#criminal minds sickfic

[somber-sapphic]

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.  

[criminal-mids]

#23 - The Magician

Prompt: Under a Spell

Sickie: Prentiss

Caretaker: Reid

Word Count: 2,373

(A/N: Disclaimer: I have no knowledge of planes, farming, or magic.)

The previous day’s incursion had been successful, but not everyone had come out unscathed. Emily's wrist and fingers ache, numb from the painkillers, but somehow stinging all the same. The unsub, Roger Morrow’s, chosen weapons were chains. The monster of a man grew up in a travelling circus, one of those outdated freak shows, and he worked the long metal links like extensions of his body, and he’d pulled them tight around her. If she hadn't thrown her arms out, the metal would’ve found a place around her neck. Thankfully she was only the diversion, the soft entry. Hotch, Morgan and the local policemen had quickly subdued Morrow. He may have been huge, but with so many, she and the victims were safe again.

Now all that’s left is the huge bruise, beginning to bloom purple across her forearm. She tugs her sleeve down groaning, but it won’t go completely over the thick brace. Not a break, just a sprain. A miracle, the paramedic had told her. She had to agree as she watched forensics lift the heavy accoutrements of torture into what had to be the biggest evidence bad she’d ever seen in her few years at the B.A.U. But sprains take longer to heal than breaks.

She sighs. With her shooting hand out of commission, she was assigned to stay at the station and work the geographical profile with Reid. It isn’t that she dislikes him, the opposite actually. His sense of humour may be what some consider odd, but after doing this job long enough one’s humour gets warped enough to where some of his jokes are actually rather funny. 

But he’s a genius. Geographical profiles are his thing. And sitting here, watching him flip between case files, sketching red and blue lines on the provided map, muttering so quickly to himself that Emily can barely catch a word, she feels useless. 

What is she doing here? She isn’t helping? Couldn’t she at least be doing something out in the field? Staking out the crime scene in case the unsub returns?

But, she laments, that wouldn’t be much help either. With her hand, she could hardly arrest him. Hotch would never let her out into the field alone with an impairment like this, temporary as it may be.

“ -to Emily”

“Huh?” She looks up, startled.

“I said: Earth to Emily.” Reid waves a sweater-pawed hand gently in front of her face, but she’s still too distracted to smile.

“Oh, uh, yes.”

“You spaced out. And you keep looking at your arm. Is it hurting? You mentioned you took medication right before we left and it’s been almost nine hours. I can grab your medication from your bag if you need it.” Spencer starts to reach across the desk to where Emily’s small cross body sits, but she puts her uninjured hand out to stop him.

“Ah, sorry. I’m fine. Let’s just finish this.”

She shakes her head as she says “Let’s.” 

‘Why’d I say that? It isn’t like I’m doing much or anything.’

Spencer cocks his head, eyes like a curious animal. He looks a little hurt. “Emily, what’s- did I do something to you that I’m unaware of? I can be quiet if you want. But according to several scientific studies and my personal observations, talking things over helps people to arrive at conclusions faster.”

“What?” Now Emily is confused. “Of course, you can talk. I don’t mind at all. Why would I?”

“Oh. You were staring at me, kind of glaring actually.” He looks back down at the map in front of him, embarrassed at the thought that he’s made something out of nothing. He knows he should be used to the glares by now. He knows he’s different. Negative reactions are only natural.

But Emily understands now. “No, I wasn’t mad, not at you anyway. I-” She hesitates. 

‘Should I really be talking about this? We have a case to solve. It’s no big deal . . . but I don’t want Spencer to think I’m mad at him.’ Is how she justifies it, even though she doesn’t need to justify it at all.

“I- I just feel . . . useless. I’m not doing anything. And I heard you tell Morgan that you focus better alone, anyway.”

Spencer doesn’t say anything, but his expression speaks volumes. His brows pull together in confusion, head tilted again as if even with B.A.s in Psychology and Sociology, he can’t comprehend how she could feel that way. The looks make Emily feel warm, and forgiven for a non-existent wrong.

“I mean, I know I’m not useless, but that's my point. I feel like I’m being wasted, by not being in the field. I know why Hotch did it, of course, but I can't help feeling like I should be doing more. I know I could be. I owe it to the Taylors who are probably sitting at home right now, feeling just like me, only they can’t do anything and I can. I signed up for this and it’s frustrating to not be able to do it.”

Reid’s face shifts into understanding. He nods thoughtfully, and says, after a moment, “You’re not useless. I only told Morgan that so he’d stop pacing. It’s like he can never stop moving, not completely anyway, like a giant atom, kind of funny. And most of the time, I function better with some background stimuli, uh, but what I mean is you are doing something. In fact I was just about to ask you what you thought about the unsub being an agricultural pilot.”

“Like a crop duster?”

“Yeah. All the dump sites are fields, which does make sense since there’s nothing much else around, but the sites are so far apart almost any other vehicle would be impractical, so far apart, and with so little vehicle traffic he’s bound to be noticed. Forensics found no tyre tracks at any of the scenes. Think about it, a crop duster could land and take off without too much suspicion.”

“But aren’t most one-seaters?” Emily asks, having to grit her teeth by the end of the sentence. 

‘I think Spencer was right about the medication wearing off.’

“Yes, but not all of them. But I don’t think our unsub is using the seats anyway. He wouldn’t have to. Though the term “crop duster” would suggest, well, dust, many fertilisers today are liquids. Planes designed for aerial fertiliser application have hoppers with a capacity of up to 800 gallons to 4,000 pounds. That’s more than enough for a body, several in fact if the hopper is empty. He simply loads his victims into it, flies to the dump site, lands dumps the body and takes off again.”

“Reid, you are a genius. I’ll have Garcia check registrations and licences in the area, and hangers too.” In her excitement, she forgets her pain, until she fumbles for her phone.

“I’ll do it.” Reid offers, pulling out his own mobile.

“Yeah.” Emily tries to remember his earlier encouragement, but it doesn’t help much. So she just watches Reid instead.

“ . . . If he’s been transporting bodies, he won’t have been able to carry a full load of fertiliser, so look for agricultural pilots who’ve been missing quotas. There will most likely be a history of complaints for other things as well. . . . Yeah, thanks, Garcia.”

—

The team is assembled, giving the refined profile and setting up the bust . . . while Emily sits in the corner.

She watches them gear up to leave when suddenly Reid pulls Hotch aside.

“Hey, um, Hotch. You have more than enough men, and I don’t think I’d be of too much help for this, could I stay behind and get a head start on paperwork? I’ll be right by the phone if you need me, of course, but, you know. Trying to fix my sleep schedule a little. Mom always nags me about the coffee.” His laugh is a little forced.

Hotch glances over at Emily, pressing her eyes closed in discomfort. He’s a prosecutor turned profiler, Reid’s lies are transparent, but it's true. They don’t exactly need him.

“Alright. Set a good example for Morgan, will you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Reid watches rhythm go then gets to work.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. He does want a jump start on paperwork, but first: Emily.

“Does anyone have a deck of cards?”

—

It’s easy to procure what he needs, a standard deck, a sharpie and sticky notes. It’s not much, but he can work a few simple tricks. Last he grabs crips from the vending machine, a paper cut of water, and the bottle of pills from Emily’s bag.

Making his voice as soft as possible he rouses her, “Hey, Emily.”

She isn’t asleep (how could she be with her arm stinging?), but she’s pretty dazed, so she wakes with surprise.

“Oh, Spencer. Hey.”

“I brought you your pills.” He gestures to the extra chair he dragged over.

She sits up at the thought of relief and smiles when she sees what sits on the chair. Her stomach grumbles.

“Here, so you don’t have to take them on an empty stomach.” He hands her the packet of jalapeño crisps.

“Mmm, my favourite. You’re an angel, Spencer.”

He blushes, “Hardly. I’m just observant.”

Emily gives an exhausted eyebrow wiggle. “I’ve noticed.”

