#criminal minds fix it fic

[storiesofsvu]

A Thin Line

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, some medical situations (again, likely some inaccuracies, don't come for me), minor mentions of the Lauren arc/past trauma/anxiety, but mainly fluff and all happy ending! Covers a bingo square for @prentiss-theorem and also is a fix it fic (i guess lol) for s7e15 of the same title. I just thought things were kinda brushed over in the aftermath.... so here we are.

The team had been in San Bernardino, California for nearly a week now solving what was originally thought to be a series of home invasions linked to gangs in the area. It was after piecing together the threads and a victim getting away that you were able to apprehend the unsub, the team was split up between addresses, Rossi, Reid and Hotch over at the unsubs while Morgan, JJ, Emily and you were heading to Councilwoman Hillary Ross’, knowing that she was one of two next likely targets.

Everything seemed to be going to plan as Derek and JJ snuck around to the back of the house, waiting only on you and Em to burst through the front as Emily announced herself, calling out into the house at just the wrong moment. Her eyes darted toward the unsub, noting the gun in his hand, pointed directly at her and only a second later she felt the burning in her shoulder, jolting back into the wall behind her as she groaned.

“Shit!”

“You’re hit.” You stalled, turning back to her and she nudged you in the direction of the unsub.

“I’m fine!”

“He’s upstairs!” You called over to the other two who had burst through the back door, flying up the stairs to take the unsub down.

“Go.” Emily urged, wincing as your hand came up to the injury, pressing against the wound.

“Like hell I’m going anywhere right now.” You muttered, tugging at your radio to call for medics.

“I said I’m fine.” She insisted, nudging at you once more, “you can go.”

“It’s already two on one, I’m sure they’re doing great. And you’re not fine, you just took a bullet Emily.” You could feel her blood slowly seeping in between your fingers, you would’ve been worried if it wasn’t for the amount of attitude you were getting from her, the scowl persistent on her face.

“It’s nothing.” She grumbled, letting out an annoyed sigh at the flashing lights outside as the ambulance pulled up, “oh come on.”

“You’re gonna need stitches at the bare minimum, c’mon.” Gently lifting her arm over your shoulder you helped her outside and to the paramedics.

Much to Emily’s dismay, she was told she would likely need more than just stitches, that an actual doctor would have to take a look at her before making the official decision and before she knew it she was being transported to a hospital. Even more annoying was that her adrenaline was starting to wear off, the fight or flight draining from her body as the pain began to creep in. She winced as she moved on the stretcher, letting out a quiet hiss and felt her cheeks flushing as your gaze shot to her, concern in your eyes.

“We’re almost there.” You murmured softly, reaching to squeeze her hand, almost surprised at the way her hand wrapped around your thumb, keeping you there instead of letting you pull away. The touch brought a comfort Emily needed but wasn’t ready to ask for, wasn’t ready to admit she even wanted. Her gaze remained turned away from you as she let out a low breath, trying to will the immense pain in her shoulder to go away.

The emergency room was a cacophony of noises, patients crying, yelping out, doctors, paramedics and nurses calling out to each other, demanding what they needed for their cases, alarm bells going off, phones ringing off the hook, the whir and beeping of machines. It was completely overstimulating and enough to block out the pain Emily was feeling briefly while they rolled her through the admittance stages. Your hand had been ripped away from hers as they’d unloaded her from the ambulance, leaving a cold spot on her skin as she tried to block out her surroundings. The lights were bright, still harsh even if she closed her eyes, she felt someone prodding at her skin as they started an IV, grimacing as the needle pierced her skin, the smell of rubbing alcohol burning at her nostrils. The noises from the ER were now slightly muffled, but there were as many beeping monitors and fast talking doctors moving around her right now. She could just hear your voice over the hum of noise, giving her credentials and details of what happened to a doctor, conversation talked over by one of the paramedics as she heard her stats being listed off. She was hooked up to another couple of machines, creating more beeping that was beginning to overwhelm her before the room suddenly seemed to empty.

“Paramedics patched you up pretty good.” Your voice rung through the air and her eyes cracked open, looking up at you with hesitancy in her eyes.

“Then we can go, right?”

“No.” You laughed softly, “you’re just not as emergent as some of the other cases. You’re under observation until they can get you a CT to check for internal damages and we’ll go from there.”

“I hate hospitals.” She grumbled, shifting awkwardly on the gurney, hating how on display she felt. The remaining nurse in the room seemed to sense her uncomfortable-ness, moving over and adjusting it so it was propped up and she could sit upright.

“It shouldn’t be too long Agent Prentiss; they’re just waiting for a backlog at the CT machine to clear out.” They explained, giving you both a brief smile before they disappeared from the room.

“Since when do you have a problem with hospitals?” You asked, dropping onto a spare stool, watching her curiously.

“I’ve just spent enough time in and out of them over the past year.” She replied quietly, ducking her gaze as she picked at her fingernails.

“Hey,” your hand reached out, stopping her destructive movements and she glanced toward you, “you’re non emergent, you’re sitting upright and talking and like you’ve been insisting since Ross’, you’re fine.”

“Thanks.” She flashed a tight smile to you and you squeezed at her hand, only pulling away when your phone pinged and you dug it out of your pocket to read the message.

“They got him, finishing up paperwork now. Hotch wants to know if you want them to meet us here.”

“Oh god no!” Emily groaned, wincing as she moved her arm to run a hand over her face, “I don’t need a fucking audience waiting for me. Tell him they can go home, hell, you can go with them.”

“Well tough titty.” You pocketed your phone, “I’m not going anywhere. You got shot; I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Emily felt a warmth spreading through her chest, knowing that she had someone by her side for the entire thing, unlike last time, she wasn’t facing this on her own. She felt her heart start to calm down rather than racing in her chest, sighing softly as her body relaxed into the stretcher. She was fine, she was going to be fine.

“You’re too nice to me, you know that.” She rolled her head to look at you, a dopey smile on her face and you practically snorted.

“I think those drugs are starting to kick in Prentiss.”

She frowned, pouting at you and you laughed again, this time glancing away as you prayed she was too distracted to pick up on the thudding of your heart in your chest.

