention to your sensitive bundle of nerves.
You were going on overdrive, your bottom half was getting attention everywhere, and your top could barely hold any air from the thick member using your mouth as his personal flesh light. “I’ve seen every landscape in this country,” Hotch began to say, his eyes staring tenderly down at you “and there’s no prettier sight than you like this, taking me all in.” the praise sent shockwaves all over your body, and your walls began to clench around Spencer.
He was trying to keep himself sane, not wanting to come just yet, he wanted to give you more pleasure, to have you wobbling even more. “Hey, truth or dare?” he asked in between grunts as he tapped on your back, letting you know the question was for you “If I remember correctly, it’s my turn.” he clarified. Aaron’s cock, however, was not giving you much of an opportunity to answer. You made random sounds around his length, and the vibrations gave him an extra wave of pleasure.
“She said ‘Truth’” your boss translated for him, a prideful smirk plastered all over his face, pleased with the fact that he was barely letting you speak.
“Whose dick tastes best?” Spencer shot Hotch a smug look and he replied with a shake of his head.
You pulled back, letting go of Aaron’s cock in attempt to answer the question “Yo-“ before you could even began the sentence, your boss’s hands guided your head into its previous position and thrusted his shaft back inside your mouth; you complied and continued swallowing your cheeks around it. It was Hotch’s turn to look smug, and Spencer chuckled at his actions.
The situation was becoming almost unbearable, you needed to come, you were so close, and here they were playing ‘who wore it best?’ with your mouth for a gown. Spencer seemed to notice your desperation when your eyes began to tear up. His hips changed positions, and it hit a spot so sweet you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your walls clenched around him, your mouth let go of Aaron’s dick to allow your voice to come through “Fuck, Spencer! Inside, come inside!” you begged as your release began to drip down your thigh.
Your partner obeyed your commands, and he pulled roughly on the cuffs to have his member all the way inside of you as he spilled his seed. You shut your eyes and smiled to yourself, it felt so good to be filled up, specially by someone you had wanted to fuck for so long. Light curses and a mention of your name left his lips, he gave a couple more thrusts trying to ride down his high, and finally pulled out of you.
Hotch had taken the lead on himself to let you enjoy your orgasm; he continued to jerk off at a fast pace in front of you, his tip basically rubbing the side of your face. You were about to take him back in when he moved, and you noticed he was walking towards your rear. Panic drew in your eyes, and you cried out beggingly “Aaron, please don’t, I can’t take anymore.” you whispered in his direction.
“It’ll be one second.” he said, and you braced yourself for yet another round of overstimulation. Instead, you felt how his tip slid in an out a couple of times, and he walked back to have his hips at the same level as your face. You watched in awe how his member was coated in what seemed like cum, and you looked up with surprise “If I remember correctly, you wanted to taste him” if your brain hadn’t been just freshly fucked, you would have given than man round three right there. You opened your mouth widely, and he pressed his shaft once again. He held you still by the head as he continued to thrust, considerably faster this time, and moments after he pushed deeply in, allowing his release to spill inside your mouth. He must have been pent up, because it became a little hard to hold all of it in. Your tongue rolled around, taking a second to taste both loads along with some of your own fluids.
He pulled back after he made sure everything was released, but his hand tugged at your chin to force it up and closed, not permitting that anything were to spill. “Truth or dare.” he asked as the final question of the game.
“Dare” you barely mumbled.
“Swallow.” was his last command, and you more than happily obliged.
Spencer stood in shock watching the scene, like whatever had taken over him had finally left his body. Hotch seemed to be the same, his stern glare softening once again to the relaxed one he had outside of work. Reid hurried to get the key and undid the bind on your hands, Hotch grabbed your shoulders and helped you straighten back up so you could be standing once again. “You okay?” he asked, tilting his head to get a better look at your face.
“I don’t think my throat is in the right place because of you, and you ask if I’m okay?” you snarked playfully. The three of you shared a laugh, and Hotch offered a sincere apology, which you shrugged off since it was not big deal, not like you didn’t enjoy it anyways. Spencer walked back to his desk to slide into his pants, suddenly self-conscious about his body being exposed, and threw his shirt loosely over his shoulders before starting to gather your clothes together.
Your boss reached for his jacket and laid it over your shoulders before he started to get dressed as well “Reid.” he said in a commanding voice, back to the boss demeanor he usually had “Help her get cleaned up and then take her home.” he turned at you instead “I don’t want you driving after that, got it?” his words made you blush slightly, he seemed like a completely different person, but you nodded in response.
“You’re not going out with us?” Spencer asked curiously.
“I need to oversee that the floor gets cleaned and Emiliy’s desk gets…” he made a pause, looking at the surface covered in sweat and other fluids “…burned down, hopefully” he joked. Both of you agreed with the statement, but before Reid could direct you to the office's bathroom, Hotch took a step forward in between the two of you “Hey,” he spoke up to get your attention, his hands laid gently on your face once it turned to him and he leaned in to place a gentle, but deep, kiss to your lips “thank you for tonight, I had a lovely evening.” he smiled as he spoke.
You tried your best to suppress a wide smile “Well,” you started “I would say ‘anytime’, but this club kind of only gets together once a year.” you joked.
“Can’t wait until next year, then.” he answered without even looking up as he revised the countless messages that he got while he was occupied. He patted Reid on the shoulder as a goodbye and headed back to his office.
After everything was clean on your body, and you didn’t look like you had just been attacked by hyenas, Spencer walked you out of the FBI building. The trip down the elevator being slightly too quiet for someone who had just moved your liver to a completely different position. Your legs began to wobble again, feeling like they were going to give in, and Spencer stepped closer to offer his body for support. “You can lean on me.” he said with a gentle smile, and you took his word “By the way, you still owe me one answer that, if I remember correctly, was cruelly taken from me.” he said as he chuckled recalling the scene.
You laughed along “Alright, rules are rules, do you want to ask the same question, or would you like to change it?”
“Actually, I think I’ll change it.” his arm darted out to surround your shoulders with it, making the position more stable for you “Would you like to do this again sometime? Minus Hotch, of course.” he diverted his gaze as he asked.
You tilted your head with surprise, yet another blush creeping at your face. “You mean, like, next Valentine’s?” you asked with genuine surprise.
“Well, that, or,” he chuckled to himself, finally daring to look back at you “next Friday? Preferably after dinner.”
There was no holding back the bright smile that appeared on your face, or the flutter in your stomach. Your head leaned on his shoulder, and you could feel his land on top of yours in a loving embrace.
“Deal.”
#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reif fanfic#spencer x you#spencer reid x you#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x you#i didnt proof read so im vry sorry ill edit later!!#happy valentines lonely people#fan fic: spencer#fanfic: spencer#fanfic: hotchner#fanfic: criminal minds
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HEY could you please do a jj and emily x reader sickfic 🫶
Cabin Fever
〖Summary: You're sick and are stuck on a jet.〗
〖Word Count: 1.4k〗
〖Pairing: Jemily x Sick Reader〗
〖Notes: Criminal Minds is my current obsession so I am perfectly happy to write this. In the future though if people throw in a prompt or two I can probably create a fic that's more suited to what you want :)〗
☾Masterlists☽
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
You had started to get sick two days into the case and were incredibly glad that this Unsub had been so easy to catch. With enough cold medicine and tea, you’d been able to stave off the worst of your illness for just long enough to put a killer behind bars.
Your girlfriends had noticed. The whole team had noticed. Even Garcia had been able to hear your congestion over the phone. You hadn’t really been trying to hide it. You were one of those people who got mushy when you got sick, you wanted to be held and taken care of.
Had you been home you would have jumped at the opportunity to be coddled but you were working and with work came a more professional relationship with your girlfriends, even if you were sharing a room. But with work came responsibility and all that.
Now at least you got to go home. You didn't have to look at the faces of dead people or interrogate psychopaths, you could just relax. The box of tissues in front of you was quickly running out with a small pile forming in a plastic bag beside you. Next to the box was a bottle of hand sanitizer, mostly there for Spencer’s peace of mind. The book you were reading had been set aside in favor of an audiobook and headphones, it was just too difficult to focus on the blurry words.
You’d been given occasional worried looks from the team and Hotch had set a mug of tea down in front of you about an hour ago, but you hadn’t touched it. As nice as the warm liquid would probably feel on your throat you just couldn’t do it. The idea of putting anything into your body made you nervous. It was normal for you when you were sick. Plus, you hated tea.
JJ, noticing that you were getting worse, stood from her spot on the couch beside Emily and walked over to you with a soft warm smile on her face. That was a common expression when she was worried but trying to act like she wasn’t.
“Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?” she asked, slipping into the seat beside you. You glanced over with glassy eyes and offered a tiny smile, desperately wanting to be anywhere but in the air. The pressure on the plane was wreaking hell on your sinuses, your head and face throbbed, and each jolt of turbulence was like a knife in your skin.
“Don’t feel great.” You admitted, your voice croaky and quiet. The blonde’s face twisted into a look of sympathy, and she reached out to take one of your shaky hands.
“Why don't you go sit with Em? She’s just reading a book; I don’t think she’ll mind some company.” She offered, glancing around at the mess around you. Her crystal blue eyes lingered on the ice-cold mug for an extra second longer than the rest. You could see the gears in her head turning but you weren’t sure where they were going. She knew from experience that you would not be consuming any hot leaf juice.
Emily looked up at the sound of her name, seeming as though she had no awareness of the situation prior. She was deep into a book that seemed to be in Russian which had probably captured her full attention. It wasn’t her best language, so she was taking every opportunity to get better. Mostly to beat Reid. The two apparently had a silent academic challenge thing going.
“Uhhh…” She hesitated, never having been one who really knew how to take care of sick people. The woman had very little experience with being taken care of, so she wasn’t always the best at it. It didn’t matter to you, you wanted her to hold you of course but you really didn’t need anything else.
JJ shot her a look that said, ‘do it or I’ll end you’ and Emily quickly scrambled into a sitting position so that you could take over most of the couch. She opened her arm and beckoned you over, hugging you tight when you crawled into her lap.
You sniffled thickly and a pained moan escaped your lips. Every part of your body ached and lying down seemed only to make it worse. Emily frowned down at you, not entirely sure what to do. JJ had wandered over to the back of the plane, going through the fridge to find something.
The others were all doing their own thing, collectively ignoring you. That was perfect because you really didn’t want attention from them. Especially not the facts. Never before had you been so glad that Reid was asleep.
“What can I do?” Your girlfriend muttered, lowering her voice for your benefit. You shrugged and shuddered, curling up more tightly against her. It didn’t soothe the pain in your muscles, but it temporarily stopped the shivering which made the pain worse.
Emily grabbed the blanket at your feet and pulled it up around you, doing the best that she could not to jostle you too much. She looked back over to JJ who had procured what she wanted and was (thankfully) returning to help.
“Sit up for a second love.” The media liaison coaxed, pulling you up gently with the help of Emily. She produced two small pills and your favorite color Gatorade, suppressing a smile at the amusement on your face. You were surprised that they had it, the only thing that you would drink when you were sick.
With little hesitation you took the pills, wondering why you hadn’t done so earlier. The fever that was currently doing the most damage probably had something to do with it, for some reason, you’d completely forgotten that things like Tylenol existed and had settled for cough medicine instead.
“Now, lay back down for a bit. We land in a few hours, try to get some sleep. I’m going to go work on wrapping some case notes up with Hotch, just take a nap on Em, okay?” She bent forward and kissed your hot dry forehead, mentally noting your temperature. Emily looked mildly alarmed but nodded when you turned to her, signaling that it was okay.
“Do you uh, want me to read? In English of course. It’ll be good to practice some translation.” she asked, patting the book that she had put to the side. You coughed quietly and rested your head in her lap, snuggling close. The worry melted off of her face and she rested one of her hands on the side of your head and began to stroke your cheek.
“If you want. M’just gonna lay here.” You mumbled, grabbing one of her legs to hug. Some part of you worried that she would leave and didn’t quite connect the facts that one she would never do that and two there was literally nowhere she could go.
“Alright. You rest, let me know if you need anything.” You closed your eyes as she picked her book back up and began to read silently, missing the smile from JJ. She’d been watching the exchange from afar, waiting to jump in just in case Emily fumbled it.
It wasn’t that she didn’t have faith in the profiler, it was just that she could be so incredibly awkward sometimes and JJ knew that what you really needed right now was someone to hold you. She itched to jump in and lie on your other side but the quicker she got her work done the better it would be when you finally got home.
“Everything okay?” Hotch asked, following JJ’s gaze. The blonde shook herself slightly and looked back down at the papers, sighing softly.
“Yeah. They’ll be okay. It’s probably the flu, I’m not sure if they got a shot this year. It’s been busy.” She breathed, dragging a hand across her face. The boss nodded sharply and returned to the work in front of him, not requiring any further explanation. That was good enough for JJ.
She went back to her work in silence, glancing up every so often to make sure that you and Emily were okay. While you felt like crap and the pressure in your body wasn’t allowing any level of comfort you knew that eventually you would. But for a while, you’d happily let yourself be cared for by these two wonderful women.