They laugh. It’s way too funny for some reason. Maybe it’s the shoddy flickering fluorescent lights of this tiny police station in the middle of East Bumble-fuck that must have been passed over for every budget increase in the last decade. Or maybe it’s the night air coming in through the cracked windows. (The aircon broke months ago, they were told). Or maybe they’re both just loopy from lack of sleep.

When they stop laughing, Emily starts in on her snack or tries to. 

“Argh, stupid wrist.”

“Ah, sorry, Allow me, ma’am,” Spencer says with a sort of half bow because he’s sitting, all dramatically debonair. 

Emily lets him, mostly because she’s tired and hungry and in pain, but also because his charm isn’t false at all. He might not always be put together, but there’s something adorably nerdy about him impossible to ignore.

“Why thank you, sir.”

“Of course.” He bows again, handing it back.

They fall once again into laughter, better this time because Emily is starving and her mouth waters at the smell of the crisps.

-

Emily eats quickly. Securing the packet between her lap and her brace and stuffing crisps in her mouth faster than she would have thought possible with her non-dominant hand.

She swallows the pill easily. Now all she has to do is wait for it to kick in. She lays her head back against the cool wall, closing her eyes. 

‘Ugh, now I’m just in pain and can’t see.’ Sighing, she reopens them. When she does, Spencer is closer than before.

“Wanna see a magic trick?” He offers.

She nods.

“But first, I need this.” 

With a flourish, he unties Emily’s silk scarf from her neck.

Her skin tingles with the sudden absence, feeling the breeze from the open window (or maybe the feeling is just from where his hand had brushed her collar).

The vanishing trick is simple, but no less magical. She giggles. 

‘Oh, that must be the pills kicking in. I haven’t had coffee in a while, they must be making me drowsy.’

For his next trick, he shuffles the deck and fans ten cards face down. “Pick a card, any card!”

She obliges, choosing the one right in the middle. Wondering if she’s playing right into the trick but not caring all that much.

Even though she knew what was coming, she’s no less surprised when the exact card she picked and hadn’t shown him appeared in Spencer’s hand.

—

Several tricks later, Emily is about ready to pass out. 

Spencer glances at the clock. He hadn’t meant to lie to Hotch. He did intend on starting his paperwork, but more time had passed than he realised.

He smiles at Emily’s near-sleeping form. He hates to wake her but . . .

“Hey, Em, I’ve got to at least do a little paperwork and you shouldn’t sleep here, you’ll hurt your neck.”

Emily mumbles something that sounds like “Let me be useless in peace.”

“No, come one. I can’t carry you.”

“Fine.”

Without opening her eyes, she stands, trusting Spencer to guide her. They walk to the bench in the miserable precinct’s waiting area. She’s out nearly as soon as she lays down, barely feeling Spencer place his cardigan under her head.

“‘Night, Emily.”

But he waits until he’s sure she’s comfortable before putting away the cards and sitting down at the small table with his files.

—

Reid is just finishing the write-up of his geographical profile.

“Oh, you’re back. How did it go?” He asks Morgan. 

“We got him without too much resistance.”

“Good.”

“Where’s Emily?”

“Sleeping.” 

Morgan nods, staring in Emily’s direction, but Reid stops him, “Don’t wake her, please.”

Morgan raises an eyebrow but decides not to question it. “We leave as soon as we’re packed.” He informs Reid.

“Yeah.”

-

“Reid, get over here.”

Reid hurries over to Morgan.

“What do you need?”

“Can you wake the bear?” Morgan asks, tone mostly teasing but also slightly wary.

Reid frowns. “She’s not going to attack you, you know. She’s in no condition.”

Morgan shrugs, already walking off. “I gotta help Rossi.”

Reid shakes his head. He walks off as well. But only to gather Emily’s bag.

He kneels to Emily’s level, tucking a stray strand of hair back into place. The motion sends Emily’s eyes fluttering open. She shifts quickly but clumsily up, trying to grab his hand.

 “Hey, easy. It’s just me.” He reassures her, placing her scarf back around her neck.

She rubs it between her fingers, blinking as she calms down, “Oh, Spencer.”

“We’re about to leave. Hotch and JJ are finishing things here and Morgan and Rossi are picking up our stuff. I got your bag.”

“Thanks. I am so ready to be home.”

“Me too.”

“Hey, you two, come on,” Morgan calls.

“Coming,” Spencer shouts back, then turns to Emily, helping her up and hooking an arm around her waist. “Come on, let’s go home.”

(A/N: This turned out way less platonic than I intended, but hey, why not? Also, what is Emily and Spencer’s ship name? I’ve searched but can’t find it. So far I’ve thought of Remily, or Prencer. Lol Also, for anyone wondering, the switches from surname to given name were intentional.)

---

Based on some of the meanings of the Magician tarot card

Manifesting: The ability to make dreams come true 

Healing: The ability to fix or improve something that's broken or not going well 

Tapping into potential: Using one's talents, capabilities, and resources to succeed, especially when there's a need to transform something 

[softestqueeen]

✧*̥˚ spencer reid fic recs part 3*̥˚✧

a/n: *heavy sigh* another month, another fic rec list! yes, i am insane. also this picture of mgg is literally driving me into oblivion! i need him

✨ favourites

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I my criminal minds masterlist

✧*̥˚ smut *̥˚✧

bad, bad news by @aliteralsemicolon

it will come back by @parfaitblogs

diphenhydramine by @pathologicalreid

with your hands tied by -//-

gypsophilia; honey by @ophelia-is-complex

accidents by @tinystarbites ✨

like the back of my hand by @spencerreidenjoyer

✧*̥˚ fluff *̥˚✧

sweet creature by @cowboy1ikereid

rite of passage by @foxy-eva

more than a woman by @anniebeemine

eyes in the sun by @planetpedri

market day by @cookiescribble

radiant by @reidmoony-toast

longing for you by @proseandpretrichor

all of the books besides your bed by @tlou-reid

sleep by @mindfullycriminal

✧*̥˚ angst/hurt/comfort *̥˚✧

of anything by @reidscanehand

always, i'll wait by @pathologicalreid

deprivation by @reiding-writing ✨

lucky by @reidmarieprentiss ✨

speciality by @imagining-in-the-margins

please let me be enough by @mindfullycriminal

✧*̥˚ honorable mentions *̥˚✧

him (one-shot series) by @godsfavdarling series masterlist I her masterlist

@mindfullycriminal I her masterlist

if you want your work removed, dm me!

[patchs-curiosity-corner]

𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝑴𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒀𝒐𝒖 | 𝑺.𝑹. 

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝟓𝐭𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕 - 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒉

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: A new member is added to the BAU soon after Reid’s kidnapping. She seems determined not to overlook him.

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: angst, hurt/comfort, slight arguing, themes of drug addiction and self harm, referenced overdose, likely inaccurate depiction of drug addiction/withdrawal, Spencer and Reader being insecure.

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 2.5k

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: Fair warning this could be horrible. It’s part one of hopefully six total oneshots stemming from the concept of ‘5 times you help Spencer Reid heal, and one time he helps you.’ So, heart attack levels of cheese. Largely inspired by my righteous fury when no one helped Reid with his addiction. I will do a tag list for anyone interested in being alerted when part 2 comes out! Not proofread.

𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

You and Spencer Reid don’t get along.

Maybe that’s the wrong way to put it; it would be more accurate to say that he doesn’t get along with you. You were brought on a month ago, 36 days 4 hours and 27 minutes had passed since you had first walked into the bullpen and given him one more person to deal with. It didn’t help that you were sweet, gentle and understanding in a way seemed to grate on his already frayed nerves. You’re 22, but only recently, recently enough to have just barely squeaked out the title of “youngest member to join the BAU” that had previously belonged to him. It’s a childish record, he’s a 25 year old man, and it shouldn’t affect him much less upset him, but it does. 