Okay. Maybe the warmth spreading through her was the painkillers, but at least she wasn’t focusing on the pain in her shoulder and the terror of being trapped in a hospital anymore.

Though that sense of calm and comfort only lasted the next hour. The results from the CT were exactly what Emily didn’t want to hear.

“Surgery?!” She protested, “you can’t be serious! Can’t you just leave it in?”

“No.” The doctor chuckled softly, “that risks more damage than taking it out.”

“So just rip it out now, here.”

“I do that and you’re gonna hate me for how much pain your in.” They countered.

“Full blown surgery just seems like a complete waste of time and resources.” Emily commented, “for something as trivial as this?”

“Agent Prentiss, I can assure you it’s a very simple procedure and it won’t take very long at all. We’ll have you patched up and out of here by morning with some pain killers.”

“No I—”

“If there’s an issue with pain killers, general anesthesia isn’t in the same, you’ll most likely sleep it off and only feel a little bit groggy when you wake up from being under.”

“No, that’s the part I don’t want.” Emily felt like her heart was beating out of her chest, her throat tight and she wasn’t fully able to catch her breath. The beeping next to her seemed to be getting louder with each moment that flickered by and she was sinking into a nightmare where she couldn’t tell tonight apart from the last night she’d spent in a hospital.

“Em…” Your voice was soft, your hand coming up to squeeze at hers gently, thumb rubbing reassuringly, a cool touch on her burning skin. “Just breathe for me, okay?” You turned to the doctor, “is there any way you could do this with a local anesthesia or something? Something where she doesn’t have to be asleep?”

“There likely isn’t a doctor who would.” He replied, “the CT didn’t give full visibility, if an artery gets nicked we’d have to put her under in a rush and adding extra things on the to do list in a situation like that isn’t ideal. I didn’t see anything in her medical history about a reaction to anesthesia.”

“It’s not exactly medical.” You replied, feeling Emily’s hand squeezing at yours.

“I don’t have the greatest track record with being put under.” She muttered and the beeping on the heart monitor started to increase again.

“Hey…” you shifted from your spot on the stool so you were perched on the edge of the gurney, grabbing her other hand, “look at me.” You waited for a moment until she actually looked up at you, the fear in her eyes slowly melting away as you shot her a small smile, “you need to stop deflecting and shutting down. They’re just trying to do their jobs and get you outta here healthy and in one piece, and that’s exactly what’s going to happen. You’ve got a bullet in your shoulder and the longer it’s in there the more risk you’re at, so let’s do this, okay? You’re not alone, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere okay? I’ll take care of you. I’ll be as close by as I possibly can the entire time, I mean, they’ve gotta give us some leeway, we are federal agents.” You raised a brow in the direction of the doctor who let out a huff of a laugh mixed with a sigh.

“I’ll have someone escort you to the gallery.”

“Thank you.” You nodded, “And like you being knocked out is gonna have me running off, I promise. I’ll be there the whole time and when you wake up.”

Emily let out a long low breath, the tightness in her chest finally easing as chewed on her lip, “okay. You better not be lying, if I wake up on the other side of the country you’ll be the one with a bullet lodged in your shoulder.”

“Em!” You scolded with a laugh, watching as a small smile finally broke out on her lips.

Emily focused on her breathing and remaining calm, listening to your voice as you walked with them all the way down to the OR floor. She wasn’t even sure what you were rambling on about, you always had the most ridiculous stories from when you babysat your nephew and they were mindless enough yet also wild enough that it would steer her mind away from the thought of being put under again. You squeezed her hand once more, saying a quick ‘see you soon’ before you were taken up to the gallery and you watched the way Emily’s eyes flicked toward you as she counted down from ten, letting out a breath to know that you were there, watching over her and this would be over before she even knew it.

The low beeping and dull ache in her shoulder were what roused her first, shifting slightly in the bed with a quiet groan, trying not to agitate her shoulder too much. Without opening her eyes she knew there was a soft light coming from somewhere in the room, much nicer than the glare of the fluorescent overheads and the next thing her ears picked up was the sound of a page of a book being turned before the creaking of a chair.

“Em?” Your voice whispered into the night, leaning forward against the side of the bed and she groaned, her eyes fluttering open.

“Shit still sucks.” She complained, pushing herself up to sitting and you let out a chuckle.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not too bad.” She swallowed, reaching out for the glass of water on the nightstand. As she fully woke up and her eyes adjusted to the light in the room she was able to take you in, spotting the bags under your eyes, the slight redness in them and the fact that you’d somehow snagged a hospital issued hoodie that was about three sizes too big to curl up in. “How late is it?” She asked and you looked at your watch.

“Almost six.” You replied with a tired yawn.

“You haven’t slept yet.” It wasn’t a question; it was an observation and you shrugged.

“I wanted to be awake when you came to, doctor said it wouldn’t be too long. And I definitely wasn’t about to sleep while you were in surgery, besides, it was pretty cool to watch.”

Emily observed you for a moment, her eyes drilling into you so much that you ducked your gaze, picking up your own drink to distract yourself, praying the heat in your cheeks wasn’t noticeable in the low light of the room.

“Why would you do this much for me? You could have left with the rest of the team.”

“I promised you wouldn’t be alone. I care about you, I wanted you to feel safe, I mean, you’re my… friend.” You shrugged it off, picking at the sleeve of your hoodie.

“Okay, now who’s shutting down and deflecting?” She asked with a tease in her voice, prodding at your arm and you let out a soft sigh, glancing back up at her with a playful glare in your eyes.

“Being in the hospital alone sucks enough on its own. The last time you had surgery you woke up across the world completely isolated and if that was me I would’ve been terrified. I know you don’t want to admit it and I’ll never mention it to the rest of the team but you were scared earlier and I wanted to make sure you knew I would be here for you, no matter what. And I… would like to hope that if the tables were turned that you’d do the same for me?”

“Are you kidding me?” A laugh burst from her lips, “of course I would! I really don’t think you have any idea how much you mean to me. You still being on the team and being around was the main reason I decided to stay, no matter how awkward it was with everyone else.”