#fever#sick fanfic#sick fanfiction#sick reader#sickfic#fanfiction#ill#illness#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfction#criminal minds sickfic#criminal minds#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x y/n#emily prentiss x you#emily prentiss x reader#jemily x reader#jj x emily#jennifer jareau x reader#jennifer jareau x emily prentiss#jemily x sick reader#jennifer jareau x sick reader
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unhinged thought NSFW
need to be covered in blood and fucked from behind rn
#like knife to the throat type fucking#preferably clothes still kinda on#criminal minds#izzy hands#mbav#scream#benny weir#ofmd#spencer reid#loki fanfction#benny weir fanfic#scream imagines#scream franchise#skeet ulrich#billy x stu#scream 1996#billy loomis#billy loomis x reader#stu matcher x reader#stu macher#stu matcher x you#billy loomis imagines
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ooo, i just got an idea. how about a drabble about jj in 5x07 when she gets hit in the head with a shovel? 🙂
So, these have been in my box for ages. This is a JJ-with-a-concussion and Emily-caretaker fic.
———
The door to the jet’s tiny bathroom rattles and opens. JJ would turn and look over her shoulder if she thought she could. Her throat is in such a tight spasm that it feels brittle and fibrous and in danger of snapping. She settles for coughing out words into the shallow dish of the toilet.
“I thought... That was locked...”
“Yeah, well.” Emily steps sideways into JJ’s peripheral vision and shrugs. “My skills exceed the security features of airplane bathrooms.”
“Hm,” is all JJ can manage between ragged heaves. Her friend’s presence is comforting, but at the same time overwhelming. The throb filtering down from her head into her neck and shoulders seems worse with the addition of a second body in the cramped space. Maybe it’s a change in air pressure, or some minute workings of her inner ear.
“So.” Emily kneels and pats JJ’s shoulder. “Does Will know?”
For reasons JJ can’t begin to understand, her blood runs cold. “What?” She turns to face her friend, strings of mucous and bile whipping through the air and sticking to her chin, cold and wet.
“That you’re expecting,” Emily says, her tone perfectly casual.
“What?” JJ repeats in a gasp. “I don’t— I’m not—“
“Does he know you took a hard hit in the field?” Emily clarifies, shaking her head. “Sorry. That was supposed to be a joke. It wasn’t a good one.”
“Yeah...” JJ laughs in relief. Her limbs go weak and shaky with the release of her chemical panic, trembling clear up to her ribcage. “It wasn’t.”
“I don’t know any concussion jokes.” Emily kneels beside her, one hip pressed softly against JJ’s. “Just thought maybe it would help to lighten the mood.” She smoothes JJ’s ponytail down her back. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” Another rope of spit dangles from the corner of her mouth, warning of another impending onslaught. “I’m—“ JJ gags before she can say ‘fine’ again.
“You’re not.” Emily hands her a square of toilet paper. “Which is fine.”
JJ sighs and spits.
“You have a whole team of friends to help you. And a man at home. Who needs to be informed that you’re sick.”
“Not sick,” JJ insists. “Just concussed.”
“You still need to call Will,” Emily says.
JJ flushes the toilet and folds her arms back over the seat. “Yeah. When we land...” she groans.
“How about I call him when we land?” Emily gives her shoulder a pat and works JJ’s phone out of her pocket. “You’re not alone, remember?”
JJ smiles even though her stomach is in her throat again. “Thanks.”
#sickfic#emeto#criminal minds#jj#jennifer jereau#emily prentiss#concussion#fanfction#fanfic#hurt/comfort#friendship#f/f friendship
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Alone in the Ashes {5}
A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.
Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, sex, language, eating disorders.
For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}
Word Count: 4.9k
A/N: Dinner at the Archeron’s, part 1.
Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x
“Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.” ― Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper
Azriel sat on a bench in the middle of the courtroom.
Mila was with Rhysand, out for breakfast, before he had to go into work.
It had been a long week. After Amarantha had shown up at his apartment after being released from the hospital, she enlightened him that she would have a hearing, and was not expecting good news.
You fucking overdosed, again. Mila found you, couldn’t wake you up, and went to your neighbor’s house...A four year old! Azriel had spat at her. You have fucking drugs in a house with a toddler! It’s not your fucking four year old’s responsibility to save your ass.
Amarantha hadn’t said anything back. She simply nodded, and brushed it off.
They’re going to send me to jail, Az. To prison. For a long time. Amarantha almost seemed guilty at that, but the haunted look in her eyes didn’t last long. She was shaky, jittery, unnerved. Her mind wasn’t really there. Her mind was still on whatever it was she was recovering from.
Now, he watched as Amarantha sat before the judge.
He didn’t feel guilty, felt no remorse, as she was charged.
Possession. Distribution.
When I get out, she’s going to be a young adult, at the least, Amarantha had told him as they sat around his kitchen table, four days earlier. Believe it or not, Azriel, I do love my daughter.
Azriel shook his head, but had nothing left to say.
I want you to take her, Az. Care for her. I have told them as much, social services, through my lawyer. That you are her only relative, and that she’s close to you.
She was selfish, cruel, and Azriel had been forced to put up with way too much of her shit over the years.
But he couldn’t have Mila going into a home.
“Twenty years in the Velaris state prison,” the judge said, at last. “You will be detained straight from here. Mercifully, I will give you a moment to say goodbye to your family.”
The judge dismissed the courtroom, and a pair of burly cops followed Amarantha to where Azriel stood.
“You didn’t bring my daughter?” she asked, brows raised.
“As someone who just lost twenty years of their life, you don’t seem too bothered,” Azriel muttered. “And, no, I didn’t think she should have to watch her mother be dragged away. Again.”
Amarantha shook her head. “At least bring her to visit me?”
Azriel didn’t respond. “I have to go meet with cps and make sure Mila isn’t thrown into the system.”
Like we were.
Much to Amarantha’s protests, Azriel turned his back to her and walked out of the courtroom. He didn’t know why he hated Amarantha more: because she was a selfish bitch, or because she reminded Azriel of his mother.
It was an addiction. Azriel understood that. It was called an addiction for a reason, it was hard to shake, hard to stop, hard to get rid of. But, it still pissed him off. It all pissed him off, unbearably.
Azriel had been eleven when he got home from school and found his mother, unconscious on their living room floor, again. Only that time, she hadn’t woken up. After that day, he was forced into the foster care system, tossed around from home to home and eventually placed with a couple, and Amarantha, none who could care less about him.
All because of that damned, selfish addiction his mother had.
That Amarantha had.
His meeting with cps hadn’t lasted long. Amarantha had told them about him, she was honest about that. Perhaps in some way she did care about Mila, even if she didn’t show it.
They did a background check on him. The only thing they found was a few speeding tickets and that one time he spent the night in jail, at seventeen, because he’d had too much vodka at a party.
“Look,” Azriel said, once they said they had heard enough and would give him a call. “I love my niece. And she needs me. She knows me, she trusts me, she’s stayed with me for half her life. You can’t put her into foster care. I was in foster care, it’s...you can’t put her into foster care.”
The woman behind the desk smiled softly at Azriel. “I’m just the interviewer, but I will pass the case along, and they will give you a call soon, I promise. You’re Mila’s only relative, aside from your foster parents, but they don’t wish to have a part. You have no criminal record. You have your own home. I see no reason why they would not leave Mila in your care. When they do call, and they approve of her staying with you, there will be paperwork to fill out. We will have you back in the office at that time. Until then...comfort that child. She just had her mother taken away.”
Again, Azriel added, silently, for the hundredth time that morning.
“Thank you,” he said, attempting a smile as he stood and left the office.
Azriel made it to his truck and shut himself inside. His eyes closed in the silence. Deep breath in, slowly let it out. Repeat once, twice, three times.
He had to go get Mila from Rhys so that he could go to work. Azriel had to get to work himself, work on the garage at the Archeron’s.
All he wanted to do, though, was sit in silence for a minute. Five minutes. Ten.
Fuck addictions.
Fuck substance abuse.
Fuck it all.
Azriel leaned his head back against the truck seat and ran his hands through his hair. He thought of his mother, then realized he could barely remember what she looked like. He remembered the dark hair, like his, the hazel eyes….he could also remember she always had dark shadows beneath her distant eyes, that she was way too thin. He remembered the way her hands shook.
He couldn’t remember what she looked like when she smiled.
Azriel put his car in reverse and left the courthouse.
He kept the radio off.
~~~~~
“You’ll be there tonight, right?”
Nesta had said yes every day since Elain asked at the beginning of the week. “Yes. Seven?”
“Six, I thought we could have drinks while dinner is being made,” Elain beamed. “Oh, Nesta, I’m so excited. So is dad. Feyre’s bringing Rhys along. Oh! Is Tomas excited? We can’t wait to meet him.”
Nesta froze. Tomas. She had completely forgotten. “Oh, I-”
“You’ve never brought a boy home,” Elain continued. “I mean, this is monumental! He must really be special.”
“About that-”
“I hope he likes chicken. He does like chicken, right? I mean, everyone likes chicken. What’s his drink choice? Bourbon? Rum? Or, is he just a beer kind of man?”
“Elain-”
“Oh, I’m so happy, Nesta. This house deserves a little party. For once, it won’t just be me and dad.” Elain sighed. It was the first time Nesta had heard her become excited in quite some time. “I’ve got to run to the store. I’ll see you at six, right?”
Nesta’s eyes shut. “Right.”
“Okay, bye!” Elain beamed, hanging up.
Nesta was left sitting in her apartment, groaning. “Fuck!”
Tomas had left. To go where? Nesta had no idea. He hadn’t called, but he texted a few days before saying he was leaving town. Even if he had been in town, the chances of him going to a family dinner were slim. He wasn’t the family dinner type.
Nesta dug through her purse for a cigarette, but the box was empty. She had to make a drug store run before she completely lost her shit.
There was one on the corner that she made it to in five minutes, and after fueling the tobacco industry, which even she didn’t happily endorse, she was walking back home, a cigarette between her lips.
“Do you ever have a good day?”
Nesta twirled around.
Cassian was walking toward her, sweating, his dog on a leash.
“You look pissed,” he went on, “literally at all times.”
“And you have a way of sneaking up on me when I don’t want you to,” Nesta drawled. “Which is always.”
Cassian chuckled. “Well, whatever it is today, hope it gets better. The drink offer still stands. Come over if you wanna get hammered.”
A thought entered Nesta’s mind, but she quickly pushed it away. No. She would not become desperate. She would go to dinner, alone, and tell Elain and her father that there was no Tomas, not anymore, that even Nesta drove away a worthless bastard like Tomas Mandray.
She would endure their disappointment and answer all the questions they had. She would absorb their sympathetic glances and be told, Don’t worry, a man will come along some day by her father, just as he did when she was in high school.
The thought made her want to vomit.
“You’re free tonight, then?” Nesta blurted.
Cassian stopped midway up the stairs, on the landing. He turned around, brows raised. “Coming for a drink?”
“Eh - no. I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner,” she grounded out, attempting to sound pleasant, but fully realizing she was not.
Cassian blinked. “Dinner? With you?”
Nesta nodded, slowly.
She needed a shot.
Or two.
Cassian grinned, hazel eyes glowing. “Yeah. Alright. That sounds...interesting enough for a Friday night.”
Nesta scowled. “Be ready at five-thirty.”
Cassian’s grin widened as he nodded, turned back around, and walked his dog up the stairs.
Nesta had a feeling she should go back to the drug store and get a bottle of tequila.
Which is exactly what she did.
She would need it.
~~~~~
“Mor and Amren will both be here tomorrow afternoon,” Feyre called from the bathroom, where she had just finished drying her hair and was applying her makeup. “We should all go out tomorrow night.”
“Yeah,” Rhysand agreed, his voice quiet from his bedroom. “We should.”
“Have you heard anything else from Az?”
“No,” Rhysand said, and she could hear him sigh. “I can’t believe Amarantha….what a bitch.”
Rhysand had his own reasons for hating Amarantha, on top of her putting Mila in harm’s way. They had dated for a little while the summer after high school, even though Amarantha was a few years older than them. She was a bitch then, too. Amarantha moved on from Rhysand fairly quickly, her drug problem got significantly worse, and then she got pregnant.
“Poor Mila,” Feyre agreed, putting on a pale, pink lipstick. “At least she’s got Az.”
Rhysand agreed and met her in the threshold of the bathroom. He looked impressed, eyeing the gray sundress she wore. It reached halfway down her thighs, the fit loose, but hung low enough across her breasts to catch an eye.
“You look nice,” he smiled.
She shook her head, unable to stop a smile of her own. “You say that like I hardly wear anything cute, ever.”
When Rhysand didn’t answer, she punched him in the shoulder, and he laughed, and that tingly sensation filled Feyre to her very core. It had been happening more within the last week. She would catch Rhysand, watch him when he wasn’t aware, and find him attractive, want to run her fingers through his hair, across his skin. She would lay awake at night, pleasuring herself, and it would be his body, that chest covered in ink, that she would picture.
And he had no idea.
And she would keep it that way.
“I do prefer you in your scrubs and sweatshirts, yes,” Rhysand grinned, eyes mischievous. “But, the dress looks good.”
“Thanks for coming with me,” Feyre said, zipping everything back up into her makeup bag. “My dad always liked you.”
Rhysand nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets, humor fading. “Of course.”
Feyre pushed past him, her shoulder brushing along his arm, as she hurried into her room. “Should I wear sandals?”
“I assume they’ll come off the minute we walk through the front door, so does it really matter?” Rhysand asked, following her and dropping himself onto the side of her mattress.
“Yes,” Feyre said. “It does.”