Your presence feels like a personal insult. Your arrival so soon after his kidnapping churns his stomach, makes him wonder if the team is questioning his capabilities as a profiler. Why else would they need to suddenly hire an extra person? Not-so-deep down he knows that logically, it probably had to do with the recent increase in the units budget. Nothing to do with him, but rather Hotch taking advantage of the opportunity to have another pair of boots on the ground during cases. None of that matters though, because Spencer doesn’t feel very logical right now.

He’s found more little ways to justify his distaste for you in the weeks since your arrival. The way you always seem to smile and nod along with his ramblings, despite the fact they’re not directed at you. You must be mocking him, he concludes, secretly patronizing him for his inability to shut up. Or the way you look at him after learning about his recent… ordeal with Tobias Hankel, the gentle sympathy in your eyes he willingly misinterprets as pity. He hates being pitied. He hates being patronized. He hates the analytical way you always seem to look at him, and he almost immediately convinces himself that above all: he hates you.

———

Something’s up with Reid.

You’d noticed it from day one, but it had been easy to disregard as growing pains. After all, with Emily having only joined months before you, you were sure there was going to be a bit of an adjustment period, especially when the sting of losing one of their previous teammates was still so fresh. You’d heard so many good things about Elle from everyone, and you’d be lying if it didn’t make you feel even a little bit insecure as the greenest among them.

It takes about a week for you to realize there’s something more to his behavior than awkward aloofness. The way he wears long sleeves even as the cool air of spring grows warmer, the near-constant twitch in his brow, and especially the way he seems to constantly fidget with those aforementioned sleeves, scratching nervously at his inner elbow. Even just the way his wiry fingers tighten around the strap of his bag, you can’t shake it.

Something is terribly wrong.

You try to remain casual, asking after him when he disappears into the bathroom for a touch too long, or when he takes a sick day that even as the newbie you know is out of character. Innocuous little questions like: “Is Reid alright?” or “Does he seem paler lately?” that gleaned no real answer from any of their teammates. It made you furious. Spencer was a part of their team, part of their family, regardless of his icy attitude towards you. So why wouldn’t any of them help him?

You watch him deteriorate over time, in the 36 days you’d spent on the team you’d been silently festering, mentally begging someone to do something, anything for Reid. Help him! your eyes beg Morgan, Hotch, Gideon, JJ, anyone. He’s going to die like this…

…but no one does, and enough is enough.

———

Spencer can’t eat, he can’t sleep either. Whenever he tries to his mind is filled with the memory of the horrible night he spent with Hankel, his crystal clear eidetic memory forcing him to relive that torture again and again the moment he closes his eyes. He knows there must be dark circles under his eyes, that his cheeks are likely sunken and pale, eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep. He’s certain the others must have noticed, there’s no way they couldn’t. But he tries to convince himself they haven’t, because if they had and no one had checked on him? …He doesn’t want to consider that reality.

The soft rapping of knuckles against his door stirs him out of his sleepless daze. It’s late, late enough that no one in their right mind would be awake right now, much less knocking on his door. In his drained state he heaves himself off the couch, plodding with weighted feet over to the door of his apartment. He doesn’t bother to check the peephole, if he did maybe he wouldn’t have been so startled by who he sees upon pulling open the door.

You.

A travel bag slung over your shoulder and a determined look set on your features. You both just stand there for a moment, until your voice breaks the silence.

“Hi.” It’s just one word, but it tugs at something inside him he can’t quite name.

“Hey.” He croaks back apathetically, or at least he tries to. Before he can say anything else or even question what you’re doing you push past him into his apartment, tossing your bag onto his kitchen island. “What the hell-“ Is all he manages to get out, irritation swelling in his chest as he scowls at your form, looking at him with arms crossed, fingers picking at the frayed edges of your sweater.

And just like that it’s quiet again. It’s his voice that breaks the silence this time, quiet and tired: “What are you doing here?”

“Make sure you don’t die, hopefully.” you murmur, your own voice cracked by anxiety and a frail attempt at humor. “Where are they?” That makes his jaw tighten, you both know what you’re talking about, and it causes long-suppressed frustration to boil up in his chest.

“You have no right to be here. You- you have no right to look through my things.” The words are gritted out through teeth clenched so tight you worry they may crack. It’s painful, watching him fight so hard against the help you’re trying to offer.

“Look, Spencer” you sigh, unable to hide the pained expression of your own face, “Hotch knows. I talked to him about it.” You brace for something, anything. Maybe shouting, you seriously doubted Reid would ever consider laying a hand on you but… drugs did funny things to those you would have thought you knew. “S-so you either let me help you, or I’ll be forced to report your current addiction to Strauss.” Your voice had wavered at the beginning, but the more you spoke the more conviction bled into your voice. Soon all the pent up anxiety and worry for your brilliant coworker was pushing you forward, fueling your words. “I won’t stand by Spencer, because if you keep going like this it’s not a matter of if but when it kills you, and that is the last thing I would ever want because you are too damn good for that.”

Reid glares at you, every ounce of misplaced anger in his system directed at you alone in a gaze far more furious than you or anyone thought him capable of. Then his shoulders slump, and that tired, worn appearance returns. He could deny it, claim you had no proof, but with no energy left in his tired, broken body- He didn’t have it in him to lie. When Spencer finally speaks it’s quiet, and reluctant.

“In the bathroom,” his voice croaks, “Inside the medicine cabinet.”

He would have expected you to immediately go there, to play the role of drill sergeant for his sudden makeshift rehab, but you don’t. Instead your own shoulders sag, and in a number of slow steps you cross the room to where he stands, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle. Spencer goes stiff at first, unable to process the sudden display of affection, why this girl seems to care so much about him when he’d been nothing but distant to her at best. After everything he’s been through though -even with his germaphobia- it’s impossible not to relax into the embrace, his own slender arms wrapping around you in return. It’s nice to be held again, he thinks.

“This is going to be awful.” You mumble against his chest, “A week and a half, that’s all Hotch could give us. Far as anyone’s concerned I had a family emergency and you’re on a mandated sabbatical.” It takes him a minute or so to process her words, stuck in the haze of affection after going to long without.

“…what are you talking about?” Reid asks, his voice is quiet. He can’t understand why you care so much, he just needs you to go away now, before he gets addicted to your presence as well. Before something happened to you and you left; like his Mother, like Elle.

“Getting you clean.” You say hesitantly, finally pulling away from him after what felt like a peaceful eternity. “Under normal circumstances quitting outright is a terrible idea, but-“ you swallow thickly- “you’re a federal agent, so there’s a clock ticking.”

“And your plan is…?” Spencer sighs, running a heavy hand through his hair and down his face. He tries to ignore the feeling that lingers, the ghost of you in his arms.

“Stay with you through the inevitable withdrawals, I hope.” The words are tentative, not as confidant as before while you pick nervously at the sleeve of your sweater. “The first thing I have to do is get rid of all the Dilaudid in this apartment.”

His body goes rigid again, this time with the flash of panic that goes through him at your words. Hands clenching and jaw tightening, the thought of losing the thing he’d come to rely on so desperately makes him terrified. Part of Spencer wants to say ‘no,’ to stop you- beg you not to let what gave him peace drain away… But he just can’t muster the energy, forced to watch in dejected silence as you conduct a thorough search of his apartment for the offending drug -his only comfort and companion in these past two months- and dispose of it, all in a few moments. Gone.

Once you’re finished, you settle yourself on his warm, comfortable couch, letting out a quiet sigh as you wave him closer. “C’mere.”

Reid lets himself be touched for the second time that night, accepting your offer and laying his head on your lap. He’s quickly hit with a hazy feeling as your fingers slide into his hair, playing gently with the chocolate strands and scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Are you angry with me?” You ask softly after a moment, concerned by the silent treatment he was currently giving you. Again he can’t lie to you, even compared to the unwillingness to admit his fear and anger. In an act of petty rebellion he refuses to look at you when he answers.

“…yes.”

“That’s alright.” He hears you reply, as soft and gentle as everything else you had been so far. “You can be angry, Spence.”