“Now you’re just making stuff up.” You ducked your gaze once again, this time no doubt the blush on your cheeks noticeable.

“Not at all.” Emily’s finger curled under your chin, turning your eyes up to her, “you were an absolute sweetheart today without even needing to ask and that was exactly what I needed, even if I am too stubborn to say anything. When we get back I’d really like to pay you back by taking you to dinner.”

“Really?” Your brow furrowed, wondering if she was finally stepping across the line the two of you had been toeing since she’d gotten back.

“Yeah.” She softly pinched at your chin, “you can read me better than anyone else. You know me almost better than I do some days and… I really care about you too.”

“Okay.” You laughed softly, the smile remaining on your cheeks, “well then I think that sounds great.”

“Great.” She smiled across at you, “it’s a date.” She gently tugged at your arm, “now c’mon, you need to get some sleep and there’s plenty of room up here.”

With a small laugh you shifted, kicking off your shoes and sliding under the blanket into Emily’s embrace, careful not to nudge her left arm too much. You let out a small yawn as you nestled into her uninjured shoulder, her free arm wrapping around you as she relaxed back into the bed, a sigh of relief finally feeling you in her arms. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that she was completely safe and wouldn’t have to worry about being alone ever again, not with you around. Her lips brushed against the top of your head; a feather light kiss left on your hair as she spoke.

“Thank you.”

________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @strongsassysexysloane @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @tommyriddleobsessed @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble

[frankiebirds]

i think it's interesting that reid looks at gideon specifically right after this line. maybe it's just that he feels gideon looking at him. maybe its just that they're close. or maybe he looks towards gideon because it hurts particularly badly that gideon didnt help :(

[somefanficrecomendations]

X-MEN PODFIC REC

An Act Too Often Neglected read by reena_jenkins First Class, (Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier), 12 min Logan didn’t much like Erik Lehnsherr when he first met him in a bar about a year ago. Logan likes him a lot less after he dumps Logan’s tranquilized carcass on Charles Xavier’s doorstep like a dog presenting its owner with a stunned rabbit.

But Also the Sex Thing read by aethel-multivioce, elaineofshallot, reena_jenkins, secretsofluftnarp, Shmaylor, silverandblue, wingedwords Alternate Timeline Movies, (Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier), 17 min, Crack, Matchmaking Professor X and Magneto have a few additional instructions for Logan, as long as, you know, he's going to be back in time

Enigma read by paraka Movieverse, (Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier), 1.5hrs, Time-Travel Fix-It      Written for the following prompt: Erik dies, or finds a reversey-time mutant, or a magical time travelling device, and wakes up in the past. This time, though, it's before he ever met Charles - in fact, it's before his mother died.      He can save his mother that one time (thanks to his mastery over powers carrying back), but what does Erik do after that? Does he stick around, or escape and run to find Charles again (and hope everything doesn't go wrong)?

Just Like A Child read by quietnight Deadpool, (Vanessa Carlysle/Wade Wilson), 56 mins     “Honey,” Wade calls over his shoulder without taking his eyes off their visitor. “Why is there a teenage mutant in our breakfast nook? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he says to Negasonic, who raises her eyebrows owlishly.      Vanessa comes out of the bedroom and hooks her chin over Wade’s shoulder.      “Do you think she heard me getting my spanking?” he whispers. “Because that was *private* noise.”      “I don’t know,” Vanessa says. “But she looks like she needs some coffee and pancakes, don’t you think?”      Negasonic grins. It’s scary as fuck.

If You Liked The Book, You'll Hate The Movie read by croissantkatie First Class, (multi), 6.25 hrs, AU-No Powers, AU-High School It’s not until Hank realizes half the class are glancing towards the back of the classroom with something like nerves and something like schadenfreude that he finds out Alex Summers is back.

Meeting the Family read by SalazarTipton X-Men x Criminal Minds, (Remy LeBeau/Spencer Reid) 35 mins, 5+1 The five times that Remy meets Spencer's family on his own and then the time the whole team truly meets Remy and Spencer's actually there for that one.

[rianavi]

nightmare (spencer reid x reader)

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer shows up at your door late at night, hoping that you can somehow calm him down from his nightmare

contains: comfort/hurt, fluff, angst (if you squint), reader and spencer arent dating yet, mutual pining, obsession, nightmares, talk of murder

wc: 0.5k just a short drabble

Your sat at your couch, mug of tea in hand while you flip through the pages of your book.

This was something you’ve down your whole career. Working with the BAU meant a lot of stressful cases and sights. Sometimes all you needed was to relax and escape into the fantasy world of Faerie.

You had just marked your page and began to get ready for bed when you heard a knock at the door.

Your surprised when you find Spencer standing at your door, hands intertwined in front of him while he rocks on his heels.

“Spencer? What’s going on? Come on in.” You open the door fully and gesture him in. Locking the door behind him.

He stands in front of you, hands twitching and ears flushed red. “I, uh, didn’t know where else to go.”

You notice the slight tremble in his voice, even when he covers it with a cough.

Worried you hesitantly grab his hand and pull him over to the couch. You sat down putting some distance between the two of you and let go of his hand, knowing he has a thing for germs.

You miss the frown on his face before he clears his throat and begins speaking. “I had a dream. A bad one.”

He looks up at you and takes in the warmth and nurturing feeling that radiates from you. “Do you wanna talk about it?” You ask, leaning into the arm of the couch and pulling a blanket over your bare legs.

“Um, it was about the case. Except it was you who had gone in instead of Hotch. It wasn’t just some cuts and scrapes either, you had gotten shot. In the hospital, the doctors told us that you wouldn’t make it.” He whispers the last part and looks down at his hands while they fiddle with the frayed ends of his sweater.

“Spencer, it’s okay to have nightmares, everyone does. Hell even Hotch does. I’m alright, I’m alive and well, sitting right here.” I grab his hand and look into his eyes.

“I’m okay.”

“But what if you’re not? What if someday you get hurt and- and you don’t come back.” He moves his hands around frantically before staring at you.

“What if you don’t come back to me?” He whispers, voice trembling and hands grabbing at yours.