Rhysand chuckled. “Fine. Yes, sandals.”
“Brown or white?”
Rhysand pretended to think about it for a long time. Too long.
“You are the worst at helping a woman get ready,” Feyre laughed, bending down to observe the shoes in the bottom of her closet.
Rhysand snickered, but he didn’t deny it. His eyes lingered as he watched her bend over. “Wear the black ones.”
Feyre gave him an intrigued glance before pulling on her black sandals and looking at herself in the floor length mirror.
She turned to Rhysand, brows raised. “Good enough to impress my father, whom I haven’t spoken to in months?”
“Well,” Rhysand began, eyes soft, “I think you look beautiful. Who cares what he thinks.”
“You’re too nice to me.” Feyre meant it as a joke, but her voice came out quiet. She had a feeling her cheeks were turning pink, but she hoped that they weren’t, or that he didn’t notice.
He was watching her, his gaze unwavering.
And then he sucked in a breath, stood, and smiled. “Well, ready? We should get going.”
Feyre nodded, that feeling still flying about wildly in the pit of her stomach. “Ready.”
“Alright. Let me get my shoes and my wallet.”
He left, and Feyre finally let out the breath she felt she’d been holding.
The way he was looking at her…
She didn’t think she was imagining it anymore.
~~~~~
Elain had a long list of things to do that day and she had managed to get through them all. Now, she was at her final stop, a flower stand outside of the grocery store. Her reusable bag was tossed over her shoulder, full of goods that would make up their feast. Now, she needed to arrange a beautiful centerpiece.
“A dozen tulips,” she smiled, once the owner had asked what she would like. “Pink and white, please.”
He nodded and gathered a bundle before wrapping them up and handing them over. Elain paid, thanked him for the beautiful flowers, and stepped to walk away.
“Lain!”
Elain spun around, smiling at Mila, who was running toward her, Azriel close behind.
“I didn’t see you today,” she said, wrapping her arms around Elain’s legs. “I missed you!”
Elain had spent every day for the last week playing games with Mila while Azriel worked. She was a great kid - kind, funny, polite. Elain enjoyed her time with the little one.
“I’m sorry I was gone. I had a lot of errands to run today. My sisters are coming over for dinner tonight. It’s a big dinner.”
“Ah, Rhys mentioned that,” Azriel said, taking Mila’s hand to keep her from straying on the busy sidewalk. “We weren’t there too long, today, anyway. Had some stuff to get done this morning, unfortunately. Took longer than expected.”
Elain nodded. That may have been the most he’d said to her at one time. Azriel was distant, she noticed, not having to speak unless spoken to. He hadn’t said a word to her all throughout high school; but, then again, she hadn’t spoken to him either.
They were from two different circles, two different worlds.
“Well, I hope everything is okay,” Elain replied, quietly.
“I like your flowers,” Mila’s little voice popped up, before Azriel could respond. “They’re sooo pretty.”
Elain smiled and knelt down so that she met Mila at eye level. “Which ones do you like better? Pink or white?”
“Pink!” Mila said, then stuck out her foot. “They match my shoes.”
Elain laughed, softly, as she nodded. “You’re right, they do.” She pulled a pink tulip from the bouquet and handed it to Mila. “Bring this home with you and put it in a nice big cup of water. Make sure it gets sunlight, too.”
Mila’s eyes went wide and she threw her arms around Elain’s neck, who laughed and patted her back, trying not to lose her balance.
“I will,” Mila promised, smiling at the flower, her flower.
Elain stood back up to find Azriel watching her, curiously.
“Well,” Elain began, cheeks heating. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”
Azriel nodded.
“Okay,” Elain breathed. She turned back to Mila. “Bye, Mila.”
“Bye, Lain,” she smiled.
As she turned to walk away, Azriel called out, “Elain?”
She turned around.
He was rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. For the flower. And for watching her, too.”
Elain nodded. “You’re welcome.”
She walked away, wondering if he was watching her walk away, but too nervous to look back and find out.
On the walk home, her mind wandered. She wondered what their story was, why Mila was staying with her uncle. They seemed to have a strong bond. She wondered what had happened to Mila’s parents.
Azriel didn’t seem like a horrible person, either, no matter how intense he seemed to be around her. She remembered the first conversation they had, when he told her that he remembered her from high school, and what he remembered her for. Cheerleader. Valedictorian. She was perfect, goody-goody Elain Archeron, top of the totem pole.
Oh, how far she had fallen on that totem pole.
She wondered what Azriel thought of when he looked at her, wondered if he truly got to know her what he would think of her, then. But she wanted to know him, wanted to dig inside of his mind. He was mysterious, a notorious rebel - at least, he had been. She didn’t think much had changed since high school. He was still mysterious, still unreadable.
And utterly handsome.
Elain got home and started marinating the chicken before finding one of her mother’s old vases and setting the flowers inside with water. She set it in the middle of the table, took a step back, and smiled.
Even with one pink tulip less, it was breath-taking.
~~~~~
Nesta pounded on his door at five-thirty.
When a second passed and he didn’t answer, she pounded on it, again.
“Hold the fuck on!” he shouted, then she could hear his heavy footsteps.
The door swung open and she rolled her eyes. He’d yet to put on a shirt, but he was wearing jeans and his boots. His hair was tied back and his eyes were amused.
“In a hurry?” he asked.
“Yes, we have to be at my dad’s in half an hour,” she muttered.
He lifted a brow. “Already meeting your dad, am I?”
As he went to grab his shirt off the couch, Nesta sighed, “Look. I’m not….on the best terms with my family right now, and my sister has been going through a shit time. She was excited about me bringing my boyfriend, but he bailed a few days ago. I couldn’t tell her that I’d be coming alone, because that would just open a huge can of disappointment, which is basically what I’m known for in my family. So, I asked you to come along and take his place.”
Cassian watched her while the words poured out as he buttoned up his shirt. “I see. So...I’m your boyfriend, then?”
“Pretend,” Nesta added. “Obviously.”
Cassian tilted his head. “And here I was, thinking you had finally come around and wanted to spend time with me.”
Nesta snorted. “Don’t come if you don’t want to. You know what? This was a mistake-”
She turned to leave but Cassian beat her to the door. He leaned against it, crossed his arms, and grinned. “Say you want me to come, and I’ll come. I’m great with parents.”
“What?” Nesta asked, exasperated.
His grin grew. “Say you want me to come, and I’ll come.”
Nesta shook her head. “I’m not saying that.”
The dark barked from the corner, sensing her tone from where he laid on his bed.
“Down, Bryaxis,” Cassian ordered, eyes still on Nesta’s. “Say it.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’ll please you,” Nesta snapped. “And I don’t want to please you.”
“Fine, then I’ll stay here, me and Bryaxis will have a drink or two…”
He stepped away from the door and opened it up, gesturing for Nesta to leave. She wanted to slap him in the face, punch him in the balls, but all she managed to do was stomp toward the door, eyes narrowed.
And then she imagined Elain’s disappointment and her father’s endless string of sympathetic questions.
She stopped at the threshold and looked at Cassian, seething. “I want you to come,” she whispered.
“What?” Cassian asked, pointing to his ear. “Sorry, can’t hear you.”
“I hate you,” she mumbled.
“Hmmm?” Cassian crooned.
“I want you to come,” she said, over-pronouncing each word. “So grab your fucking keys.”
Cassian’s hand flew to cover his chest, right over his heart. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
“Fuck off,” she mumbled, before exiting his apartment, her middle finger raised high in the air.
Cassian’s laughter just pissed her off more.
They got into his truck and he drove, the radio on a random rock-station. The sun was bright, although it would be going down soon.
“So, if I’m playing the part of your lover, I should probably know a little bit about you.”
Nesta sighed. “Fine. What do you think is important to know?”
“What did you do after high school?” he asked, eyes still on the road.
“Worked,” Nesta said.
And when she didn’t say anything more, Cassian looked her way. “Mind telling me where?”
“Odd and end jobs, mostly. The last few years I was a bartender, but I got fired this week.”
Cassian was quiet. Then, he said, “Sorry to hear that.”
Nesta shrugged and looked out the window.
“What do you like to do for fun?” Cassian asked, hoping to take on a lighter tone.
“Read,” Nesta said. “Drink.”
“Together?” Cassian asked, brow raised.
Nesta snorted. “Everything is better when you drink.”
“Agreed,” Cassian smiled.
“I prefer we keep my current lack of employment a secret for the night,” Nesta mumbled. She didn’t want to give her father any fuel.
“I can do that,” Cassian agreed. “Anything else I should know? How did we meet?”
“At the bar,” Nesta suggested.
“At the bar?” Cassian asked. “How romantic.”
“Trust me, no one will be surprised,” Nesta said, under her breath. “Up here, first house on the right.”
Cassian pulled into the driveway and parked behind Rhysand’s car.
It was going to be an interesting night.
~~~~~
Elain was a natural planner, she was completely in her element.
Feyre caught her eye every now and then and smiled. It had been a long time since they all were under the same roof.
The front door opened and Nesta stepped inside.
She wasn’t alone.
“Cass?” Rhysand asked, looking back and forth between him and Nesta. “The hell are you doing here?”
Cassian smiled, arm flung around Nesta’s shoulder. She tensed, but quickly relaxed. No one could say anything more before Elain hurried in, carrying a tray of cut fruit.
“Hi! You must be Tomas,” she smiled. “I’m Elain.”
Feyre opened her mouth to say something, but when she did, she came up speechless.
“You can call me Cassian,” he said, smiling in that charming way of his. “Tomas is my middle name, and Nesta prefers it. Apparently, Cassian is a shit name.”
Elain blinked. “Oh, well, nice to meet you, Cassian.”
“You, too,” he said, before walking into the room and taking a seat by Feyre.
As Elain went to finish up dinner, Feyre turned to face him. “What the fuck?”
“Long story,” he muttered. “Play along and I’ll fill you in later.”
Feyre had met Tomas before and she was perfectly aware that he and Cassian were two very, very different people. She also knew that her sister didn’t know Cassian that well, so asking him to come was her being desperate.
Feyre had never known Nesta to be desperate.
Nesta sat, too, although she didn’t acknowledge Feyre. Feyre didn’t care, didn’t think anything of it. Her and Nesta had hardly talked in years.
Her eldest sister stayed quiet while the others chatted and ate Elain’s fruit platter. Half an hour passed before Elain appeared, once more, and invited everyone into the dining room.
“Where’s dad?” Nesta asked, the first words she had spoken.
Elain’s smile faltered as they all took a seat. “I’m not sure. He said he would be here-”
The front door burst open, and through the opening of the dining room, they could see Isaac stumbling inside.
His brown eyes were wide when he looked up and met everyone’s stares. “I’m-I’m sorry I’m l-late.”
Feyre’s shoulders fell as she looked over to Elain.
He was trashed.
Her eyes were wide, her lips parted at the sight of their father, clearly disheveled, clearly drunk. “Dad, it’s family dinner night, remember?”
“I know, I know, yes,” he said, hurrying into the dining room and taking a seat. “I-I said I’d be here. This looks delicious, Elain, you did wonderful.”
Elain cleared her throat and tried to smile. “Well, let’s dig in, then.”
Feyre loaded her plate with chicken and vegetables, looking around the table as she did so. Rhysand had moved closer to her, as if sensing her discomfort. Nesta was staring at her plate, empty. Elain was picking at a pile of broccoli. And Cassian didn’t know what the hell was going on.
“You must be Nesta’s boyfriend,” Isaac said, looking at Cassian. “What was your name?”
“Cassian,” he provided.
Isaac shook his head. “N-No, I don’t think so.”
Cassian took a bite of corn. “Pretty sure my name’s Cassian.”
Isaac looked confused, but he shook it off. “Nesta, I-I’m glad you came. I-I didn’t think you w-would.”
Nesta’s mouth tightened.
The table fell into silence as everyone picked at their food.
“What have you been up to?” Isaac asked, looking at Nesta, then to Feyre. “What have any of you been up to? I don’t hear from either of you anymore.”
“Just work,” Feyre said, so Nesta wouldn’t have to. “I broke up with Tamlin a while back. I’m living with Rhys in the city.”
Isaac looked at Rhysand, eyes wide as if just realizing he was there. “Finally a couple, are you? That’s-That’s great. I always kn-knew you two would end up tog-g-gether.”
Rhysand paused, but continued eating a second later.
“Just friends, dad,” Feyre said.
Isaac scoffed. “Whatever you say. We all know w-what’s really going on.”
“Dad,” Elain breathed. “Could you not?”
“And what about you, hmm?” Isaac said, eyes on Nesta. His fork had a piece of chicken stabbed on the end, but he wasn’t eating it. “Are you living with this...Cassian?”
“No,” Nesta answered, shortly.
“Still scared of commitment?” Isaac asked, leaning over the table on his fist. “She always had trouble with that. Never trusted anyone, pissed off at the world.”
Nesta said nothing.
Her plate was still empty.
“I think she’s doing just fine,” Cassian assured him.
Feyre was still looking at Nesta, on the way she concentrated on the white porcelain disk in front of her. She couldn’t remember the last time they were all together, especially in the same room as their father. Nesta and her father never gotten along, but it had really gone down hill after their mother passed.
“Still making drinks for a living?” Isaac asked, as if Cassian hadn’t said a word. “That’s what I hear you do. M-make drinks.”