“Why are you even here?” He bites back, a storm of emotions behind his eyes as he finally looks up at your face: anger, sadness, confusion, fear. The brilliant ‘boy-genius’ reduced to an absolute mess.Your answer is just as easily spoken and simple as before: 

“Because I care about you.” Those five words ring in his head even as you continue. “Because despite how we started out you are an incredibly genuine person, Spencer, and probably one of the most brilliant minds I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.” Spencer shakes his head, for once lost for words. Why were you here, being so nice to him? Why did you even care in the first place when he had been so cold and hostile to you over the past month. 

“I don’t- you shouldn’t care.” He spits out, turning away from her. The action feels petulant.

“But I do.” You say a hint of amusement in your voice despite the circumstances. “And you can’t stop me from caring.”His face feels hot, and his jaw clenches again as he rolls back over to hide his face in your stomach. Reid mumbles in a voice almost too low to hear: 

“You’re frustrating.” It makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry Reid,” you say through your laughter, “the feeling is definitely mutual.”

———

The next week is just as brutal as you had both been expecting.

Spencer didn’t know what he expected drug withdrawal to be like. He’d read plenty of textbooks sure but they did nothing to prepare him for a firsthand experience. The only way he can think of to describe it is pure, unadulterated misery. His body struggles without consistent doses of Dilaudid to keep him going, it’s evident he had become much more dependent than he realized in a short amount of time. He can’t eat, he feels violently sick. Too hot one moment and freezing the next with his emotions following much the same kind of roller coaster.

You stay through all of it, keeping him comforted during panic attacks and soothing his fevers with a cool washcloth as you try to get him to drink just a little more water, even if it may come back up minutes later. You’re tired, exhausted even, and yet you won’t leave Spencer’s side for more than a second. It’s easy to endure the moments of anger he has, shouting and cruel words flung in your direction are hardly any price at all if it means he might recover faster. He doesn’t understand how you take it, all the snapping, screaming and crying. Reid takes out every anxiety and fear he has on you, and still you remain in the end, ready to let him fall into your arms again and cry like a child.

He feels guilty, ashamed even in this state. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness weighs heavy on his heart, but little by little, things do get better, even if he doesn’t notice at first.

It must be the 8th day of this hell when he realizes that slowly, far too gradually for him to notice: things have returned to something oddly adjacent to normal. Sitting at his kitchen table with a cup of warm honey tea in his hands, watching you hum along to the radio while you prepare breakfast… Spencer almost feels human again. Things weren’t perfect by any means, his hands still trembled, the ghosts left behind by the worst of it all still tugged at his mind, a familiar voice begging him for just one more hit. But the voice is tiny now, easier to ignore. It was strangely peaceful, in fact, the way he could sit at this table and observe the domestic scene of you cooking breakfast in his kitchen. His chest warms pleasantly, and for what feels like the first time in years:

Spencer can finally breathe.

[garciasgirl]

beside him | spencer reid

genre: fluff of course…

content: sick reader, spencer being a sweetheart and cutie patootie, spencer taking care of reader, no use of y/n, spencer and reader are in a relationship, cuddles, the amount of pet names in this will make you sick, just straight up fluff and cuteness, this is really short

content warnings: none!!

a/n: this is super self indulgent, im sick and this is my way of coping!! also im so sorry if this sucks bc i can barely think straight but yeah..

word count: 429

the sunshine comes through your curtains, highlighting your face and waking you. your eyes flutter open and you become painfully aware of the uncomfortable feeling present. your head was pounding, your throat sore, and you couldn’t tell if you were extremely cold or hot. you rolled around, your hair falling in front of your face, and sticking to your forehead. that’s when the door to your bedroom opens.

spencer. you were glad to see his face, especially when you were feeling sick. he came into your room, his eyebrows furrowed with concern “oh my love..” he said coming over next to you, he felt your forehead, gently rubbing your head. “you do feel a bit warm..” he said, a troubled expression flashing in his eyes. you looked up at him, your eyes hazy and skin pale, “ ‘m sorry, I know how much you hate germs.” he shook his head, kneeling down next to your head, gently holding the side of your face, “germs don’t matter when it comes to you, silly.”

“don’t move okay..gonna get you some water.” he mumbles, disappearing for a moment. again, you realize just how miserable you feel. when spencer, your comfort, is gone, all of the calmness disappears and you feel your sickness and irritation seep back into your skin. however, Spencer returns quickly, bringing some water to you. you sit up slowly, his hand rests gently on your lower back, helping you up and keeping you steady. you drink from the glass, cringing at the sting it leaves on your throat. his hand brushes hair off of your forehead, then trails down, massaging the back of your neck.

“mhm..thanks spence..” you mumble, managing to give him a weak smile. his eyes run over you with concern but he gives you a small smile back. He takes the glass of water from your hand, putting it on the bedside table. “lay back down okay?” he says, moving the pillows behind you to a more comfortable position, as you lay back and melt into them. his hand plays with your hair softly, your eyes fluttering shut. his hand leaves your hair, and just when you’re about to open you eyes back up warmth floods your back. Spencer lays next to you on the bed, pulling your back into his chest, his arms wrapping protectively around your waist.

you hum contently, drifting off to sleep, Spencer’s presence keeping you calm and centered. his hands on your waist lulls you into a deep sleep. it was these moments that you treasured most, the gentleness, beside him.

[aaronhotchnersworld]

in sickness and in health

Aaron hotchner x bau wife reader

summary- y/n is sick and Aaron takes care of her

——

It was about 11pm and you guys had just finished up a case and were now back at the BAU, thankfully the case was local.

It had been extremely exhausting and the pounding in your head continues to grow along with the tiredness you feel.

You all had some paperwork to finish, Aaron having the most, as always.

You cringe at the paperwork in front of you, wondering if the words on the paper are even going to make sense considering the pounding in your head.

“y/n, just go home. You’re obviously fatigued, running a fever, and you just don’t look well,” Spencer tells you.

“do I seriously look that bad,” you question.

“you just look sick, that’s all.”

You tell him, once again, that you don’t need to go home and he drops it.

For someone as smart as him, you wish he would get the hint that you don’t want Aaron to find out you feel unwell.

Emily walks over to you with a sympathetic look and hands you a bottle of water which you immediately take while thanking her.

“he’s right y/n. it’s clear you don’t feel well,” she tells you before going back to her desk to do her paperwork.

You sigh and prop yourself up in your chair.

As you look around, everyone is focused on there paperwork, you look up to Aarons office, debating on going up there, but the blinds are closed and you figure he has too much paperwork.

You don’t want him to worry about you.

You open up the first folder and the words all look like a blur and your head begins to spin. You close the folder and lay your head on your desk.

“y/n.” You don’t even have to lift your head to know it belonged to Aaron, your husband. You slowly lift your head, the bright lights hurting.

You see Aaron kneeling down next to you, his hand on your back and a concerned look on his face.

“let’s go home y/n/n,” he says as he puts the back of his hand on your forehead.

“i’m fine,” you tell him.

“you’re burning up honey, let’s go,” he tells you as he helps you up. You realize you two are the only ones here.

“where’s everyone else,” you question, extremely confused.

“I told everyone to go home, take the day off tomorrow and that i’d see them all on monday. You were sleeping,” he says softly.

“I feel asleep,” you question disoriented.

“yes honey you fell asleep,” he tells you as you both walk towards the elavator, his hand resting on your back to support you.

You rest your head on his shoulder as you wait for the elevator. Aaron kisses your head.

You both walk into the elevator as the doors open and exit once you get to the ground floor. He opens the passenger side door for you and then closes it once your in.

He walks over to his side and gets in. He pulls out of the parking lot and begins driving home. It’s about a 15 minute drive home.

You really don’t feel good.

As soon as he pulls into the driveway and parks the car, you both get out and walk to the front door. He unlocks it and you both walk in.

Jessica had taken Jack to a sleepover so he won’t be home until tomorrow.

“let’s get you to bed honey,” he says softly as you make your way to the bedroom.