The sight makes your heart break and you immediately grab onto his wrists, mindful not to hurt him.

“Spencer you listen to me. I am okay, I am alive, and I will always come back to you. There’s a reason we go in with backup and spend time planning. I promise you Spencer I won’t go away.”

You stare into his eyes and slide your hands into his. “Besides it’s not that easy to get rid of me.”

He smiles at you and shuffles forward wrapping his arms around your waist.

Taken aback you freeze, your hands hover over his back and your breath hitches.

Before he takes your halt in the wrong way, you wrap your arms around his neck while he burries his face into your neck, enjoying your warmth.

“Thank you.” He whispers softly into your hair.

The rain against your window seems to match up with his breathing.

[soul-wanderer]

Will "how dare you want some privacy in terms of your private life when it comes to your work"

Will "I don't care about your wish for privacy and will tell your entire team that you are pregnant"

Will "I am going to propose to you in front of your team so you can't say no, because I know you were unsure if you wanted to get married in the first place"

Will "I am going to accuse and guilt trip you for being passionate about your job, something I have known since day one, but goodness forbid a woman wants to be more than a mother"

JJ "you are my husband, but you are not the one I cry for when I need to be saved"

but also

JJ "you are my husband, but you are not the one I confide in when I am at my worst"

[missmitchieg]

I went looking for fics with a certain tag and saw this

so I'm writing a fic to rectify that

[50044w44s]

Spencer will never love Sky the way Sky loves Spencer.

Fic: Underground Affluence on AO3

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Hey!

Just wanna say I really like your writing🫶🏻😊

I’m just curious to why you write like this:

_u/sf/d_ = up/straight forward/down (depending on your height) 

_y/e/p’s/n_ = your ex-partner’s name (the ex is an ass so add the name of someone you dislike here) 

_y/n_ = your name 

I only ask because in the time I’m reading I will forget what they stand for (except y/n)😅

But also because I find it unpleasant (idk the right word for it?) for my reading when I read _y/n_ instead of just y/n. Like y/n it’s just more simple if that make sense?

Idk if anyone feels the same, but yeah I still really like your work🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi lovely Anon!

Thank you so much for your ask and that you like my writing 😊

I have actually answered this before and you can see that post here (linked) I also did a poll on it and everyone voted that I start formatting _y/n_ as y/n which I now do. So if you go to my page, all my fics starting with Roses and Sparkling Water are formatted the new way! I do really care about how my readers feel about formatting so I have started to change that. I haven't had time to go back to my old fics and change the old formatting to the new yet. However, I do like consistency, so maybe I'll try and start going back and doing one a week until they are all y/n instead of _y/n_. I'll update this post when that happens.

As for the _u/sf/d_ bits, I do that to be as inclusive as possible. I know that if I was standing in front of Hotch, I'd have to look up at him, but not all of my followers are my height. I want to make sure people feel like they can actually picture themselves in the reader's shoes and not just have it be an insert of me.

Thank you so much for your kind ask and for letting me know you like my work. That makes me soooo happy. I'm kicking my feet as we speak in the coffee shop. I hope you have a lovely day and week Anon - Levi ❤️

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

I accept and appreciate all comments and constructive criticisms of all my work. As a teacher, it is highly appreciated. I also love mail, so if you wanna tell me something about our fav little guys or have a story idea or request, feel free to ask me.

[gold-onthe-inside]

if anyone needs more evidence of criminal minds being copaganda, in exit wounds they literally haul in everyone who's got a prior, or a bruise or bloody clothes and then keep a suspect in custody for 24 hours when there's no evidence of wrongdoing and act like it's a completely reasonable thing to do because 'hey, if you're in custody and the killer strikes again, then you're in the clear' ... which by the way is exactly the kind of logic they used in fucking witch trials and is not how the law is supposed to work ... and THEN HIS MOM IS KILLED and they're really just gonna go like, oops?

fucking look at that holding cell. what the fuck?

[teawan]

just watched the tobias hankel eps. I don't think anyone understands the emotional turmoil I just went through my heart was pounding that was so fucking terrifying and I can't believe they just. moved on. I literally just sat there and watched the show and I feel like I need therapy.

[queer-whatchamacallit]

So I’ve started a project of how I would rewrite criminal minds if given the opportunity and also the ability to research a lot of things

One of the main critiques is that everyone (Spencer) experiences an unrealistic amount of trauma that doesn’t progress them at all or makes them worse characters

This is how I would rewrite Hotch’s leaving, so it’s still traumatic but not in a senseless ‘way too many serial killers have attacked this guy’ kinda way

Jack has spent most of his life disliking that his beloved dad wasn’t there a lot but knowing that he couldn’t change this at all

He doesn’t want to say anything because he knows it’ll make Hotch feel bad, but sometimes he wonders if his dad doesn’t want to be home with him

He’s 11, and Jess tells him that Hotch is going to be late coming home again. He confides all that in her

She just tells Aaron that Jack has been having a hard time lately with the fact that Hotch is unreliable

He promises he’ll make it to Jack’s friend hangout because they all want to hear about him being in the FBI, but they had to reschedule twice

Jack starts being more distant with him

It all culminates when Hotch is working a case in New York and a snow storm is just starting to fall

It’s like 4 pm, and they’re not really getting anywhere in the case

Then Hotch gets a call from Jess saying that Jack just had a seizure lasting almost 6 minutes, and she already called an ambulance

Hearing this, he immediately drops what he’s doing, packs up his go-bag and takes one of the police cars to the airport

All of the flights are delayed because of the snow, so he starts driving in the snowy soon-to-be dark all the way to Virginia

Maybe an hour into the drive, he’s just crossed the border into Pennsylvania, there’s snow blowing wildly across the view of his headlights, it’s gotten a little bit dark, and in his desperation, he hits the car in front of him

*insert dramatic cut away to everyone else working on the case in show, except I have no idea what the case would be, so we’ll go back to the this*

It would later prove to only leave a little dent on both cars, but he put the car in park, gripped the steering wheel with whitening knuckles, and bashed his head back into the seat as hard as he can

He let out a sigh between gritted teeth and got out to greet the other driver

“One hell of a storm, huh?”