Nesta didn’t answer.
“You always get so angry that I’m not there for you,” Isaac slurred. “But here I am, as-asking about your life, and you’ve got nothing to say?”
Nesta slowly looked at her dad. “You’re drunk.”
Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “I am not.”
Feyre shook her head, and just as she was about to speak, Nesta beat her to it.
“You really think we don’t know when you’re intoxicated?” Nesta laughed, humorlessly. “We’re not children. And we’ve seen you drunk plenty of times. Elain tried to prepare this nice dinner and then you come in here acting like a teenager who snuck into his dad’s liquor cabinet!”
Isaac shook his head, finally setting his fork down.
Elain looked like she was about to cry.
“You c-can’t talk to me that w-way,” Isaac said, voice quiet. “I am your father.”
“Dad-” Feyre began, but Nesta held up a hand, cutting her off.
“I am a grown ass woman,” Nesta said, with a deadly calm. “You’re an embarrassment.”
“Me?” Isaac asked, brows shooting up into his hairline. He looked to Cassian. “Run now, son. This one is going nowhere with her life.”
“Please,” Elain breathed. “Stop.”
Rhysand had his hand on Feyre’s knee under the table to keep it from shaking.
“I think you should go up to bed, dad,” Feyre said, lifting her chin. “Sleep it off.”
“No,” Nesta said. “Let him say what he has to say. Drunks always tell the truth.”
Isaac stood and wavered on his feet. “Your mother...good thing she didn’t wait to see how you turned out.”
Elain gasped, and Isaac turned to leave.
But as he did, he fell to the ground, out cold against the hardwood.
The room was met with silence.
“Help me get him upstairs,” Feyre mumbled.
Rhysand nodded.
Elain was in tears.
Nesta was fuming.
Cassian was sitting in his chair, perfectly still.
Feyre grabbed her father’s legs as Rhysand lifted him up from under his arms. As they carried him up the stairs to his bedroom, Feyre felt like she was in high school all over again.
Family fights.
Taking care of her drunk, passed out dad.
Isaac telling Nesta that their mother would be ashamed.
Yeah.
Just like high school.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Prompts:
{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous
{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous
{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous
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I don't know how to write by I had this Criminal Minds fanfction idea where The Replicator killed Diane Turner and kidnapped Maeve. I don't know why or how but it'd be interesting. Also I want a happy ending because killing Maeve off was the stupidest thing the show ever did. If anyone wants to write something like this, let me know and I'd love you forever
#criminal minds#spencer reid#maeve donovan#raeve#spencer x maeve#diane turner#the replicator#john curtis#season 8#fanfiction
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HIII IT'S ME OMG IM SO EXCITED COULD YOU POST THE NEW FIC ALL IN ONE PART??? CUZ I CAN'T WAIT TO READ IT EEEHHEHEH I LOVE LONG FICS ALSO IM KINDA NEW TO TUMBLR SO IDK HOW TO USE A LOT OF FEATURES AND THE ONLY WAY IVE FOUND TO MESSAGE PPL IS THE REQUEST PART LOL - 🦊
I'VE GOT YOU 🦊!! Sorry it took so long to upload, I thought of something else so I added and then had to edit that part :) I hope you enjoy!
Everything's Just Fine
You get sick and Emily is away with the team on a case. You were frustrated that you weren't able to help, so instead of resting you decided to do all of the paperwork that you could find. A great decision, right?
Word Count: 3k
-----
You sniffled and rubbed your bleary eyes, trying to focus on the pile of paperwork you were trying desperately to get through. Hotch had deemed you ‘too sick’ to go with them on the case, but he wasn’t there, leaving you to your own devices. You’d helped solve it by working through Garcia, who you had threatened into silence (in reality, you’d begged her to let you help and flashed the best puppy dog eyes you had) and your team would be home in three hours.
Penelope had agreed to stay silent, but only if you drank the gallons of tea she shoved down your throat. You were sure that she’d laced it with some sort of medication, so you just pretended to drink. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate her attempts to coddle you, it was just that you didn’t want her to see you so vulnerable. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this, it was embarrassing.
Your nose was running practically nonstop, your chest ached, you couldn’t stop shivering and every five seconds was filled with painful coughs or gross, wet sneezes. Every cough and sneeze tore through your already sore throat, making it feel like you had swallowed glass. The pressure in your sinuses made it feel like your head was about to burst. There was a good chance that the next fit of coughing would send your brain exploding out of your buzzing ears.
“Sweetie, that really doesn't sound good.” Penelope said, startling you after a particularly rough coughing fit that brought up a wad of mucus and left you seeing stars. You swallowed hard, a little disgusted with yourself, and forced a little smile onto your dry, cracked lips. Judging by her raised eyebrow, she didn’t believe whatever you were about to say next.
“I’m fine Garcia, just a little cold. Plus, they’ll be back soon.” You rasped, not realizing just how far gone your voice was until you had started to speak. It was a minor miracle that you had even gotten those two sentences out. You sniffed hard and coughed, turning your head into your elbow to avoid spreading your germs all over the innocent tech analyst.
“Uh-uh, no way. Come on, come lay in my office for a little while. I’ve got everything nice and cozy for when Reid has a migraine, it’ll be much nicer than sitting out here in the cold.” The blonde coaxed, her voice like butter. She was lulling you into a false sense of security, smiling kindly and offering you a space in her Batcave.
All you wanted to do was curl up and let out all of your stupid pent up emotions, you wanted to cry into the plethora of pillows that you knew she had and just fall asleep to escape all of the pain raging through your body. Every movement sent needles of agony through your bones, even your eyes hurt. You had forgotten that fevers could do that to a person.
“I’m almost done here, I’ll put my head down when I finish.” You ducked into your elbow with a barely stifled sneeze and lifted your head with flushed cheeks. This whole thing was humiliating, no one was supposed to see you sick. You weren’t supposed to be sick. You were a fucking FBI agent, FBI agent’s didn’t succumb to simple colds.
Penelope frowned and reached out to touch your cheek, rolling her eyes slightly when you slapped her hand away.
“I’m telling Emily. How do you think she’ll feel about all of this?” She gestured to your sickly appearance as if she hadn’t just threatened you as one would a toddler. You clenched your jaw, but parted your lips when you realized that your nose was too stuffed to breathe, and decided to just glare at her instead.
“Penelope Garcia. I am not a toddler, you are not my mother, you are not my girlfriend and my physical wellbeing is none of your fucking business. Leave. Me. Alone.” The hurt expression that flashed across her face made you feel guilty, but you just wanted her to go away. Everything about this was wrong, her being able to see you at your weakest point was ever worse.
“Alright, I’m going back to my office. Come find me if you need anything.” She murmured, bowing her head in understanding. You looked away, resurfacing to meet her gaze, you knew that if she said one more nice thing you’d probably break down. It would be so easy to just start crying. Or it would be if you had enough fluids left in your body to cry out.
Sniffling back tears you went back to your work, the words blurring through your tears and the general haze that came from what had to be a fever over 102 degrees. You could practically see the look on Emily’s face when she’d come back, the disappointment and concern written in the worry lines across her forehead. She worried too much, especially about you.
You scribbled your name at the bottom of the page inquiring about who was interrogated, accidentally scrawling your signature into the place where Hotch was supposed to sign. That was it. You were done. That was the straw that broke the exhausted, sick, miserable camel's back. You were absolutely done.
==
You stumbled up the stairs and into the first office you could find, intending to fall onto the couch where you would sleep until your girlfriend got home. She would be so disappointed in you. You made it halfway into what you assumed in your hazy mind was JJ’s office before falling to the floor, too dizzy to stay upright anymore.
Part of you thought to call out for Garcia as you lay on the uncomfortable tile, your cheek pressed on the rug. The world went black with one final gasping cough as you slipped into unconsciousness. That was nicer than being awake with the pain.
Unfortunately, unconsciousness was not exactly better. It was uncomfortable, too hot, sometimes too cold, like someone had dunked you in an ice bath which was then set on fire. Your disturbing, terrifying fever dreams were interrupted by a distant sound and the feather light touch of a hand on your shoulder. Both felt a mile away, but they saved you from the nightmares of being drowned in an icy ocean with no one to hear your screams.
“Y/n! Fuck, EMLIY! Get in here!” You clung to the voice, whimpering as you struggled to pull yourself out of the void. She must’ve noticed your struggle because the owner of the voice combed fingers through your hair, coaxing you into the real world.
“Hey, hey you. Can you open your eyes?” Sudden panic flooded over you and you shoved yourself away, ignoring the stars brewing in your eyes. For a moment you were pretty sure that you’d throw up, but you managed to curl yourself into the corner, cowering away from the touch.
Your breaths were harsh and painful, they probably sounded that way to the blonde as well. The world was blurring around you and standing wasn’t probably the best idea, but you were already halfway to your feet.
“Woah, Y/n,” JJ rushed toward you, raising her arms as you swayed, prepared to catch you. You pulled away again, trying to force out some semblance of words.
“Go!” You yelped, tears filling your eyes. Everything was spinning, the woman’s face warping and bending in your vision. Something slammed and you looked up to find another blurry faced woman rushing into the room, wearing the same expression.
“Y/L/N!” The second woman, Emily, barked, making you freeze. In different circumstances that tone would’ve sparked a flutter in your chest, but this was just scary. She raced to your side and grabbed your elbows, managing to keep you upright. You sniffled and met her chocolate brown eyes, searching for anything that could be construed as anger or unhappiness. All you saw was loving concern.
“Shit, you’re burning up. Honey, why?” The brunette breathed, cupping your cheeks with strong, soft hands. You whimpered in response, doing everything you could not to just fall into her arms.
“C-can you make t-the room stop s-spinning?” You managed, stumbling forward until your head bounced against her shoulder. Emily wrapped an arm around your waist and helped you over to the couch, murmuring gentle words that you couldn’t quite make out. Everything was fuzzy, you weren’t sure how much longer you could stay conscious.
You didn’t realize you were crying until you were sitting up against her and she was brushing the tears off of your cheeks. You didn’t fully understand what was happening, but you knew that she was holding you, providing you with the love that you had so desperately needed.
“Morgan, we’re going to need some help getting her to the car.” Emily murmured, stroking your hair as you leaned against her chest. Part of you was a bit concerned, the deal was no displays of romantic affection at work and here she was, holding you close, cuddling you like she would at home. This was bad. You were going to get fired.
You pushed her away, little whimpers building in your throat. You slid back onto the floor, confusion and anxiety flowing through your mind. She was by your side in an instant, grabbing your hands as she tried to fix whatever was happening in your mind.
“No, no no. No, They’ll be mad. They’ll be so mad.” You shook your head and pulled back, a harsh cough wracking your body. Your lungs were beginning to sound like crinkling wax paper, worrying everyone.
“Come on honey, please get off the floor. No ones mad, we just want to help.” She soothed, inching back so as not to startle you further. Not even you understood the back and forth of your mind, it was scary just how many things were happening and all you wanted was to be somewhere dark and quiet.
“Everything hurts…make it stop, please make it stop.” You begged, covering your ears, hiding from everything. It was odd, you were just so damn overwhelmed.
“Okay sweetie, alright. Breathe for me. It’s all going to be okay. Does it hurt when I do this?” She asked gently, probing at your arm. You had apparently bruised it when you’d fallen and it had quickly turned a dark purplish black color. You nodded slightly, removing yourself from your shell so that you could talk to her.
“We’re going to get you home and all cozy, but you’ve got to trust me. Will you let me?” Morgan and Hotch were in the room now, with Rossi hovering in the doorway. Penelope was attached to Morgan's arm, a panicked expression on her face. This was all because of you. It was both humiliating beyond belief and…almost wholesome?
“M’kay.” You finally whispered, your voice basically gone at this point. She gave you a small, caring smile and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“Can Morgan carry you?” You were too tired to even consider fighting it. You wanted to be home and if that's what it took, that's what it took. Emily moved to the side and the man stepped forward, nearly blocking your view of her.
“Don’t leave me!” You yelped, grabbing for her hand. You refused to be away from her, no fucking way would she leave you alone again, it wasn’t happening. She clasped your fingers in hers and shushed you softly.
“I’m right here, he’s just going to pick you up and everything will be okay.” She was being so understanding, so wonderful. You loved her so damn much. You nodded again and allowed Morgan to hoist you into a bridal carry, your head falling on his chest; you were just too physically weak to hold it up anymore.
“Shit, Princess, your fever’s really high. Emily, you’ve gotta get that down.” He said, concern radiating in his words. She nodded quickly, still holding onto your hand. You glanced at Hotch as Morgan carried you out, disappointment shining in his eyes. Garcia looked mildly betrayed and you hated that you’d made her feel that way. You opened your mouth to say something, but she shut you up with a shake of her head.
“Just get better, lovely. I’ll be by with some soup and Disney movies tomorrow.” You smiled at her, your eyes slipping closed as exhaustion took over. You heard a murmur of ‘goodbyes’ and ‘feel better soons’ as you were whisked away by your friend and girlfriend, falling asleep with your head bouncing against Morgan’s chest.
==
When you woke up you were laying in your own bed, Emily grumbling softly as she tried to peel the sweat covered clothes off of your body. You whined softly at the touch, curling away from her icy hands. You sniffled thickly and pulled your knees to your chest, well aware that you were no longer wearing a shirt.