You immediately sit on the bed while Aaron begins grabbing some clothes for him and you.

He grabs himself a pair of grey sweatpants and a black shirt while he grabs you a pair of your pajama shorts and one of his shirts.

You both change.

The pounding in your head seems to be getting worse and Aaron quickly notices and grabs you some medicine.

You both going into the bathroom connecting to your bedroom and brush your teeth, going straight to bed after.

You hoped you would be able to fall asleep quick since you’re exhausted, but the pounding in your head made it nearly impossible.

Your head is resting on aaron’s chest and he begins rubbing your back, knowing it’ll put you to sleep. “close your eyes, you’ll feel better in the morning honey,” he whispers.

You eventually fall asleep but are woken up at the early hour of 2am, nausea taking over you.

You practically jump out of bed and sprint to the bathroom, barely making it before collapsing onto your knees as you start throwing up in the toilet.

You feel Aaron pull your hair back and rub your back. “it’s okay you’re okay,” he tells you.

“aar-” you try to say are but cut off as you continue to throw up.

“it’s okay I gotcha,” he says in a soft tone.

After you finish throwing up, he grabs a washcloth, wets in with cold water and holds it against the back of your neck while you lean against him.

“i’m sorry Aaron I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you whisper to him.

“honey don’t apologize, I want to take care of you when your sick. I love you,” he says softly, as he grabs a hair tie and pulls your hair up.

“I love you too.”

“do you think you’re ready to go back to bed,” he quietly asks you.

You start to feel the nausea coming back and you immediately shake your head no as you put your head back over the toilet, throwing up again.

Aaron continues to rub your back and reassure you that you’ll be okay.

“aaron,” you whine.

“I know y/n i’m sorry,” he says softly.

You lean back onto his chest as you finish throwing up. He kisses your head and puts the washcloth back onto the back on your neck.

“i’m gonna go get you some water, okay?” he asks you. You just nod.

He comes back not even a minute later with a glass of water. “rinse your mouth out honey.” He lifts the glass up to your lips, allowing you to get the water in your mouth.

Everything hurts.

“let’s get you back to bed honey,” aaron tells you. He picks you up gently and take you over to the bed, lifting the comforter to put you under it.

“i’ll be right back,” he tells you softly before walking out.

He returns moments later, a bucket in his hand along with another glass of water.

He sets the bucket on the ground, next to you, just in case you need to throw up again. He sits next to you and puts his hand on your forehand, disappointed to see how warm it feels.

He walks into the bathroom and comes out with another wet washcloth and sets it on your forehead this time.

“drink some more water sweetie,” he says softly as he lifts the glass of water to your lips. You take a few sips of water.

“Thank you for staying with me Aaron, I love you,” you tell him sleepily.

“I’ll always be here for you y/n. In sickness and in health, remember? I love you. Get some rest, i’ll be here when you wake up,” he tells you as he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

You close your eyes and let sleep consume you, knowing you have the best husband in the world.

[thekitsandthekats]

love in low light

Reid's been acting weird. Or at least Aaron thinks so. Having tracked his behaviour for months, Aaron tries to breakdown Reid's strangeness but it seems impossible. Until one day, it all makes sense. Or, five times Spencer cares for (flirts with) Aaron and Aaron doesn't know what it means.

Hotchreid 5 + 1 Things Oblivious Flirting

[aswallowssong]

Sicktember 2024 #7: Borrowed Hoodie

The idea for this was, literally, "Aaron’s hoodie being passed around like a healing balm." It was @themetaphorgirl's prompt, and I love her for it, because if there's anything I love, it's when the person that's usually the whumpee becomes the caretaker, even in the short form. Honorable mention comment goes to @fragolinaa, who said, and I quote: "Alex calling him Aaron is the equivalent of showing a glock"

Spencer

“I’m tired,” Spencer mumbled against Aaron’s side. It was Friday night, and they were at another one of Derek’s football games. Aaron knew the rules of football against his will, having been Derek’s roommate the year before, but it seemed that no matter how many times he tried to explain them to Spencer, it wasn’t sticking.

That, or Spencer couldn’t get over why a sport about passing and running had to be so violent. He didn’t like it when they tackled one another, which was every play, and he really didn’t like it when Derek got tackled. 

“I know, Bug,” Aaron said gently, pulling Spencer closer to him as his eyes stayed locked on the field. It was getting colder as the season went on, and Spencer was shivering, so some extra snuggles were in order.

“I wanna go home,” Spencer whined, flopping down so his head could lay in Aaron’s lap. 

Aaron ruffled his hair. “I know, Bug,” he echoed. “The game’s almost over. I told Derek we’d try to stay for the whole thing. There’s four minutes left.”

“That could take a million years,” Spencer mumbled, and when Aaron’s hand paused against Spencer’s scalp, he noticed how warm his ‘little brother’ felt. 

His mouth tugged down into a frown, and he looked over at Alex, but she wasn’t watching them. She was buried in her book, her back against James’ side while he watched with rapt attention. James liked to give Derek specific praise after his games – something he said that Ned always did for him – and while it was sweet, it made him oblivious to the world for the two hours they were on the bleachers.

“Bug?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Spencer nestled further into Aaron’s lap, the tip of his thumb between his teeth. “Mm. ‘m cold.”

Aaron sighed. Spencer ran mystery fevers all the time, and they usually found out the cause later in the night, or the next day. Some cold, or flu, or worse, a stomach bug that reared its ugly head and made them all stressed out for a week, and usually got Aaron sick, too, in the process.

He thought for a second before stripping off his hoodie, and then laying it over Spencer like a blanket. Spencer sighed in relief, snuggling into it and balling his fists in the soft, blue fabric.

“That help?” Aaron asked, and Spencer nodded sleepily, closing his eyes as he turned his face into Aaron’s stomach. 

“Uh huh. Thanks, Bubba.” __________

Alex

They’d been fighting about it for five entire minutes.

“Birdy, come on.”

“I’m fine, Aaron. Leave me alone.”

Aaron, not Bubba. I really must have done it this time.

“I won’t,” Aaron said, moving to try to stop her as she marched down the sidewalk. “You’ve been trying to dodge us all day, I barely caught you now, and I had to ask Penelope for your work schedule.”

“How did Penelope get my work schedule?”

Aaron gestured vaguely, moving again so he was in front of his pseudo-twin. “Penelope could find the president’s schedule if she wanted to.”

Alex rolled her eyes, not moving to push back the hair that was blocking some of her face from his view. She always pulled her hair away from her face, she’d said once that it was a sensory nightmare, but she didn’t have a headband or a clip pulling it back, and it wasn’t in a ponytail or a braid like she usually did.

“Are you mad at me? Is this about Spencer? Because if you’re mad at me, you shouldn’t be avoiding everyone, just tell me what I did.”

Alex huffed, pushing past him again. “I’m not mad at you, you’re reading into it.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, but then used his lank to his advantage, stepping in front of her again. He put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her in place, and bent a little to look her in the face.

“Birdy, please, come on. Spencer’s worried, he doesn’t know why you’re avoiding him.” When he said it he knew it was a low blow, but he was starting to feel anxiety like bubbles popping in his chest. “I told him I’d make sure you were at dinner.”

Alex looked up at him after a second, some of her face still blocked by her hair,, and if looks could kill, he would have been six feet under.

“Let go of me, Aaron.”

“Alex–”

“I have homework to do. I’ve got too many things–”

Her words cut off as she shuddered under his hands, goosebumps erupting on her arms as she shivered in weather that was already too warm for him to be wearing his hoodie in the first place.

“Woah,” he said reflexively, “Are you… cold?”

She shook her head quickly and shivered again, before tucking her face away from him, and he didn’t even think as he reached out and gently grabbed her chin, turning her head so he could actually see her face.

When he did, everything clicked into place.

“Holy shit, Alex, you look awful.”