Hotch hummed. He didn’t have time to talk about the fucking weather

“Are you alright? You’re shaking.”

He’d hardly noticed. “I’m fine, but believe or not, I’m in a bit of a hurry, so I don’t mean to be rude, but I really can’t waste much time.”

“Sure thing.”

The two exchanged everything they needed to exchange before getting out of the biting cold, and Hotch resumed driving

He made it to the hospital around midnight

Jack’s doing pretty okay, but even if he knows Hotch couldn’t have gotten there any quicker, it still feels horrible that he wasn’t there for him for a very scary experience

Hotch decides to work from the office for the next couple cases, but it very quickly starts to make him antsy

A little over a month later, Jack has another seizure (this time 4 min but still) and gets diagnosed with epilepsy

Knowing that he hasn’t felt this uncomfortable in a job since his time as a prosecutor and knowing that he can’t have a repeat of fearing for hours that he might not be there for Jack, his favorite person in the world when he’s confused and terrified, he leaves the BAU

I don’t know how much of this v you’d be able to see in show, but I just like thinking about it

He starts working as a high school psych teacher in Jack’s school district (being near DC, there wasn’t exactly an opening for a criminology teacher)

He’s able to be a much better father to Jack, and he doesn’t forgive Hotch right away, but they slowly grow back together

With the reliable school schedule, Hotch is able to start attending therapy appointments and repairing the very bad everything about his brain functions

Jack convinces him to start a podcast about his BAU experience and basic profiling, and it’s fairly successful

Garcia finds it and shares it with the rest of the team

A couple years later, everyone has a sort of reunion, and Hotch seems happier than anyone’s seen him for as long as they can remember

[mostclevermiss]

Introducing, Alejandra Milani: expert interrogator, has no time for anyone’s shit, blacklisted by the CIA and Homeland, the Argentinian Menace, and the woman who is about to sweep Spencer Reid off his mismatched-socked feet.

Face claim for SSA Alejandra Milani (picrew made by poika)

[gaydryad]

working on pride art in advance and having way too much fun futzing around with outfit colors. ft. the new aperiodic regular tile

[spencerreidenjoyer]

welcome home | spencer reid x reader

word count: 2.2k, rating: 18+/explicit

warning/tags: smut and fluff, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, munch!spencer reid, established relationship

a/n: hello! this is my first spencer/criminal minds fic and am new to posting fic to tumblr!! i wrote this in 2 hours in a frenzy lol. please let me know if u like this, enjoy!

You wake when the bedroom door creaks open. Spencer’s been meaning to get it fixed, but he’s been away so often recently.

A dark figure in the doorway startles you as you blink, your eyes adjusting to the darkness, and you reach for your phone as you sit up but a familiar voice soothes any of your anxieties.

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you answer, even though Spencer coming in most definitely woke you up. “Hey. Welcome home.”

Spencer walks over to your side of the bed, turning the lamp on the bedside table on. The gentle, yellow glow fills the room. You see how sweetly Spencer is looking at you. You smile up at him, and Spencer leans in to kiss you. He tastes like coffee.

“Told you not to drink coffee so late,” you chastise playfully. “You always have trouble falling asleep when you do.”

“Emily made me a cup on our way back from New York, I couldn’t say no,” Spencer shrugs, smiling. 

You shake your head, pulling the knot of his tie loose. 

“Go take a shower before you come to bed, baby,” you say, patting his cheek. “I’ve been missing cuddling my boyfriend to sleep.”

“Don’t wait up. Get some more rest, Y/N,” Spencer hums, before he turns around and enters the bathroom. 

You can’t fall back asleep, not just yet. You decide to scroll mindlessly on your phone while the sound of the shower running provides some ambient noise. You hear Spencer’s not-so-in-tune humming over the water, and it makes you smile to yourself.

Spencer always scolds you for taking too long in the shower. Says it’s a waste of water. You often suggest you should shower together, leaving Spencer a bumbling, red-faced mess. It’s cute. 

It doesn’t take long for him to step out of the shower, towel-drying his hair. You turn to face him to make a cheeky comment, but all you see is a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping down his torso, tanned skin still wet. Your lips parted still, you look up and meet his eyes. Spencer quirks an eyebrow, curious. 

You swallow, attempting to make a smooth comeback. “Couldn’t have towelled yourself off in there?”

Spencer chuckles, “Didn’t bring a change of clothes in. Thought I might as well change out here.”

You feel your cheeks heat, but you muster up some confidence to say, “Forget the clothes.”

“What?” Spencer asks. You can only focus on the veins in his forearms, the bob of his Adam’s apple. 

“I said forget the clothes. Come here,” you repeat, and Spencer’s eyes widen. He approaches you, almost nervous, as if you haven’t been dating for a year. Awkwardly, he stands by the bed, and you pull him down towards you with the towel he’s left slung around his shoulders. He catches himself, hands planted next to either side of your head. His hair, still damp, falls into his face. He looks so handsome like this. You lean up to kiss him.

Spencer makes a surprised little noise, before his hand moves to cup your face as he kisses you. He kneels on the mattress for support so his other hand can trace your body, feeling you up as you are with him, hands reaching for his biceps, his lithe body, his toned stomach. 

You feel breathless as you whisper, “I missed you, Spencer.”

“I missed you too,” Spencer exhales, eyes gentle and warm as he looks down at you. 

“Kiss me some more,” you coax. 

Spencer grins. “Gladly.”

Spencer kisses you, desperation in every move he makes. You run your hand through his hair. Messy as it air-dries, but that’s just another thing you like about him. You feel him slide his hand up your sleep shirt – well, it’s his shirt, but he no longer says anything about you stealing his clothes – and it sends a shudder down your spine. His hand is calloused, rough, but touches you with a sweet gentleness that makes you swoon. His hand reaches your breast, cups it, squeezes like he needs to get his fill. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, as you run your hand down his body, reaching where his towel is tucked in so that it stays up. Your hand nudges his hardening cock, and you smile. “Someone’s already hot and bothered, huh?”