“Look who's up.” The brunette cooed, reaching up to stroke your fevered cheek. You squirmed again, utterly unhappy with how much being touched hurt you. All you wanted was cuddles from the woman you loved but her gentle touch caused you so much pain.
“My skin hurts.” You rasped, giving her a watery pout. Tears were rolling down your cheeks again, for what felt like the 10th time that day you were crying. You hated it, you hated your damn body and you wanted a hug.
“Okay love, we can get that taken care of. If you sit up for me I can get some medicine in you and get something much more comfortable on.” She smiled, tucking a strand of hair back behind your ear. You shrugged, fully intending not to do anything. She rolled her eyes at your uncooperative behavior and lifted you into a sitting position, making you yelp in pain. She reared back at your pained sound, concern flooding her expression.
“I can’t it, it hurts too much!” You sobbed, wrapping your arms around your knees and pulling them to your chest. You held that position for probably fifteen minutes until you finally managed to cry yourself out and looked back up at Emily who had a broken expression on her face.
“How do I help?” She whispered, sounding as desperate as you felt. Your beautiful strong girlfriend was breaking just because you felt sick. You took a shaky, chest squeezing breath and forced yourself to calm down.
“Um…will y-you help me change…and then maybe hold me?” The profiler gave you a kind smile and nodded, reaching out to stroke your cheek again. This time it didn’t hurt so much, the contact actually felt quite nice.
It took a bit longer than either of you expected to get you changed, you were practically incapable of moving any of your limbs, meaning that she had to do all of the work. She did it without complaint, checking in every few moments to make sure that she wasn’t hurting you.
“Okay baby, take this really fast and we’ll get you some sleep.” You didn’t fight when she handed you the cap of blue medicine, well aware that the Nyquil and fever would take you out in minutes. The goop tasted absolutely awful, so bad that even with your poor sense of taste and smell it burned the back of your throat.
You coughed heavily into your blanket, a sound which made Emily’s face contort in worry. She patted your back as you hacked, helping you to release some of the mucus from your lungs.
“We’re going to the doctor tomorrow if that doesn’t sound better.” She determined after a few minutes of listening to your exhaustive breathing. You nodded in agreement, well aware that the cough was worse than it should be for a simple cold or mild flu.
“Stay with me until I fall asleep?” You asked, your body sagging as the medication sunk in. Emily slipped into the bed beside you, sitting a few feet away so as not to invade your personal space in a way that you weren't comfortable with. You hesitated a moment and looked over, feeling suddenly shy.
“Um…will you hold me? Maybe? P-please…” She smiled kindly and pulled you into her arms, cradling your head against her chest as the two of you snuggled under the covers. You stifled a sneeze, but she just made a worried sound and kissed the top of your head
“Don’t worry about that. Just sleep, okay? I’m right here, you’re safe. I’ve got you.” You sniffled quietly and grabbed the fabric of her shirt, grateful for her saying that. Fevers always made you edgy, but she had this way of fixing it every single time. She was your rock. She never failed to make you feel better, even at your worst times.
“Love you Em.” You mumbled, your words slurred by sleep.
“I love you too Y/n/n. Now hush, sleeping time.” Never one to disobey an order from your girlfriend, you closed your eyes, falling into a warm void of unconsciousness in the arms of the woman you were in love with.
#fever#sick fanfic#sick fanfiction#sick reader#sickfic#fanfiction#sicknario#ill#illness#caretaking#fainting#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfction#criminal minds sickfic#criminal minds#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x y/n#emily prentiss x you#emily prentiss x female reader#emily prentiss x reader#jj#jennifer jareau#cm fanfic#aaron hotchner#spencer reid#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x y/n#derek morgan#penelope garcia#hurt/comfort
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insult to injury + "it's just a bad dread, wake up" for elle greenaway if you could!!! please and thanks
A Sucker For Cuddles
Hey all! Sorry for being gone yesterday, I legit couldn't bring myself to write. Anyway, I hope you all had a wonderful day/night and that it continues!!
[[summary]] Elle gets herself hurt on a case and the universe decides that her injury just isn't enough. FBI agent's just can't get a break. (elle greenaway x reader)
Word Count: 1713
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You opened your eyes and let out a huge yawn, reaching over to the bedside table to smack the alarm clock that was screaming incessantly at you and your girlfriend. Once you got the damn thing off you laid back again, wondering if you even needed to get out of bed. Technically you had the day off so you really didn’t have to move at all.
This was the first day off you’d had in a long time, you were always called in on one case or another, and with Elle on sick leave you may just get to spend the day pampering the overly stubborn agent. It had literally taken a broken ankle to get the woman to rest.
You rolled over and nuzzled into Elle’s bare shoulder, wrapping an arm around her waist. You stayed like that for only a moment before drawing away, your face wrinkling in concern. Her skin was much warmer than it should be, a thin layer of sweat coating her whole body. Despite the heat radiating from her, she was shivering slightly, clinging to the blankets like they were her only lifeline.
“Oh, Elle.” You murmured, keeping your voice low enough that she wouldn’t hear. Though, considering that the alarm hadn’t even caused her to stir there was a real chance that she could sleep through you banging pots together and belting Hamilton at the top of your lungs. Not that you had done that…in your defense you were drunk.
You slipped out of bed and readjusted the blankets up around Elle’s shoulders, tucking her in tightly. She hummed in discomfort and sniffled before smushing her runny nose against the slightly damp pillow.
You’d need to get her a bath to get rid of some of that sweat. It would be difficult to do that with the cast though, maybe you’d just do a classic wet towel bath just to help her feel a little better. But that would come after you fed and medicated her.
You padded out of the room, mind racing as you tried to go over everything that you’d need to do for the sick woman. She typically got quite grouchy about weakness and had berated you for three hours after breaking her ankle before she just dissolved into tears in your arms.
She had apologized over and over again but you couldn’t be mad. She was in pain, she hadn’t slept in days and the case had been rough on everyone. You’d even seen the typically bright Penelope snap at Hotch for asking too much of her. Everyone was on edge.
So, to keep her from going completely stir crazy you’d need constant movies back to back, crossword puzzles for if she felt up to it, medicine, soup, a few books, and a blanket fort on the couch because eventually she’d just straight up refuse to stay in bed.
You glanced at the clock and decided that you probably only had twenty minutes to prepare before the pain in her leg would wake her up. After that it would most likely be borderline impossible to get her back to sleep without a lot of coaxing and perhaps some bribery. As much as she would deny it, Elle was a sucker for cuddles, especially when she was hurt or sick.
For breakfast you decided to make her oatmeal, figuring that you could make something for yourself after she was settled. For a reason that you didn’t quite understand, Elle absolutely loved oatmeal. She would eat it whenever she could and as disgusting as you found it, you knew that it wouldn’t be too rough on her throat or stomach.
It took you two tries to correctly make the oatmeal, somehow managing to burn the oats in the microwave the first time. Perhaps the microwave was not the best choice of tool, but the damn package had said that it would be okay.
Okay turned into the smell of burning and a frighteningly smokey microwave. You let that air out while you cut up a banana to go on top, grumbling about the stupid machine. The second attempt had been successful, leaving you with a steaming bowl of gooey mush that you were sure your girlfriend would enjoy.
You put the banana in the bowl and sprinkled the top of it with a bit of brown sugar, repeating the practiced motions that you’d seen Elle go through every morning. She always teased Reid about the amount of sugar he would put in his coffee, but she would eat a ridiculous amount of sugar with her breakfast if you let her.
After heating up some water for chamomile tea and adding a surplus of honey and lemon you returned to the bedroom to find Elle beginning to stir. She rolled over in the bed and reached across to your side, letting out a small whine when she found your side of the bed cold.
“Morning pretty lady.” You said softly, setting the tray which held her breakfast and a bottle of NyQuil down on the bed. The tea was placed on the bedside table, you were not willing to take the risk of that spilling all over your sick girlfriend.
“Y/n? What’s this?” She rasped, turning away to cough into her pillow. She grimaced when she lifted her head again, a pout settling on her lips. She knew that she was sick and was likely realizing that you wouldn't let her do anything today.
“Well, you see, this is the meal typically eaten in the morning. It is widely known as breakfast.” You teased, leaning over to peck her sweaty forehead affectionately. The woman groaned at your teasing, the glint in her eyes showing her amusement.
“M’not hungry. Maybe later?” You shook her head at her weak plea, knowing full well that maybe later would turn into never and she needed to eat something with her med.
“I’m sorry Elle, just eat a little bit and then you can go back to sleep, okay?” She wrinkled her nose, clearly unhappy with the idea but sighed and nodded. You gave her a pleading look and leaned over again, pressing a little kiss to the tip of her nose. It didn’t matter that it was runny, or that she was sniffling quietly, she was cute and the gesture had worked.
“M’kay.” The brunette sighed, a slight wheeze in her breath. You didn’t think that she would get really sick, it was really just a cold with a slight fever, but the wheeze didn’t make you feel good. You’d need to keep an eye on that just in case it turned into something more but you hoped that a few rounds of cold medicine and a lot of sleep would kick this thing in the ass.
She reached for the spoon but you stopped her hand, gesturing to the little cup of medicine.
“That first.”
“…really?”
“Truly.”
She managed to eat nearly half of the oatmeal and you had convinced her to drink all of the tea before she collapsed back onto the pillows looking utterly exhausted. All of the energy seemed to have gone out of her and her eyes looked dull. She coughed quietly and blinked up at you, her cheeks flushing a sudden deep red.
“Aw, baby. I’m sorry you don’t feel well.” You crooned, reaching over to stroke her damp hair. Tears filled her dark eyes and she sniffled hard, trying not to cry. You just continued to card your fingers through her hair, honestly unsure what to say to make her feel better. She was feeling weak, probably less than and you knew that there was nothing that you could say to reassure her that it was okay.
“W-will you l-lay with me?” She finally whimpered, reopening her sad eyes. You smiled and lay back down, positioning yourself over the covers with her cradled against your chest. She was shaking a bit, but you couldn’t tell if it was from crying or fever. Your guess would have to be both.
The brunette dozed off in your arms, her breathing evening to soft congested puffs which hit your chest, reminding you that she was still alive. She was still here. She was safe. You weren’t sure if she’d make it home on the last case, you had sat with her in the hospital trying to hold back tears as you thought of everything that could have gone wrong.
You yawned, reminding yourself that you had gotten practically no sleep the night before. It was always hard for you to sleep after cases, haunted by the faces of those you couldn’t save. Laying there with Elle in your arms made it easier to relax, easier to give in to your exhaustion.
You had fallen into a light doze, awake enough to be aware of your surroundings but asleep enough that you couldn’t interact with them. Elle had been sleeping peacefully beside you, occasionally making quiet noises in her sleep, but nothing that had really sparked your attention. That was until she started thrashing.
You sat up quickly, and grabbed her shoulders, trying to keep her from hurting herself. Of course that only served to panic her further, something you probably should’ve realized before touching you.
“Elle, Elle, it’s just a bad dream. Wake up, wake up sweetie, it’s a bad dream.” You soothed, patting her cheek gently to pull her out of the nightmare. She didn’t wake up, but she relaxed a bit at the soft caress, her frightened yelps turning to soft whimpers.
“Shh, shh that’s right honey, it’s all okay. Shh, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” You murmured, smiling as she calmed completely, her breaths evening out. The two of you lay like that, you half propped up to make sure that she was safely asleep, not having any more nightmares.
You stayed that way for an hour, finally letting yourself drift off again after you were absolutely sure that she wasn’t having a bad dream. It had been a long time since the woman had been sick and it seemed like her body wasn’t handling it particularly well. That was fine by you, all that mattered was that you would always be there to take care of her.
#sickfic#fever#fanfiction#sick fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfction#criminal minds sickfic#criminal minds#elle greenaway x reader#elle greenaway#elle greenaway sick#sick elle greenaway#spencer reid#hurt/comfort#hurt/angst#fluff#fluff and angst#flu#sickness#illness
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Flu in the FBI
〘Prompt 7 (day 8, oops)- "You're a jerk when you're sick.〙
〘Notes- Yeah, I was going to post this yesterday but I only finished it a few minutes ago. I'm probably just going to write as I have time for now, but I'll do my best to keep up with this month! Excuse the title, it's bad. Also for the editing, it doesn't exist :,)〙
〘Summary- Morgan really can't take a hint.〙
〘Word Count- 1.2k〙
〘Pairing- JJ x Sick Emily (CM)〙
〚Main Masterlist〛⌶〚Sicktember Masterlist〛
“Come on Prentiss, just a quick game!” Morgan teased, throwing a sugar packet at the brunette’s head. Emily didn’t even look up to register the “attack”, she just continued to power through her paperwork with gritted teeth.
The game he was talking about was a version of basketball in which they would try to throw as many sugar packets into a paper cup as they could in a minute. The loser usually had to take a portion of the winner’s paperwork. It was something they often did to lighten the mood of their dreary workplace.
Normally, the former Interpol agent would’ve taken him up on the challenge, but she didn’t have the energy. The slight cold she’d felt developing on the second day of the case had turned into a full-on bout of the flu, and it was kicking her ass.
Another packet of sugar smacked her on the head, but she ignored it, focusing instead on making sure her letters were even slightly recognizable. Her hands had grown progressively shakier throughout the last few hours, turning her already messy handwriting into chicken scratch.