She frowned, and to his horror, her lower lip started trembling. “Stop, Aaron–”

“No way, Bird,” he said, the popping of anxiety in his chest going from slow moving bubbles to sparks like fireworks. “No wonder you’ve been a ghost today, you should be in bed, not running around trying to dodge us.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to say, but it was painfully obvious she wasn’t, and Aaron took a second to breathe before he was rubbing his hands up and down her arms, trying to help somehow. He was good at taking care of Spencer, but Spencer was ten.

Plus, Alex was usually the one taking care of him, and Spencer, so how was he supposed to do anything to help her?

“We should… find James. I’ll text James. He can meet us back at my room, and he’ll know what to do.”

She started to protest, but as she shivered harshly again, all of the fight seemed to go out of her. Her eyes started to fill with tears, and she nodded slowly. 

“Okay.”

He thought for a second before unzipping his hoodie, and he helped her thread her arms through the sleeves before zipping it for her. It hung like a dress down to the middle of her thighs, but she didn’t seem to notice, or felt too awful to care.

After a moment she leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face in the fabric of his shirt. 

“Thanks, Bubba.”

“Of course,” he said automatically. “Of course, Birdy.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.” __________

Haley

“You don’t have to do this, Ari. It’s sweet, but you’re gonna–”

“Hay, James said you probably should be with someone to watch your fever. It’s fine, I don’t care about getting sick. I care about you.”

Haley sat next to him on the bench outside of Roosevelt house, her head laying against his arm as he tried to coax her into following him back to Lincoln house. He’d thought she was acting weird at dinner, and by the time she’d finally admitted to him that she wasn’t feeling all that great, Alex and James had taken Spencer back with them and the others, granting them enough privacy for him to convince her to let him help.

She’d fought going to the nurse harder than he thought she would, but he’d been able to convince her to on the thermometer in his backpack, normally reserved for Spencer. After that he’d called James, and she’d already gone inside and grabbed a tote bag with the things she thought she might need.

When she’d gone in she’d been wearing his hoodie, which he’d given her even after she’d protested that she was going to get germs on it, and he’d fully scoffed. Odds were he was going to get sick anyway. When she’d come out with her bag and was still wearing it, he’d told the bees in his stomach to knock it the fuck off.

“Harper just…” she turned and muffled a cough into her elbow, but he finished the thought for her. “Is the worst?”

She laughed and shook her head, clearing her throat before speaking again.

“She just gets really freaked out about getting sick and missing class, and missing cheer. It’s like, she would rather die.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” Aaron said simply, rubbing Haley’s back. She’d started shivering again, and it was making him anxious. “People get sick all the time. Spencer and I get sick all the time. You’ve got like, a cold virus or something, and it’ll go away.”

Haley turned and raised a weak eyebrow at him. “A cold virus, or something?”

“I don’t want to be a doctor,” he said simply. “I want to be a lawyer.”

“A man with ambition,” she said, teasing him, but he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. She was more miserable than she was letting on. “I like that.”

“And I like you feeling well,” he said, standing up and offering her his hand. “Come on, Haley. It’s alright, I promise.”

She looked up at him, glassy eyed and fever flushed, and sniffled quietly before taking his hand and letting him help her up. He grabbed her bag, even though she protested, and couldn’t help but feel a swell of fondness at the fact that his hoodie dwarfed her, the sleeve pooling around their connected hands while the other completely covered her hand. He nodded towards it, giving her a shy smile.

“When JJ’s cardigans do that to Spencer’s hands, she calls it ‘Sweater Paws,’ like he’s a kitten.”

“Are you calling me a baby?” She said, but she laughed listlessly, so he knew she wasn’t serious.

“It’s cute,” he said, trying and failing to not blush like a moron.

“Well, maybe I should wear your jackets more often. Not just because I’m so cold.”

“You’re hot.”

“Wow. Forward.”

“I mean–!” He blushed darker, fumbling for the right words. “You know what I meant! You have a fever!”

“I know, I shouldn’t be giving you a hard time,” she said, leaning her head against his arm as they walked. “Thanks for letting me stay. I feel silly about it.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I already said it, I don’t care about getting sick. I care about you.” ___________

James

James was raising an eyebrow at him, though it looked misplaced on his pale yet darkly flushed face.

“Your hoodie won’t fit me.”

“Try me,” Aaron said, holding it out to him. “Or do I need to help you put it on?”

James grumbled, taking it from him. “This is silly.”

“You’re the one that tried to hide in a study room to finish homework instead of calling your dad and telling him to pick you up in the first place.”

“I didn’t know Penelope had tagged us.”

“Well,” Aaron said, “Yeah, the ethics on that are sketchy. But how else was Alex supposed to find you when you didn’t show up after classes let out? And then no one could find you for two hours until Penny finally ratted on herself!”

He hadn’t meant to get a little loud, and only noticed when James winced and rubbed at his temples, but James was usually their rock. The fact that he’d been the one to go MIA hadn’t sat right, and he’d been fighting off the anxiety ever since.

“I didn’t mean to worry everyone,” James said quietly. He’d pulled Aaron’s hoodie on, which had stopped the fever chills a little bit, and had fit, which Aaron had known it would. It was just baggy enough in the shoulders to fit James’ broader ones. “I wanted the opposite.”

“Well you got the not-opposite,” Aaron said, way too flustered to think of a good retort. Instead he stared at James longer than was appropriate, and was startled when someone honked their car horn.

“Shit,” he said at the same time that James said, “Stars,” like they were in a southern sitcom.

“Jeff, cut it out!”

Ned was walking up to them, concern etched onto his face, while Jeff, his best friend and bakery partner, was sitting in the driver’s seat of the van, sheepishly waving and mouthing “sorry.”

Aaron liked Ned. Ned was a good dad.

“Mini, why in the world would you have stayed here feeling bad when you know I would’a come to get you right quick had you called? Alex sounded worried out of her mind.”

“That’s just Alex,” James said, but Aaron watched him quickly wilt as he laid eyes on his dad. “It’s not that bad.”

“He’s got a fever over a hundred n’ one,” Aaron said, his accent strengthening the second he heard Ned talk. “He’s full’a crap.”

Ned nodded at Aaron, ruffling his hair before he grabbed James’ backpack off the ground. “Thanks, Bubba. Charlie’s anxious to get him back. Mama’s worried.”

He said it in James’ direction, but didn’t take his eyes off Aaron, and it made him feel warm inside.

James got up to walk with him back to the car, mumbling a thanks to Aaron, but was half way there when he turned around.

“Oh, Aaron, this is your hoodie.” He started moving sluggishly to take it off, but Aaron shook his head. 

“It’s fine. I’m not worried about it.”

“Didn’t your brother pick it for you, though? It’s important.”

Aaron nodded, taking a beat before shrugging. “It is. A, um. A different brother needs it right now.”

He watched as James’ face went from confused to thoughtful, a small and sheepish smile crossing his face before he nodded, turned, and followed Ned to the car.

[1heartfanfics]

I’d like to request one of Derek from criminal minds where Derek is sick with the stomach flu and puking a lot and Garcia takes care of him

I haven't watched criminal minds in a while and I've also never written for garcia so I might not get their voice/vibe quite right.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Garcia was on her way back to her office with a fresh mug of coffee. After she'd passed by the bathrooms she stopped, paused for a moment, then backed up. It almost sounded like someone was...

"hrkllbbgg,"

Throwing up in the bathroom, yep. She walked over to the door and knocked.

"You okay in there?" she called through the door.

"...Not really," a voice answered, raspy from vomiting. That sounded like... no it couldn't be, he's practically invincible. "Derek?"

"That you mama?" Derek asked, sounding relieved.

"You want me to come in?" she asked, not sure if mr. macho man himself would be okay with anyone seeing him like this.

"yes please," he groaned.

Garcia turned the knob, surprised to find the door unlocked, and pushed it open. To her surprise, Derek was slumped in the corner of the bathroom, looking more disheveled than she had ever seen the man. His badge and gun were on the floor, along with his belt and his shoes, and his t-shirt was drenched with sweat.