Spencer shakes his head, chuckling. “As if you didn’t start this.”

“Oh, come on, baby,” you coo. “I think it’s cute. You want me so bad.”

“I do,” He answers rather earnestly. “I’ve been gone for the better part of this week. Of course I want you.”

“And I’ll give it to you,” you answer, undoing the towel and letting it fall around Spencer’s knees. Your hand wraps around Spencer, and he moans at the contact, at the pressure. 

“Shit,” Spencer groans, head falling forward as he loses himself in the pleasure of your hand. His brows are furrowed slightly but he’s leaking, and you just want him inside you already. You kiss his cheek, and he turns his head to meet your lips instead. His lips are soft, a little chapped, but Spencer’s never been diligent with the lip balm you gave him. You’ll kiss him regardless, chapped lips and all. 

“I want you, Spencer,” you sigh. “Please.”

“I know,” Spencer says, and he reaches for your lower half. “How- How did I not realise you weren’t wearing shorts?”

You smirk, only hiding your fluster when you take off your shirt and toss it onto the floor. “Oh, Mr. Respectful Boyfriend over here doesn’t realise his girlfriend is half-naked. Shocker.”

“Hey, I am respectful!” Spencer retaliates, while trying very hard not to ogle your tits, which you promptly counter by squeezing his cock. He squeaks. You laugh, as he apologises and moves to dip his thumbs in the waistband of your panties. He looks at you. 

“Take them off already, Spencer,” you say. He does, pulling your underwear off with a reverence he’s always given you when you’re in bed together. You lift your hips so he can slide them off. You expect Spencer to come back up, but he instead slides in between your spread legs. 

His hand is gentle on your thigh, and his thumb rubs at the crease between your thigh and your cunt. You feel his breath on you, his face lowering towards your heat but his eyes solely meeting yours. “Let me take care of you.”

“Yeah?” you say, feeling breathless already. “I thought- I thought I was supposed to make you feel good, since you missed me.”

“You do make me feel good. Even like this.” Spencer says, matter-of-factly. “Especially like this.”

“It’s hot that you like getting me off,” you say. You can’t help the smile that forms on your face, as Spencer buries his face between your legs. 

You feel the little bit of stubble on Spencer’s chin rubbing at your thighs, and his insistent tongue that slowly coaxes you open. It’s wet and slick and you feel so good, as his tongue circles your clit. The way he’s eating you out is like a man starved, as he holds your legs apart, drinking from you like he’s running out of water. The pleasure makes your head spin, makes your toes curl, as adrenaline drums in your veins and makes the tips of your fingers (that are buried in Spencer’s hair) tingle. You hold him down against you, as if you want him impossibly closer, as if the pleasure he’s giving you will increase tenfold if you do. You feel him moan against you, the vibrations only making you feel better. 

“Spencer,” you exhale shakily, “You need to fuck me, right now.”

He pulls away slightly, and you expect the loss of warmth all at once, but Spencer’s slipped the tips of two fingers into you, and he fills you up just like that alongside his tongue. He spreads them to scissor you open, tongue slid in between them perfectly. You cry out as he fucks you with his stupidly long fingers, feeling crazy good when he hits the spots deep inside you that you can only reach on a good day. 

You writhe on the bed, the bed you share, and Spencer finally comes up for air. “That’s totally what you meant, right?”

You glare at Spencer. “I’m going to kill you.”

“You won’t,” Spencer says with a smirk. He pulls his fingers out of you, sits back up so he’s kneeling between your legs. You watch Spencer wrap his fingers around himself, sticky with your slick, as he works himself up. Playfully, he mocks, “You want me so bad.”

You gasp as he presses the tip of his cock to your hole, wet and sticky and leaking from the number Spencer’s already done on you. He’s sweet as he presses inside, doesn’t tease but instead gives you exactly what you want.

Spencer feels like he was made for you, fitting inside you perfectly. You sigh as he presses into you, all the way to the hilt. When you look up at him, it’s like he can barely keep it together. His face is scrunched up and a little flushed, and you just want to kiss him. 

You reach up to pull him closer by the nape of his neck. He can clearly tell what you plan to do, so he says, “I taste like you.”

You smile up lazily at him. “I know. I think that’s really fucking hot.”

He leans in to kiss you, full of heat, but he’s still extremely sweet about it. His chin is sticky, but you couldn’t care less. He holds you so softly, but wherever his hands touch your skin – your stomach, your thighs, your face – it feels so hot, burning with his desire.

You clench around him on purpose when he breaks away from kissing you, and he curses under his breath. “Jesus Christ. The things you do to me.”

“Yeah?” You grin. “Show me.”

Spencer pulls out before rocking his hips, pushing himself into you, and you moan. His rhythm has gotten better since you and Spencer started sleeping together, better at keeping his pace even and steady to get you to your orgasm. He used to be a bumbling (but adorable) mess, close to virginal and would blow his load just after a few minutes. You like to think you helped him improve, but you definitely don’t want to see him use these skills with anyone else. 

He holds your leg up, allowing him to fuck you even deeper. You feel every inch of Spencer inside of you, as he slides in and out, repeat. He’s learned well, just how to fuck you. Being a genius definitely has its perks, with him learning so quickly, knowing exactly what makes you tick.

His other hand reaches down to toy with your clit, and you shudder. “Spencer… Feels so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” Spencer responds, sounding delighted to hear your glowing review. “Are you gonna…”

“I’m close,” you sigh. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“Fuck,” Spencer curses, seemingly out of nowhere, but you know by now that it turns him on like crazy. His need for praise always had you curious, and using it in bed just makes you feel all the more powerful. He clears his throat, continuing, “You’re- So tight, so warm. You feel really good.”

Spencer’s been trying to… talk more, during sex, knowing how much you like it. He’s remembered the way you talk to him when you’re sleeping together, and he’s done well parroting it back to you. It’s hot, how eager he is to please. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” you say, breathless. “Make me cum, Spencer.”

He leans in to press his lips to yours again, driving his hips into you at a punishing pace, and you’re gushing as he flicks at your clit in all the right ways. You moan as your orgasm washes over you, electrifies you, till every bone in your body feels like jelly. He lets out a whimper as his hips stutter, emptying inside of you. His warmth floods into you, and you feel a strange sense of pride with it. 