“Not tonight, Morgan.” Emily croaked, stifling a sneeze. She was secretive about it, in fact someone who didn’t know her well wouldn’t have noticed. Reid, who was standing slightly to the side of her, only knew that she had sneezed because of the quick tensing in her shoulders and the slight bob of her head. The woman had mastered the art of being discreet.
“What, scared you’ll lose?” Derek taunted, a gloating edge to his voice. Had he been paying attention he would’ve seen the reddening around Emily’s nostrils, the glassy tint to her typically sharp brown eyes, and the ghastly pale shade of her skin. Most of the color in her face was coming from the red spots on her cheeks that had come with the spike in her fever.
“I said no.” She snapped back, her words more clipped despite the congestion. Her patience for his antics was wearing thin and she had no energy for his lighthearted teasing. Deep down the BAU agent knew that her friend meant no harm, but this illness had her short tempered and miserable. As soon as she had completed her work she planned to drive home and sleep until she was free of this illness.
“Nah, I get it. You don’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of Spencer. Don’t worry princess, I don’t think he cares.” It may have been his own exhaustion not letting him notice Emily’s poor mood, but it didn’t matter. He had pushed her over the edge, and she wasn’t going to hold back.
“Morgan. I said no. I do not want to play your stupid game; I want to finish my fucking work and then I want to go home. What part of that isn’t clear to you?” She slammed her hands onto her desk and glared at him, trying to muster the scariest look she could. It was hard to look menacing with a runny nose, but Emily pulled it off.
The tall man stood there in shock, not having expected such a strong reaction. His confusion turned to worry as he finally realized just how sick his coworker was, but that quickly shifted to frustration. He was annoyed with himself for not noticing and annoyed with Emily for her tone. Sure, he had deserved it, but no one liked to be talked to like that.
“You’re a jerk when you’re sick.” He grumbled, walking back to his own desk.
“Oh, I’mthe jerk? You were throwing shit at my head!” Oops. He hadn’t meant for her to hear that. Emily was fuming and, more embarrassingly, felt like she was about to start crying. The stern words of her mother rang in her head, demanding that she keep her emotions in check. She could cry when she got back to her apartment.
“Hey, what’s going on over here?” JJ asked, appearing out of seemingly nowhere. Apparently the two had been louder than they realized, they had attracted a crowd. Garcia had emerged from her Bat Cave and even Hotch was hovering by the door to his office, surveying his troops.
Rossi was probably deep into his glass of Whiskey by now and couldn’t care less about the happenings of his team as long as they weren’t actively trying to kill each other.
“Nothing.” Emily whispered, sitting back down at her desk. If JJ got involved, she was going to coddle Emily and that, while a tempting idea, wouldn’t let Emily get her work done.
Unlike the others, JJ wasn’t about to let this go. She could see that not only was her girlfriend sick, but she was much sicker than she was letting on. The blonde had noticed it first when Emily had fallen asleep on the plane, but she was secretly hopeful that it was just the lack of rest during the case.
Now it was clear that it wasn’t simple tiredness, her beautiful lover was sick. JJ sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to keep her frustration at bay. She could already tell that Morgan felt bad, but in the short run that didn’t really matter. For now, she needed to get Emily home and get the fever under control.
“Alright. Em, pack your stuff. And one of you,” She jabbed her finger at Morgan and Reid, “is finishing her work. I’ll pay you back later.” The media liaison was not looking for an argument, she had said that they were doing Emily’s paperwork so they would be doing Emily’s paperwork.
“Jayje, I’m fine. I’m almost done anyway.” The brunette protested weakly, no fight behind her words. There was a very good chance that she would be dragged home, and she’d realized that she would be more than okay with that.
“Shush, you look awful,” JJ’s face softened as she looked down at the slightly pathetic woman and she reached out to stroke her cheek. It wasn’t often they showed affection in the workplace.
Even though their relationship had been approved by Hotch, the rest of the team hadn’t been told about it. Being profilers, they had probably figured it out, but no one would say anything until the two felt comfortable.
“Let’s go hun, I’ll make sure Hotch knows.” She said gently, holding out a hand Emily. The brunette hesitated for only half a second before taking JJ’s soft hand and standing with her purse over her shoulder.
With their fingers tangled together, the two women walked toward the exit and entered the elevator. As soon as the two were alone Emily dropped her head onto her girlfriend’s shoulder and coughed painfully into her hand. It sounded like she had been suppressing the fit for a while, and just let it run its course as her body shook from the force.
“Oh sweetheart. Why didn’t you say anything?” She murmured, brushing her lips across Emily’s hot temple. The brunette radiating heat and shivering simultaneously. JJ was itching to get her ill girlfriend home and into a warm bed.
“We were working.” Emily sighed, her voice raw and gravely. She shifted closer to the blonde, beginning to fall asleep standing up and JJ couldn’t help but smile. The woman she loved may be a workaholic, but at least she listened when told to. Well, to JJ anyway.
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#fever#sick fanfic#sick fanfiction#sickfic#fanfiction#sicknario#ill#illness#caretaking#fainting#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfction#criminal minds sickfic#criminal minds#emily prentiss#jj#jennifer jareau#cm fanfic#aaron hotchner#spencer reid#derek morgan#penelope garcia#hurt/comfort#jemily#jemily fanfiction#jj x emily#jennifer jareau x emily prentiss#sicktember#sicktember 2023#somber's sicktember
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No More Bad Dreams
This was requested by 🦊 anon who I am desperate to find as I am done with their latest fic but don't want to post it until I find them! Here's an old one in hopes that my tags will bring them back lol.
Elle is gone for two weeks and finds you sick, sniffly and miserable.
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Two weeks. Elle had been gone for two weeks. And she’d come back to find you in a shivering mess on the floor, whimpering to yourself about some sort of case related nightmare. She couldn’t imagine what being so sick on a case like the one she’d just left would’ve gotten you.
Penelope had been giving her updates on your condition, letting her know how you were refusing to eat and how high your fever was, etc. etc. She had worked her ass off to solve the case as quickly as possible, using every avenue to have to do so, some that she was not entirely proud of. The Unsub liked brunettes, so she flirted. It worked like a charm.
“Hey bud, it’s time to get off the floor.” She sighed, kneeling down beside you. She squeezed your shoulder, trying to pull you out of your nightmare. Your eyes flew open at the gentle touch and you flinched away, not fully recognizing the blurry, chocolate eye’d figure.
Those eyes brought you comfort, smoothing down the jagged edges of your fever induced nightmares and pulling you back into the real world. She was home and you were incredibly relieved. It wasn’t that you minded being alone, it was that you felt horrible and being alone was a hellish disaster that resulted in you falling asleep on the kitchen floor.
“Elle…” You rasped, reaching up for her with sluggish movements, feeling sort of like a baby with the way you were trying to grab her. Elle pulled you up into a sitting position and held you close, cradling your head against her chest.
You clutched a fistful of her loose shirt and coughed, your chest burning with the effort. Sitting up had made you dizzy and your vision was full of spots. There was a real concern that you might pass out, and definitely would have fallen and cracked your head on the floor without Elle’s support.
“You’re lucky you’re cute, because you’re being super dumb.” The brunette said gently, her voice full of kindness and love. That was her way of showing she cared, that was her way of showing affection. She didn’t often do showy romantic things, but she had her own way of proving her love.
After a particularly rough case she’d make the two of you mugs of cocoa and you’d curl up on the couch together with a crappy sitcom to wind down. Eventually, you’d get around to actually share what’s wrong with the other, but that typically required some sort of alcohol.
When either of you were sick though, all of the norms were gone. She’d spoil you with absolutely anything you wanted, even going as far as to make soup, which she absolutely despised. For a woman so good at cooking, she sure as hell hated it.
When she was sick she got extra clingy. You’d watch romcoms together, get her ice cream, help her shower and yell at Gideon if necessary. You knew she’d do the same for you. Your work schedule was incredibly demanding, working for the FBI was of course rewarding, but also exhausting. There were times when you just needed to rest and take care of yourselves.
“Have you checked your temperature at all?” Elle asked, pulling you out of your quiet musings. You squinted up at her, trying to remember anything from the last few days. Judging by the fuzziness in your brain and the heavy feeling in your limbs, you either hadn’t checked it, or you had and then neglected to take any sort of medication.
“I’m going to take that as a no,” Your girlfriend sighed, tucking a strand of your damp hair behind your ear. She laid a hand on your forehead and hissed softly, her expression turning from loving to pure worry in half a second. Tears filled your eyes at her sudden change and you pulled away, wondering if she’d be angry with you for neglecting your health. Your former partner would’ve been. They probably would’ve just left you alone to fend for yourself.
“Shit, your fever’s really high, we need to get this down, babe.” She said, cupping your cheeks with both of her hands. Her face was a mix of emotions, but you couldn’t detect any anger.
“Okay, here’s what we're going to do,” She decided, frowning over at the bathroom. She was probably trying to decide how exactly she would get you there. “I’m going to start the shower, but we're going to keep it lukewarm so that we can get your fever down a little. Do you think that you can shower on your own?”
You hesitated, honestly unsure if you could do it by yourself. You sniffled and rubbed your nose on your sleeve, giving her an uncertain nod. The brunette smiled and kissed your sweaty forehead, doing a good job at not showing her disgust.
“Good. You shower and I’ll make you some tomato soup.” She helped you stand and walked you to the bathroom, staying with you until the water was at a temperature she deemed acceptable.
“Need help changing?” The profiler smirked, raising her eyebrows at you. You wrinkled your nose and pushed her playfully, nearly falling over with the small expenditure of effort. She grabbed your waist to keep you upright, face contorting back into one of concern.
“Are you sure you can do this? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You forced a smile and nodded, blinking away the dark spots dancing in your vision.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t burn the house down.” You leaned over and kissed her forehead, pushing her out of the room.
The shower was awful. You made it about halfway through washing your hair before you got too dizzy to stand up and resolved to just sit on the floor under the cool spray. Not only did your body hurt, but the water was much colder than you thought it should be. Sure you had a fever, but was it really bad enough that it warranted pellets of ice on your head?
“Y/n, you alright in there?” Elle called, drawing you out of your spiral of self pity.
“M’okay. Out in a minute.” You slurred back, practically dragging yourself out of the shower. That's when you realized that you had forgotten a change of clothes. So there you were, standing in the middle of the bathroom, dripping wet, tears beginning to fill your eyes. Every minor inconvenience set you off when you felt this awful.
There was a bathrobe. Comfortable enough, and cozy. It wasn’t quite clothes, but it was clothes enough. You dried off quickly and crawled into the robe, wrapping yourself up in the soft fabric.
You emerged from the bathroom and plodded into the kitchen, leaning comfortably against the woman who was stirring the pot of soup. She chuckled softly when she saw your outfit and grinned at you.
“You look adorable, but you need some real clothes. C’mon sweetie, let's get you into bed.” She teased, turning off the stove before wrapping an arm around your waist. You put your head down on her shoulder and yawned hugely, feeling the heavy exhaustion weighing upon you.
Elle helped you into a soft shirt and flannel pants before laying you down in your big, soft bed. You sniffled softly and laid back, curling up under your duvet. She kissed your hairline and grabbed the remove, quickly turning on a Disney movie, which was one of your sickday pleasures.
“I’m going to get you a bowl of soup, just stay put.” You listened, too tired to get up and follow her anyway. Normally you'd just ignore her warnings and do what you wanted, but your body had pretty much given up on moving. You turned your attention to the television screen, on which an orange fish was swimming too far away from the reef. Stupid fish.
You were thinking about the damn fish and why it was making dumb decisions when Elle returned with a steaming bowl of tomato soup. She sat beside you on the bed and smiled, looking beautiful as ever. Her smile was gorgeous. Everything about her was gorgeous.
“You’re pretty.” You mumbled, sniffling quietly. The congestion had settled in your sinuses and you rubbed your nose on your sleeve before coughing harshly into your elbow. The coughs grated against your throat, bringing your attention back to the incredible pain there. As much as you hated to admit it, you felt absolutely miserable.
“Okay honey. Swallow this for me.” She produced a pill and a glass of water which you downed silently, wincing as the pill scraped down your throat.
“Good. Now, a few bites of soup and you can go to sleep.” Since when had she gotten so demanding? Well, she’d always been firm, but now it felt like she was being mean. You whimpered and took the bowl, uncertainty filling you.
She wrapped an arm around your waist and sat beside you, using the other hand to keep the bowl from spilling in your shaky grip. One bite. That’s all you managed, you couldn’t do it. The warm soup was probably supposed to help your throat, but all it did was make everything worse.
You shoved the bowl into her hands and shook your head, curling away from her. She looked at you with wide eyes, surprised by your sudden change in demeanor. She knew that you had mood swings when you were feverish, but this was unprecedented even for you.
“Hey, what is it?” She asked, putting the bowl down on the side table. She placed a hand on your hip but you jerked away, turning back to her with teary eyes.
“Please just don't–don’t touch me.” You ordered, trying to keep your voice from trembling as badly as it was. Elle nodded and hugged her arms to her chest, frowning at you.
“Okay, can you tell me what’s wrong?” How exactly could you tell her? How did you let her know that your body hurt and so did your mind. That the shadows were turning to twisted monsters in your mind. That all you wanted to do was sleep, but your body ached too badly to let you do so.