"Derek Morgan what on earth happened to you?" she gasped, moving to crouch down in front of him. She placed a hand on his forehead, flinching at how warm he was. He definitely had a fever.

"Don't know, just kinda off this morning but it just kept getting worse. Thought maybe I needed to eat something but, well, you see how that turned out," he gestured toward the toilet grimly.

Garcia winced in sympathy, wrinkling her nose as she reached over to flush the toilet. "Do you think you're done for now? We should get you home," she said.

"I don't think putting me in a car is a very good idea right now he groaned, shaking his head.

"Well let's at least get you off of the bathroom floor then. How about you go lay down in your office?" she suggested instead.

"Yeah, okay," Derek agreed, figuring he could at least make it that far. "I'm gonna need a trash can though," he added, grimacing as he felt his stomach churning.

"I'll take care of it," Garcia nodded, "Now come here," she stood, holding her hands out to Derek. He grabbed her hands, letting her help him pull himself up off of the floor. He felt shaky, but Garcia wrapped an arm around his waist to help keep him steady as they made their way out of the bathroom.

As they passed through the BAU main office, a few heads turned to watch them pass. The team had gathered in the conference room and was watching them from up there. No one said anything as Garcia and Morgan made their way up the stairs and into Derek's office.

"There's a case," Derek said as Garcia helped him lay down on the couch in his office.

"Don't worry about that," she said, grabbing a blanket from the corner and draping it over him. She pulled the trashcan from under his desk over to sit in front of the couch.

"I should be in there," he protested.

"For what? So you can go puke on some crime scene photos? I don't think so. You're sitting this one out. The team will be okay without you for one case," she shook her head, grabbing a water bottle from the mini fridge in his office and setting it next to the couch.

Derek sighed, knowing she was right. "Well you should go. They need you," he said.

"I'm going," she said. "Trash can and water are on the ground right there. Drink some if you can and try not to make a mess. I'll be back," she added.

"Thanks babygirl," he called after her as she headed to the conference room.

[smt-obsessed]

✰MASTERLIST✰

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Hello! I'm a part of a lot of fandoms and I like to write!

Here's my Masterlist of all of the fandoms/characters I'll be writing for and all of my works and works in progress.

But I write slower than fuck, please bear with me lol.

Requests are open! ♡

(Check out my pinned post for more information)

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☆ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

American Horror Story

I can see this one being the cause of a lot of darkfics, especially Hotel. There will always be a trigger warnings list before anything I write, so please read it if you feel like you might need it.

Kit Walker

Lana Winters

Cordelia Goode

Madison Montgomery

Misty Day

The Countess

James Patrick March

John Lowe

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Attack On Titan

I'm gonna be honest; I haven't finished it. But I want to, even though I know the ending! But I've also been wanting to write for them... So please forgive me if they seem a little out of character, it'll get better I promise! I'll also probably be rewatching and getting caught up on it while writing these lol. I'll update y'all!

Armin Arlert

Connie Springer

Eren Jaeger

Hange Zoë

Jean Kirstein

Levi Ackerman

Mikasa Ackerman

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Criminal Minds

I had a really bad "Criminal Minds" hyper fixation 2 years ago, but I got out of it before I could finish any of the fics I had set up for them, so I deleted most of them like a year ago 😭

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Emily Prentiss

Penelope Garcia

Jennifer Jareau

Spencer Reid

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

D.C.

I just recently rewatched the first "Deadpool" movie and remembered how much I love it, so I'll hopefully be writing for him soon, as well as Harley Quinn! I'm also thinking that maybe I'll write about both of them x reader... But I'm not sure, we'll see!

Harley Quinn

Wade Wilson / Deadpool

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Jujustu Kaisen

So I haven't watched the second season 🙈 I was really liking it! but, in all honesty-

⚠SPOILERS⚠

I got spoiled on pretty much everything and I just could not continue on, knowing almost all of them were gonna die 😭.

Gojo Satoru

Megumi Fushiguro

Nanami Kento

Nobara Kugisaki

Yuji Itadori

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Life is Strange

Fun fact! I've never played this myself, I've just watched Jacksepticeye play it a lot, lolol. ♡ I'll probably add Rachel and Sean to this list but I definitely need to re-watch those two first.

Chloe Price

Max Caulfield

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

My Hero Academia

This is the first place I tried to shift too (iykyk), It never happened- but I might try again soon!

Eijiro Kirishima

Denki Kaminari

Iiada Tenya

Izuku Midoriya

JiTn BuWbaIigaCwaEra

Katsuki Bakugo

Kyoka Jiro

Momo Yaoyorozu

Shoto Todoroki

Tamaki Amajiki

Toya Todoroki

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Ouran High School Host Club

My comfort anime. it's problematic but so good.

Haruhi Fujioka

Hikaru Hitachiin

Kaoru Hitachiin

Kyoya Ootori

Takashi Morinozuka

Tamaki Suoh

Mitskuni Haninozuka

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Spy X Family

I love this show, I haven't finished it yet- but that's only because I'm waiting for the second part of the second season to be dubbed on Hulu!

Loid Forger

Yor Forger

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Sturniolo Triplets

I'm hyper-fixating on Matt at the moment, so I'm really sorry if I'm slow at writing for literally anyone else. 😭

Chris Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo

Nick Sturniolo

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Umbrella Academy

I absolutely love this show, I'm happy to talk about it with whoever wants to!

Allison Hargreeves

Ben Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Five Hargreeves

Lila Pitts

Klaus Hargreeves

Luther Hargreeves

Viktor Hargreeves

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Walking Dead

This is probably my favorite show ever; I've been watching it from the very start. Talk with me about it in my asks or messages!

Beth Greene

Daryl Dixon

Glenn Rhee

Maggie Rhee

Michonne

Negan Smith

Rick Grimes

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☆ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

And that's it!

(For now, at least.)

I would like to restate what I said at the top of this post; I really do want to write. I love thinking of ideas, planning it out, and writing it!

But I'm a very indecisive person as well as a perfectionist and so honestly, I'm just very slow at it. 😅

I promise I'll try to post as often as I can, though.

I love y'all! Talk to you later. ♡

[plasticlung]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/lost and found pt. 1 + 2ㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤdescriptionㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤduring a search for an unsub , spencer gets lost in a forest . the weather isn't his friend .

ㅤmain museㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤspencer reid . ㅤmain pairㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤspencer reid & derek morgan .

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , sick reid . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤn/a

ㅤword foundㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ2428 . ㅤdate writtenㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ16/05/2024 .

ㅤmaeve's notesㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤi really need to rewrite this one , but it was my first ever finished criminal minds fic so !

It wasn’t the first time (and it won’t be the last time) that the bureau has dealt with playing the high-stake game of hide-and-seek with an unsub. In most incidents though, the pursuit usually unfolded within a house, or within a city. This case is different it seems with no roads or no tall buildings for miles and miles. Instead, there is rough terrain, with trees and trees making sure the sky above is hardly seen. The dense forest stretches out in each and every direction, creating a maze of foliage that even those who have lived near the area their whole life have issues navigating it. 

Spencer Reid doesn't quite remember at what point he strayed from the group he started off with. It’s not like he was completely oblivious to his surroundings; rather, he just was quick to get stuck in his head. Maybe he just moved to the left when the group moved to the right, a small movement but it was enough that it quickly dissociated him from those around him. 

He wasn’t quick to panic though, it was no big deal. The sun is still high in the sky, although the sunlight was dimmed by the thick branches on each level that intertwined from tree to tree, and they are sure to be near him anyway. Maybe this is good though, he could cover even that small bit more land. Maybe he’ll catch something the rest won’t and lead to catching the unsub they are out here for.

He moved through cautiously as he always did, each step was calculated to avoid snapping twigs, or rustling leaves. He didn’t want to risk having the unsub hearing him. The air was thick, it was different than what Spencer was used to. The genius was used to the smell of artificial fragrances, of strong coffee, and of sweat. He wasn;t used to the scent of pine and of damp earth, he was glad that the snow stopped, although he could still feel the frosty floor beneath him as he walked, he wasn’t expecting this search so he wasn’t wearing the ideal shoes for this; he was only lucky that nothing leaked in yet. 