“Ugh, you’re so hot,” you groan, while Spencer presses one last kiss to your cheek before he slumps down on top of you. “And heavy.”

“I love you,” Spencer says, awfully serious. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me, Spencer?” You chuckle. Spencer lifts his head to look at you. You stroke his cheek gently. 

“For letting me make you feel good, I suppose,” Spencer says. “Orgasms are often good for stress relief.”

“For me or for you?” You grin. 

“Both of us?” Spencer suggests. You nod in agreement. 

You sit in the comfortable silence between you and Spencer as you cuddle with him on top of you, only feeling sticky once the post-orgasm high has worn off. “So, wanna shower together?”

“Oh my God,” Spencer squeaks, sounding positively scandalised.

You laugh. “Oh, please. As if you didn’t cum inside of me just minutes ago.”

Spencer makes a comically distressed noise. “Well, when you put it like that!”

He gets up off of you, like he’s afraid of offending you, but you just take his hand as you stand up. You see the way his eyes rake over your naked body. It feels good. You kiss the top of his hand and smile at him. “Nothing to be scared of, Spencer. Come on.”

[missmitchieg]

Me: *casually points out that Penelope's type is "around 6 feet tall and brown eyed"*

Mom: I don't like that you said that because that means Hotch and Spencer are both her type and I like to see them as her dad and brother.

Me: Not my fault she's literally surrounded by people that are coincidentally her type. Take it up with the casting directors.

Mom: *laughs*

Me: That also means Tara and Emily are technically her type. Emily's a little shorter than 6 feet, but she's close.

Mom: Oh, my god.

Me, imitating Penelope: *twirling my hair* Oh, Tara. You're so marvelous. Oh, Emily. I love you, Wonder Woman. You're the best, Pussycat.

Mom: Woah, she calls her Pussycat?!

Me: *nods and puts my hand on my heart* Oh, Spencer loves me and I love him. He's smart, and handsome, and his eyes are brown with gold on the outside.

Mom: Oh, my god.

Me: Oh, Bossman, honey, you're so handsome and you have great hair and a necktie-

Mom: Oh, my god!

Me: Oh, be still, my bespeckled heart! Honey, you're the exception!

Mom: Penelope, he's your boss! Stop calling him honey!

Me: Yes, that's what Hotch said. Anyway- Oh, Matt! Your biceps!

Mom: *screaming*

Me:

[planetdream]

WAITING, WATCHING !

CHARACTERS ! stalker!han jisung, reader

GENRE ! thriller. smut. minors dni WORDS ! nearly 2k

SYNOPSIS ! jisung is obsessed with you. you’re his angel. all his. only his.

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! stalking. obsessive behavior. voyeurism/window peeking. breaking and entering. picture taking. panty sniffing + panty thievery. fem. masturbation.

💌 i’m on season 7 of my criminal minds binge. needed this out of my head; not sure i like it, but i wanted to share it.

For the first time in months, you have the house to yourself. Jisung knows that for sure. In fact, this morning at 5:32 AM, he spotted your roommate exiting the front door of your home. A backpack slung around her shoulders and a large suitcase parked beside her as she locked the front door. Her ride, a black SUV, pulls up and the driver hops out to place her bags in the trunk. By 5:35 AM, your roommate has driven off to her destination, and Jisung continues his surveillance of your home. 

What is meant to be his living room lies a single chair displayed in front of the large window that faces the front of your home. On the occasion of movement, J might bring his binoculars to his eyes and gulp, aching to see more of you. He sits there for hours at a time, hyperfocusing, waiting for signs of you. 

Jisung has been watching you long enough to know your daily routine. He’s watched you from directly outside of your bedroom window. He knows the time you wake up; that it takes you approximately fifteen minutes to fully awaken from your precious slumber. He knows that after you awaken, you move directly to the bathroom for a good five to seven minutes or an hour depending on the day. And once you exit, you make your way to the kitchen—but your breakfast choices vary on the day. Sometimes you treat yourself with a big, balanced breakfast. Other days, especially if you’re in a rush due to sleeping in late, you have fruit, cereal, or you skip the meal altogether. 

By 6:23 AM this morning, Jisung makes his way over to your home. A short stroll, as he’s not worried about being seen. Jisung follows his normal path to the left of your home, making his way to the far back to peer into your bedroom window. You’re stirring in your sleep. Probably plagued by a vivid dream, Jisung thinks. The hour flies by, and he remains unfazed, eyes fixed on your sleeping form. 

Jisung remains in his same position for the next two hours; his watch reads fifteen til nine. You’re sleeping in today, unwilling to release yourself from the clutches of your bed. A brief moment goes by where you lift your head to check your phone; tossing it aside to snuggle into your comforter. For a second, Jisung imagines that you see him staring at you through your window. He feels as though he knows you enough to gauge your reaction—craves to watch your eyes widen in terror, mouth agape, all color drained from your face the moment you notice him. Then you would run. That’s no use, though, Jisung knows the layout of your home as if it were his. There aren’t many places you can hide. 

You wake up slowly. Unable to fully shake the sleep from your eyes, you stare up towards the ceiling. Another day you’ve woken up feeling sick, uneasy even. It’s a struggle to get out of bed, the room is hot, and despite being tangled into your comforter, you feel sticky. Jisung watches as you slowly peel yourself from your bed, walking out of the door. 

You’re going into your bathroom, Jisung knows that. Judging by the expression on your face, he assumes you’re going to take a moderately long shower. You’ll probably be spending most of the time thinking, Jisung assumes. And from the shower, you return to your room to get dressed. Initially, Jisung would leave whenever you’re naked—he wanted to give you privacy. Yet things change, progressing over time, and Jisung has been interested in every single aspect of you for a long time.

He watches as you slip the towel off, walking around your room; from your closet to your dresser and back, trying to find a suitable outfit for the day. You pick out an outfit, aligning the shirt up against the pair of pants you’ve picked. Jisung shakes his head. Soon after, as do you. He knows you. Judging by your progress this morning, it’s likely you’ll pick an all black ensemble. He’s right, of course, after an additional eight minutes you choose a black t-shirt and leggings.