“I can’t-it hurts too much.” You finally admitted, feeling stupid for telling her that. You were an FBI agent. Well, you both were, but still. There was a mostly unspoken rule that as agents you couldn’t show weakness. And what had you been doing all day? Showing weakness. You hated it.
“Oh, love. You’re sick, of course it hurts. You don’t have to eat right now if you don’t want to, we’ll figure it out. Come here, we can just watch the movie for now.” She soothed, pulling you into her arms. You put her head on her chest, your body shaking as you cried. She didn’t mind, just shifted so that she could hold you more comfortably.
“Just watch the movie. We’ll get everything taken care of.” Elle rubbed your back and turned up the volume on the TV, just loud enough to draw your attention back to the screen. You were still sniffling quietly, trying to keep your tears inside. After what felt like ages, you felt your eyes begin to slip closed as Lilo and Stitch replaced the sounds of Finding Nemo.
“There you go mi querida. Rest, you’ll feel better when you wake up.” She promised, kissing your forehead. You loved it when she spoke Spanish to you, it felt strangely intimate and always served to calm you down. With those words embedded into your feverish mind, you let the dark, dreamless sleep take over, grateful for the mind numbing cold medicine. No more dreams for you.
#criminal minds#criminal minds sickfic#elle greenaway#elle greenaway x reader#sick reader#criminal minds fanfction#criminal minds fanfiction#fever#sick#illness#fanfiction#fanfics#hurt/comfort#fluff prompts
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No Sharing, No Caring
〘Prompt 30- Patient Zero〙
〘Notes- Well, last day of sicktember is here. Sorry I wasn't better at it, but I hope you all enjoyed what I did write. I said earlier that I may come back later to write the ones I missed, but in all honesty that probably wont happen. Instead I'll work them into something later :). Just a heads up, this one is quite a bit more angsty than usual.〙
〘Summary- Illness runs rampant in small spaces. (idk if this makes sense, sorry :/)〙
〘Word Count- 650〙
〘Pairing- Sick JJ x Sick Emily (CM)〙
〚Main Masterlist〛⌶〚Sicktember Masterlist〛
“This is your fault,” Emily whined, throwing a tissue at JJ. The blonde rolled her eyes and set down a mug of tea in front of her girlfriend, careful not to spill her own as she fell onto the couch beside the profiler.
“It’s not my fault; blame Hotch.” She grumbled, curling up as far away from Emily as she could. Since being forced to come home the brunette had done nothing but complain: the soup was too hot, her nose was stuffy, she was too cold, she felt dizzy. The woman who was so proud of her immune system got incredibly annoying when she was sick.
“You’re the one who had to take care of him and Spence.”
After Hotch had come into the office sick, he quickly spread it to Reid. With two members of the team down JJ had switched into what was affectionately called “team mom mode” and had paired up with Penelope to get them better.
Reid, as afraid of getting sick as he was, was terrible at keeping the germs to himself. It seemed that by sitting closest to him, Emily had pulled the short straw. The five of them -Morgan had decided to go home sick and Rossi was hiding from the bug- managed to last for a week until Strauss had just sent them all home.
“What was I supposed to do, let them suffer?” JJ snapped, frustrated tears welling in her eyes. She understood that Emily didn’t feel well, but neither did she. Her limbs ached, her head was pounding, the pressure in her sinuses was overwhelming, and she was freezing. All the blonde wanted was to curl up against her girlfriend and cry.
Emily, who had been glaring at the floor turned her head to steal a look at the woman beside her. JJ was furiously wiping her eyes, her quiet sniffles echoing in the otherwise silent room. Now she felt guilty. The brunette knew that she was being difficult, but she hadn’t realized just how mean she had been.
The two of them had been bickering a lot in the past few months, small misunderstandings turned to fights. The whole team had been stressed; they had been working nonstop which made the group illness almost a blessing in disguise. Everyone needed a break, though this wasn’t the way anyone wanted it to happen.
“Jayje, I’m sorry. I’m not being fair. You didn’t do anything wrong. Can I—” The brunette opened her arm, silently inviting JJ closer. The media liaison looked over, her nose running and eyes streaming tears that she couldn’t catch fast enough.
“Oh JJ, come here sweetheart.” She cooed, concern flooding her face. She could’ve sworn that JJ hadn’t been that sick a few hours ago, just the sniffles, the beginnings of a cold. But when she felt the heat of the blonde’s skin, Emily knew that her girlfriend was far worse off than she originally thought.
JJ tucked her head under the older woman’s chin, earlier anger forgotten. She let out a small sob, no longer bothering to quiet her cries. Emily tightened her grip on her crying girlfriend and used one hand to pull the blanket up around the two of them, wanting to quell the woman’s shivers.
The two didn’t speak, there wasn’t anything to talk about, not yet. They’d hash it out later. For now, they were both sick, both miserable and JJ was bawling her eyes out.
Emily held the woman she loved as she cried, knowing that she would eventually fall asleep. She sniffled and kissed JJ’s hot forehead, rubbing her back as she wept. She decided that after the blonde fell asleep, she’d call Penelope, certain that the tech analyst would have no issue coming over.
They both deserved to be taken care of, she’d figure out how to pay Garcia back when she was feeling better.
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#fever#sick fanfic#sick fanfiction#sickfic#fanfiction#sicknario#ill#illness#caretaking#fainting#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfction#criminal minds sickfic#criminal minds#emily prentiss#jj#jennifer jareau#cm fanfic#aaron hotchner#spencer reid#penelope garcia#hurt/comfort#jemily#jemily fanfiction#jj x emily#jennifer jareau x emily prentiss#sicktember#sicktember 2023#somber's sicktember#sick jj
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Of Misery and Murders
〖Notes: This is my CM series that I have over on my Ao3, but I figured that some of you over here might enjoy it as well!〗
〖Summary: Emily gets sick at the same time a deranged killer starts cutting up faces in Seattle Washington.〗
〖Word Count: 1.4k〗
〖Pairing: Jemily〗
〖WARNINGS: Guys. I cannot stress this enough, this is a casefic. I have created a serial killer and I am going into detail. Nothing will happen to our main characters, but there will be descriptions of blood/death. Please don't read if this is something that bothers you. It is purely plot related and (unrelated I suppose) this is an ongoing series.〗
☾Masterlists☽
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Emily ignored the fuzzy numbers on the thermometer’s screen and put the device away, resolving to take four Advil and take a double dose of non-drowsy cold medicine. She understood that the idea was a bad one, but she had to get through the day. There were mountains of paperwork and JJ had hinted at an incoming case that they would need all hands on deck.
The brunette bundled herself in a thick sweater and wrapped a scarf around her neck before taking one last glance in the mirror. She had done her best to cover the high flush on her cheeks and blend out the dark circles, but there was no denying it: she looked awful.
Emily almost fell asleep twice in the fifteen minutes it took for her to get to the BAU and she was starting to wonder if her decision to come to work had been a bad one. No, she was just doing what she needed to do. She was going to work, part of daily life. No damn cold would take her out of the game. She was a Prentiss and Prentiss’s don’t show weakness.
She stumbled into the BAU five minutes late (she had somehow forgotten how to get there halfway through the drive) and ran straight into Garcia. The tech analyst squeaked as her files spilled onto the floor and she dropped to the ground, scurrying to pick them up. Emily tried to make herself do the same, but her body just wasn’t replying to her brain's commands.
The brunette simply watched as her friend collected the papers, struggling to get her limbs to respond. When Penelope stood back up, her hair a bit out of place she frowned deeply and reached out to touch Emily’s cheek. The profiler managed to take a step away before the hand could connect and forced her political smile onto her lips.
“Oh my love, you don’t look so good.” She said, her voice full of concern.
“M’fine Pen. Didn’t get any sleep last night.” The brunette chuckled, trying to ignore the slight congestion littering her voice. Plus, she wasn’t lying. The persistent cough and aches in her bones had kept her up for most of the night.
“Okay, but that really doesn’t explain the scarf, Em. We’re barely into October, it's not that cold yet.” She pressed, not willing to let her concern go. Garcia could tell that her friend wasn’t feeling well, not only was it obvious, but she also had sort of a sixth sense for telling what was wrong with the people she loved.
“Drop it, Garcia.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead. It felt like there were fire ants crawling over her skin and she was regretting the extra cold medicine. Her mind was already fuzzy with fever and the medication wasn’t helping.
The blonde took her shoulders, eyes flooded with worry. It was that look that told Emily that she wasn’t going to win this one, not with Penelope anyway.
“I took DayQuil. It’s just a cold.” Emily murmured, rubbing her nose on her sleeve. She sniffled heavily and aimed a sneeze into her elbow which certainly didn’t help her case. The sneeze sounded sickly and didn’t give her any relief from the congestion, in fact, it just made it worse.
“That is not just a cold. You need-”
“Garcia! We can’t start without you to present!” Hotch snapped, yelling across the bullpen. His glare was full of impatience, and he sounded as though he would rip them in two if they didn’t hurry. Emily started forward but leaned heavily against a desk, a wave of dizziness crashing over her.
“You are so going home.” The blonde grumbled, taking Emily’s wrist. The exhausted woman didn’t protest, no one could see them anyway it didn’t matter. Plus, Garcia was keeping her balanced.
Emily found herself being dragged into the round table room, the tech analyst only dropping her arm when she knew that they would be seen. Hotch was staring at his watch impatiently, but his expression turned to one of mild concern when he saw his shivering profiler.
“Jeez Em, you look like shit.” Morgan commented, wrinkling his nose in a playful way.
“Bite me.” she said in return, plopping down in a chair as far away from him as possible. She pulled the chair close to the table and wrapped her arms around herself as she tried to conserve heat. Reid gave her a sideways glance and scooched away, probably worried about the germs. Emily really couldn’t blame him; she was probably a germ fountain.
“Prentiss, why are you here?” Hotch questioned, sounding genuinely appalled. He had a strict policy when it came to working while sick: you couldn’t. It put everyone involved in danger and he was sure to remind them all of that every flu season. His agents never listened to him, and it always turned into a lecture in which he could usually get them to leave.
“I work here Hotch. You hired me. Well, you didn’t fire me.” she replied, as sarcastic as ever. Her boss raised his eyebrow, slightly astonished that she was being so argumentative. He sighed as he studied her appearance, taking in the excess makeup and slight shivering.
“Go home, come back when you’ve been fever free for 24 hours. Garcia, present.” He dismissed her so quickly that Emily wasn’t quite sure that it had happened. The brunette stiffened at the comment, her resolve hardening. She would not go home over this shit, it was a head cold, not the plague.
“No. There’s a case, it is my job to work cases and catch killers. I don’t see you bowing out over a sore throat and the sniffles.” She snapped back, leaning forward in challenge. The two stared at each other for about fifteen seconds, before Hotch backed off, rolling his eyes in frustration.
“Fine. Penelope, go.”
All Emily could really say about the case was that there was someone in Seattle Washington stealing eyeballs, cutting off ears and noses and dumping bodies in the ocean. She didn’t know what the deal was with facial features, but he seemed to hate them.
“Dehumanizing his victims?” she asked, feeling the need to add her input. He definitely wouldn’t let her stay if she was useless to the team, she had to provide some sort of use. Reid nodded his agreement and gave her another little glance.
“Or maybe a fetish. There are no other wounds on the body, just the face. Do they know what he poisoned them with?”
“I don’t think we can assume the killer was a male yet, there were no signs of sexual assault and poisoning is most typically done women. The disfigurement of the face could be linked to jealousy, it would go with the dehumanization aspect.” JJ added, cutting Garcia off before she could answer.
“Sorry Pen, go ahead.” She apologized, quickly realizing what she had done. The perky blonde flashed her a smile and shook her head.
“Not to worry, sugarplum. It seems that the Unsub is using Arsenic as their poison of choice. Any other questions, my dears?” Penelope was great at acting cheerful while showing them awful images. It was probably because she never faced the screen.
“That’s all. Wheels up in thirty. Prentiss, stay back for a moment.” Hotch ordered, watching as they all hurried out. No one wanted to see the conversation between the two of them.
Emily stood and faced him, arms crossed in front of her. She was standing in an almost fighting stance, trying to look slightly intimidating. It was hard to take her seriously with the runny nose and tired eyes. If Hotch was being honest with himself, he truly wanted to take her home and ensure that she rested. He truly cared about his team; their wellbeing was incredibly important to him.
“Look Prentiss, I won’t make you stay behind, but only because we need all hands-on deck for this one. In any other situation, you would be suspended for this disobedience. Understand?” He asked, matching her stance. Part of her wanted to argue, but she really couldn’t think of a reason for it. It was just her stubborn streak and her fever clouded mind.
“Understood. May I go sir?” She swiped her fist across her drippy nose and waited for the sharp nod that meant she could stumble back to her desk and lean for a few seconds while she pretended to rifle through her go-bag.
She sagged against her desk and took a wheezy breath, wondering why the stupid medicine wasn’t working. The brunette let herself sit there for a few seconds then steeled herself against the dizziness, preparing for what was sure to be a long week.
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#fever#sick fanfic#sick fanfiction#sickfic#fanfiction#sicknario#ill#illness#caretaking#fainting#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfction#criminal minds sickfic#criminal minds#emily prentiss#jj#jennifer jareau#cm fanfic#aaron hotchner#spencer reid#derek morgan#penelope garcia#hurt/comfort#jemily#jemily fanfiction#jj x emily#jennifer jareau x emily prentiss#criminal minds case#casefic#major tw
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Escapade 1
Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader
Rating: Explicit, readers under 18 are not advised to read this story.
Tags: smut, best friends to lovers, possible angst at some point, porn with plot, mentions of weapons, minor OC appeareances for plot purposes, mentions of death for plot purposes, unprotected sex
Summary: The stress of the job can take a toll on one's mind and body, and as your friend Spencer and you come to realize: there're many fun ways to cope up with it.
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
A/N: This was supposed to be a one shot but people on AO3 asked for continuance and now I have made a very interesting mess. Enjoy and let me know what you think.
The most interesting part of working in the BAU was definitely the bouquet of personalities that the team had to offer. Not one of them was similar to the other, not in how they talked, nor thought or behaved; granted, that happened to be the biggest asset of the unit and what got them through most of the cases they had had so far.
Dynamics were always different, from one member to another, and certainly everybody seemed to fit the best with someone else. Prentiss and JJ, Garcia and Morgan, Rossi and Hotch, everyone but Spencer Reid. Or so he felt, until he met you. Being closer to his age than any other agent around him, he felt a slight relief knowing that you would join as the expert negotiator, finally someone that could relate to the struggles of what youth and inexperience could bring into this high-stress job.
Since social interactions were not really his forte, getting to know him was a bit of a challenge. And yet, it was the easiest part. A man who overshared and couldn’t hide his excitement about certain topics, smart like no other, and easily shaken by the vile nature of many of the subjects he got to study, you could read him like he was a children’s book since the moment you were introduced by Hotchner. Shortly after, and thanks to Morgan’s efforts to nudge the two of you into talking more, you became friends. You enjoyed his nerdy presence around you so much, he was fun in his own way and never ran out of topics of conversation, for obvious reasons. Spencer Reid was your FBI partner and friend, and as hard as it was to admit, you would even consider him your best friend.
Aware of said fact, you couldn’t stop asking yourself why, then, were you in this utility closet, standing with your chest against the wall, barely able to see your partner as he pounded inside you from behind, the waistband of your pants down to the mid of your thighs and feeling the way the fabric of his own brushed against your ass. Spencer leaned back trying to get a better view of his work, even when the darkness of the suffocating room would not allow much vision, his moans reduced to quiet but quick breaths. You missed the heat of his body once he pulled away, having been flush against you seconds before, and you let him know with a whimper. He was quick to emit a “shh” from his lips, knowing that if you got caught it would mean the end of your careers. Feeling him slide in and out of you was blissful, and the thrill of being found out was just adding to the knot forming in your stomach. He felt the twitching of your walls and quickly bent forward again, his clothed chest rubbing against your blouse as he whispered into your ear.
— Hold on — he let out — I’m almost there, too.
The restraint in his voice sent chills down your spine. He was trying his best to keep himself quiet, even when his hips wouldn’t give you a second of rest, you clung to the pores of the wall trying to hold back your climax as you felt his tip hit to the very end of your insides, he kept your lower body still with his fingers, his palms tightly gripping onto your clothes to avoid changing the angle he knew was driving you crazy. It took only a couple more deep thrusts to send you over the edge, you couldn’t help a moan at the feeling of your orgasm, and he was quick to cover your mouth with his hand as soon as he heard your voice start to come out, his free arm wrapped around your waist, pushing your ass further against him as he kept still to release inside you, burying his face into your neck with a low and quiet groan.
Your bodies pulled apart and you gave him a second to dispose of the condom he had previously put on, in the meantime you fixed your clothes and inspected the blazer you had removed and hung from a shelf before the act just to make sure it was not messed up from any cleaning materials. Spencer mimicked your actions and tidied himself up before you finally turned around to check on him and grinned for a bit once you locked eyes.
— You okay? — he inquired.
— Yes, Don Juan — you chuckled at his concern — It was nice. So much for “it was a one-time thing,” huh? — He responded to your question with an awkward, almost uncomfortable, laugh. This was not the first time you had done something like this with Reid and it most likely wouldn’t be the last one. — Okay, doctor, do me. — you said as you stood straight after sliding on your blazer.
— I… — Spencer furrowed his brows in slight confusion — I… think I just did?
— Not that, smart-ass — you snarked back playfully — the profile. Look at my outfit, my expression, my hair, everything that could not match the story that we came up with. Listen, we work with some of the brightest, most observant minds of the FBI, if we don’t cover our backs, they will find out pretty soon about it, so to keep this quiet we need to outsmart them.
— Right, right — he reminded himself of the pact you had made a couple of weeks before. With a prolonged glance he started to examine your body, head, chest, bottom, legs, anything that could give away the fact that he had just had you up against the wall doing your best to not scream his name outright. — Your shirt looks too tidy, if we were out buying coffee, it would have slipped out of the pants a little bit from the walking. It rained yesterday, but the mud of your shoes has already dried up from being inside, so you should probably damp it up in the bathroom, you usually don’t button up your blazer after midday so it would be odd if you just came back with it buttoned up — he made a quick motion with his finger to have you turn around, to which you happily obliged — your hair is slightly messy from the back… hold on. — you thought he was going to fix it himself, but instead you heard him type something into his phone — It’s windy today, so it’s okay that it remains like that.
He grabbed you by the shoulders to gently spin you once again, and his hands ruffled the top of your hair slightly. He retracted his arms once he was satisfied with his work and tensed up for you to examine him next. He looked oddly nervous and avoided eye contact, guess he wasn’t used to being an anatomy skeleton for students to observe. You observed his shoes, pants, shirt, everything on him intently, and you didn’t like to admit you spent a couple milliseconds more on his face than needed. Once you had gotten your verdict you began to talk.
— Even if it rained yesterday, the sun is out, so it’s a little bit hot today, it’s better that you remove your sweater vest, you rarely wear it outside because the heat makes you grumpy, so it wouldn’t make sense to put it on outside.
— I thought about that too but… — he said as he pointed at his shirt — this is way too wrinkled, and I ironed this morning before I came to work, Morgan or Prentiss surely noticed.
— That’ fine. — you said as you continued to observe him — We will drop a bit of coffee on your shirt, which will give you a perfect excuse to not remove the vest. Make sure to drop some on your shoes too and a bit on your pants. Also, your zipper, it’s too far up to the top, once you start walking it slides a little bit because the safety grip gives in slightly. Your hair also… — you reached to ruffle it roughly, to which he responded with an “ouch!” — Sorry, your hair is just always getting too messy with the wind, so we must keep that in character. Also, roll your sleeves up, you do that when you carry coffee trays.
— Wow. — he exclaimed as you helped him roll the shirt as you mentioned — I mean, I knew we observed everyone in the team a lot, but this was pretty impressive.
— Yeah. — you said absentmindedly — Hurry. We’ve been out here for eight minutes, the coffee shop is a four-minute walk, and the delivery boy is already outside the building.
— Right, right.
You stood behind the door as you often did. That was the modus operandi, he would go out to grab the coffee and let you know if the hall was clear, which it almost always was since it was a service hall, and you would go out after his text, often grabbing a cloth that you would claim having gone get it if any of the janitors happened to see you go out. You had everything planned, brilliant minds coming up with brilliant plans to get away with what they needed to do, or rather wanted to do. After sneaking out of the closet you headed to the bathroom. Shirt, shoes, blazer, hair, everything was fixed to the way Spencer had told you.
You met him halfway back to the office and he handed you one of the coffee trays. Morgan’s, Prentiss’s, Rossi’s, none for Hotch, JJ’s with cream, and Garcia’s caramel macchiato, you looked over the orders once again, everything seemed in place, nothing they could read on you that would be out of the ordinary. Steady pace, not too fast not too slow, just two partners walking back into the office.
— Glad you two are back. — Hotch said as soon as you entered the BAU floor — We’re adjusting schedules for the upcoming guest lectures we are meant to give during law enforcement week in DC, they are meant to be given to a group of selected universities.
— Why are you wearing you vest? — Morgan interrupted all of a sudden as he scanned Reid up and down. — It’s like a million degrees outside.
You froze in your place and did your best to not show the panic in your eyes, hoping all the attention would be on him instead of the muscles that had tensed up involuntarily. You looked at Spencer as well, trying to join the questioning look of everyone else. You had told him about the vest, why did he decide to ignore you? You were beginning to spiral into the scenario where Morgan found out and you were kicked to the curb and eventually ended up homeless before a motion from Reid pulled you out. He pulled on the neckline of the vest to awkwardly reveal a huge coffee stain on his right pec. Everyone seemed to either laugh or at least smile at the way he ashamedly pursed his lips. You joined in the teasing as to not arise suspicion, since in any other situation you would do exactly that.
— Don’t worry, Reid, the day will come when you win your endless battle against slippery sidewalks.
— Something fun always happens in your coffee escapades — Emily mentioned.
— Actually, — Reid began to ramble — “escapades” comes from the Spanish “Escapar” which means “to escape from a place or a situation”, and in English it can be translated as “to part into adventure” which implies that the objective of the travel is unknown, “Crusade” is a mission to retrieve something, more specifically the holy grail, that could compare to coffee-
— Reid. — Hotch said firmly when he noticed the rest of the members confusedly staring at the blond doctor.
— Sorry. — he said as he cut himself short, pursing his lips embarrassedly as he used to.
— As I was saying, the lectures that the BAU will be imparting in different universities have to cater to the needs of each student bodies, since we’re looking to recruit future members with them. Look over the files on your desks and propose topics to lecture on before the end of the day so we can start working on the actual content. We will meet later to discuss how we will split to do the tour without spreading our workforce too thin. Get to work.
With a single hand movement, Hotch finished the briefing of the uninteresting task and grabbed the cup that was meant for Rossi, likely to take it to his office since he had shut himself in there working on something unknown. Morgan and Prentiss grabbed theirs too, and JJ mentioned something about bringing Garcia’s to her. Before heading back to your place, and making sure no one else was looking, you leaned back onto Reid’s desk with him resting comfortably against his seat. You looked at each other with a slightly smug smile. It was the first time you had gotten away with it at work, and it had been nothing short to exciting.
— An escapade. Doesn’t sound too shabby. — you said, your lips still curled up. — New code word?
— I do think that “escapade” is a way better code word than “let’s do the thing". It's not very FBI-y if you ask me. Although, I still have to argue that an escapade has no apparent purpose and it’s just for the thrill of the adventure, as for what we’re doing we clearly have an objective in mind.
— Sure, that’s a good point of view, but also, you never know what’s going to happen in this adventure, and of course won't be the same every time.
— Well, yeah, but the goal of the adventure doesn’t really change, it’s still to achieve the holy… — he stopped himself, threading carefully over his words, trying not to sound too tacky — the holy grail?
— Well, it certainly felt holy. — you took a sip of your coffee as you spurted those words.
— Hey! — he darted out loudly before lowering his voice. — Someone could hear us.
He stopped you mostly to avoid getting any redder on the face. He would so confidently take you in a utility closet, but being praised for his performance was making him shy? God, you found this man so amusing.
— Whatever, I’m not discussing the etymology of our code word with you. Let’s get to work if we don’t want to end up with boring lectures.
You pushed yourself away from his desk and walked back to yours, just a couple meters from his, to obey the orders you had given yourself. You buried your nose into the files that the boss had left for you, so much that you didn’t notice the way he kept slightly grinning in your direction. He knew he needed to wipe it out soon, or all the planning, sneaking, and stealth would go down the drain. Whatever it happened at work from now on, there was something for certain, you could always look forward to the next escapade.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#reid x reader#criminal minds#reid smut#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid/reader#reid/reader#criminal minds fanfction#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#how am i supposed to tag this thing#mine
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What I'll write for
Criminal Minds (Send me Gideon recs pls I could write for eons about him)
My Babysitters a Vampire (Benny is a fav but I'll write for them all)
Our Flag Means Death (the more Izzy the better)
Dexter (except I will absolutely not tolerate the incest storyline pls no)
Hannibal
What We Do In The Shadows
Doctor Who (Classic and New)
Marvel, mostly Loki + Agents of Shield
Scream (Billy and Stu Mostly, need to refresh on the newer ones b4 I screw up a character lol)
Hell let's throw Scooby Doo in here too because I'm obsessed with Matthew Lillard and who doesn't love a good mystery with ghosts?
#fanfic#izzy hands#marvel fanfiction#ofmd#billy loomis x reader#our flag means death#scream#spencer reid fanfic#loki fanfction#doctor who#marvel#what we do in the shadows#hannibal#dexter#criminal minds#penelope garcia#hannigram#stu macher#billy loomis#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#stede bonnet#edward teach#loki x reader#loki fanfic#loki laufeyson#loki series#loki odinson#tva loki#lokius
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Getting dicked down would solve a lot of my problems tbh
#it don't even have to be a real dick#I just ugh you know???#izzy hands#mbav#scream#criminal minds#benny weir#ofmd#loki fanfction#spencer reid#benny weir fanfic#I blame all the men that make me obsessed with them#yeah I'm boy crazy sometimes#wish I had a girl to sweep me off my feet tho#ugh girls are so perfect#i love women
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doyoutakerequests?
Absolutely!
#izzy hands#ofmd#scream#loki fanfction#loki fanfic#loki x reader#marvel fanfiction#our flag means death#billy loomis x reader#criminal minds#mbav#ethan mbav#rory mbav#ethan morgan#rory keaner#benny weir#my babysitters a vampire#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid
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