You check the time on your phone. Late as usual, Jisung thinks, he can’t help but laugh at how common it is for you to be running late. Even when things are within your control, somehow even when you’re on time, you’re late. Jisung watches how you nearly trip over yourself in effort to collect all your things and rush out of the door. 

You return home later than usual, around 5:34 PM. Jisung has long since returned to his home, following his off-hour routine in preparation of your return. While his day has been mediocre at best, stressful must be the word that describes your day. You’re holding your bag in your hand, unusual as it’s typically strung over your shoulder. You seem tense, shoulders slightly raised, fidgeting with your keys for a few seconds too long. 

Jisung sets his coffee mug down beside him. He stretches, throwing his sweatshirt over his head. Without another thought, Jisung is heading to his front door, one foot in front of the other. He stops in his tracks, making sure to grab something important. Like this morning, Jisung is back with a sly stroll to your home. He’s got tunnel vision, making no effort to see if any neighbors are around; Jisung finds that, if you don’t notice them, often, they don’t notice you. He slips into your backyard undetected. 

You’re exactly where Jisung figured you would be. In your room, displayed across your bed as if only for him. Jisung exhales, a weight lifts off his shoulders when he sees you. You’re laying on your back, almost swallowed into the mess of sheets you didn’t smooth out this morning. Your shirt is thrown across the room, and the contents of the bag you were holding are spilling out on the floor. Not to mention, the creme dela creme, your pants are bunched around your ankles—you gave up at the last moment, fiending to scratch that itch. 

Jisung licks his lips. What a beauty on display for his special viewing. He can’t see too much, only the side of you, but it’s just enough for him. Jisung watches as your breasts move with every movement you make, it’s only slightly, but he notices it. He believes he can see the seconds in which your nipples grow harder, only imagining how they would feel on his tongue.

You work between your legs, head thrown back in ecstasy, fingers guided in fast circles over your clit. Oh, how much easier this would be if you had a toy to play with. Jisung thinks something similar: it would be so much easier if he were in the room with you. To touch you, kiss you. To hold you through the night and promise you that everything is going to be alright as long as he’s by your side. But it’s all too early for that. You’re not ready yet. 

Click! Jisung captures the moment. Picture after picture, varying in stages of ecstasy. With each picture, you get closer and closer to your orgasm. Your free hand glides upward to tug at your nipple, fingers slipping into your cunt, palm of your hand grinding against your clit. It takes a moment, but the build up is all too electrifying. Your orgasm hits you in waves, rippling across your body with heat, body shaking, fingers refusing removal from your clit. You cum with a loud moan, and Jisung wishes he could hear it. Click!

Jisung’s breathing is just as heavy as yours. He’s squeezing at the bulge in his pants, though it doesn’t stop him from leaking into them. He’s caught in a fantasy—you’re riding him from behind, eyes trained on your ass. You’re moaning his name, cunt slurping, sucking in his cock. You’re doing all the work, Jisung is just taking everything in. How smooth and soft your skin is, how you react to the sharp sting of his palm coming down against your skin. When Jisung re-enters reality, he finds that you’ve fallen asleep. He waits a few minutes to make sure, watching how your breathing evens out. Now is his time to act.

It’s 6:35 now. Jisung walks around the house, scouting until he reaches your roommates window. He pops it open with no trouble, lifting himself up into the room. He barely takes a second look at things in the room, your roommate is of no concern to him. Jisung takes slow, careful steps. This isn’t the first time he’s been inside of your home; it is, however, the first time you’ve both been under the same roof. 

He steps out of your roommates room and carefully steps across the hardwood floors towards your door. He opens the door slowly, stepping in, one foot after the other. He’s practiced this, over and over, while you and your roommate are at work or elsewhere. How he’d sneak into your room while you’re sleeping to watch over you. 

You are absolutely perfect. Your chest rises slowly as you inhale, exhaling just as calmly. You kicked off your pants and underwear; and Jisung steps up to receive his trophy, picking your panties off of the floor. Red cotton panties. Without hesitation, he brings the panties to his nose, inhaling deeply. His eyes roll back into his head, he’s feeling lightweight; unstoppable. There’s something in your scent that drives him mad. He snatches the item away, trying to stay level headed. 

Jisung turns towards you. He wants to touch you, he craves it—but it can’t be like this. He tucks the panties into his pocket and takes out his camera. He captures pictures of your delicate body, so unaware of his presence. He wonders, would you wake if he touched you? He can’t. He won’t. Jisung chooses only to admire. Pointing the camera to your face, he snaps another picture. You rest so angelically, you must’ve really needed it, he thinks. 

“Angel.” He whispers to himself. His voice is brittle, he hasn’t spoken in days. 

He takes his final few pictures. Jisung hovers his hand just a few centimeters above your face, as if to gently caress you. He makes his way out of the door, looking back towards you before he closes the door behind him. “See you when you wake, angel.” 

Jisung makes his way back into the darkness he calls his home shortly after. Taking no rest, he plops down into his chair, reaching down to seat his laptop on his lap. His hands move fast, with no hesitation, hooking his camera up to his laptop for a better look at the images he’s captured. He works robotically. Reanalyzing each picture he’s taken tonight. He still remembers your scent: cocoa butter and the stained cum left between your legs. 

His hands dip into his pocket, bringing the red fabric to his nose. He inhales your scent until he’s lightheaded, staring at all of your pictures until they’re burned into his retinas. Jisung is breathless. He thinks he’s going to lose his mind. He can’t tolerate not being close to you. He has to have you, he needs to hold you. 

He gathers all of today's photos and places them into a folder titled Skin. At that moment, he made up his mind. He can’t go on like this, not being able to have you in his possession. He’s taken his time up until now, moving slowly, progressing with his plan. Jisung desires to have you for safekeeping. His lover. His property. His angel. Only his. 

It’s time to move onto the next phase of his plan. Luckily for Jisung, the lights in your house just turned on. 

© PLANETDREAM 2024