It wasn’t often that he got to walk around in pure nature like this, his mind as always raced at a hundred miles an hour, processing every single detail he could, logging them into his mental library. He noted the broken branches and the disturbed patches of ground, all the subtle signs that someone has passed through here recently. He paused for a moment, looking ahead to see what the unsub’s possible route could be. 

As he walked, he stopped mid-steps, listening intensely for any sounds that might indicate that his team is still near him still. They probably noticed his disappearance by now, or probably not if they are so stuck in with the unsub. Either way, he is not a kid, he can hold himself. The forest seemed to play tricks on his ears and his eyes, the sheriff warned him about that but he thought it was just the things locals say to get tourists scared.

Maybe there is science behind it though, he thought as he stomped deeper and deeper into the seemingly never-ending forest. Snow started to pour down through the tall trees, getting tangled up in his hair and getting caught on the scarf JJ forced on him right before he left. He was honestly embarrassed at the moment, but right now he is just thankful.

The snow started to pour down thicker and thicker as he continued to trek through the nature-filled terrain, it painted the floor white and blurred the forest. It somehow managed to make the forest seem claustrophobic. Spencer’s breath came out in puffs of mists. He is sure that Penelope’s glasses would be fogged up if she was out here. He ducked his chin into the scarf, he wished that he didn’t have to hold his gun out, all it did was make his hands turn colder than what they would be if he protected them in his pockets.

As he trudged forward, he knew he should turn back, but then he realised that he couldn’t really tell his lefts from his rights, turning around he was faced with nothing but a maze. He knew that staying in one place could be dangerous, and it also wouldn’t be useful to the case, but moving blindly through the forest wasn’t going to be much safer. The snow came down quicker now, the forecast said that the worst of it wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow afternoon, but that doesn’t seem to be the case as the wind alone nearly knocked the agent off his feet. The snowflakes grew larger and harsher, their relentless descent that won’t give up anytime soon made it harder to see or hear anything around him. He called out once or twice in hopes that he was closer to someone than he thought, but his voice was swallowed by the dense snowfall so he quickly stopped the useless action.

𐙚  ⁺　　scene change 　˖　  ┄　

Meanwhile, more and more people regrouped at the meeting point. Soon enough everyone was back, mutually agreeing that nothing good would come from risking themselves in aid of a search. They’ll return back and put their efforts elsewhere. Everyone was back, except for Spencer it seems. “Has anyone seen Reid ?” Morgan asked, his voice tense as he looked around at the people leaving. He was sure he could spot his boyfriend from a mile away and he definitely wasn’t here. 

Hotch was the one to go up to the head officer, one of the people Reid was meant to stay in the group with. Maybe Reid went back to the office earlier for one reason or another. Except they didn’t get the answer they were hoping for, instead the officer just said “Oh. He left mid-way through the search, we don’t really remember when.” 

Despite what the Senior Agent wanted to say, he bit his tongue and nodded before going back to his own group of Agents. “He said he left not even half way through the search; that they didn’t even notice he left,” it was usually hard to dictate Hotch’s tone, but there was no mistaking the venom behind his words. 

“We need to find him,” Prentiss was quick to say before pulling out her radio in a fruitless effort of contact, “Reid, this is Prentiss. Do you copy ?” They stood in silence for a moment, and it wasn’t a surprise when nothing came from the other side. 

“We can’t go back in; we could easily miss him and create a bigger issue,” Rossi said. “Let’s prepare stuff for when he comes back. Prentiss, JJ, go back and pick up fresh clothes for him, we will also have an ambulance as near as we can get it for a quick check up.” He couldn’t draw his eyes away from the forest, where one of his co-workers (and friends) was stuck.

“Reid is smart. If it was any of us that could survive out there, it’s him.”

𐙚  ⁺　　scene change 　˖　  ┄　

Spencer continued his solitary trek, his radio stopped working with the cold and he had no clue how much time had passed and how much time was left before he was found. Five minutes and five hours are impossible to tell apart in this timeless forest. He wasn’t even sure if he was noticed to be missing. Maybe the unsub has been found and his team is back on the plane home– logically, he knew that would be impossible, each person on his team has told him that he isn’t forgettable, and that they would never leave without him, but the snow is making it hard for him to think straight anymore.

He wrapped the scarf closer and finally put his gun away, opting instead to cross his arms in front of him. It’s not like the gun will be of any use to him anymore, not when he can’t see more than a few feet ahead. The temperature was dropping rapidly, and he knew he couldn’t keep like this for much longer without risking hypothermia. 

Half of his mind was focused on finding the unsub, and the other half was focused on finding some sort of shelter. He felt like he was losing his mind, vaguely hearing people’s voices but knew there was no one around. He just hopes he will find shelter before the forest claims him. Thankfully, it seemed like he wasn’t totally out of luck, and he found a dip in the terrain, enough that there is an overhead that can shelter him from the harsh falling snow for the most part. It won’t do much for heating him up, but he doesn’t think he could go much further. He isn’t sure if it’s the lack of sleep he has been getting, or the snow caught in his eyelashes that is making it harder and harder for him to keep his eyes open.

His feet started to tingle as he gave them a rest while the rest of his body shivered against the cold stone, he was shivering less than he originally was and he knew that was a bad sign. He could barely see his hands, but he could see the paleness they were, even paler than he usually is, he isn’t sure if his eyes are playing tricks on him of if his hands were actually turning a hue of blood, but either way, he held them close to his chest.

He found it slightly humorous really, an agent who died not by a serial killer, or through a hostage situation gone wrong, but by a bit of snow. He had to focus on his breathing, ensuring that he was having an intake of oxygen and against his best tries, he couldn’t help but fall in and out of consciousness, before falling asleep completely. 

𐙚  ⁺　　scene change 　˖　  ┄　

When he woke up, it seemed like everything yet nothing changed. He was no longer shivering at all, which should seem good, but he knew it was anything but. He had to stop himself from pulling the scarf off him. He was self aware enough to stop most of the subconscious behaviours he has read about hypothermia. 

He took his time in standing up, only now noticing how the snow lessened. Not by much, but enough that he could continue his move. Staying there would do no good for him. He started to walk in a straight line, not wanting to accidently walk in a circle. No matter how funny that might be. It felt like he was moving way too fast, while not walking far at all. He has only been drunk a handful of times, but he feels the same now as when he was drunk, where he can’t focus his vision and his body doesn’t seem to be totally in his control.

He didn't know how long he was walking until he could hear steps other than his own. He wasn’t sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him, but then he saw it– or more like, he saw him; Thomas Harlow, or ‘The Woodsman’ as the media dubbed him, the man coming out of a shack. There was no mistaking the rugged dark hair that was under a vibrant red beanie, a colour he is shocked that he hasn’t seen even through the trees before.

He went to reach for his gun, nearly dropping it as his cold hands tried to hold the equally cold metal. He couldn’t get steady for a shot, his hands not cooperating with him at all. It didn’t matter though, because a gunshot sounded out before his fingers made their way to the trigger. It took a moment, and then pain exploded in his leg.

Spencer gasped, his leg buckling quickly  beneath him as the bullet tore instantly through his flesh and muscle. He collapsed to the group, his gun low forgotten as he clutched his thigh, blood began to seep through his fingers, staining the snow around him crimson. There was a searing pain radiating from the wound, every heartbeat sent a new wave of agony through his body.

He tried to focus, to steady his breathing to the best of his ability. The forest around him blurred as his vision swam. He had to stay conscious, and he saw the man move away instead of towards him. He didn’t realise why he did that, until he heard more gunshots from behind him. The pain and cold was making it hard to stay present. He was slow to move around, even turning his head was too much effort it seemed. The world around him seemed to not exist as panic began to creep in and it got harder and harder to stay awake.

He wasn’t fully conscious when Hotch came by his side, at first flinching away not knowing who it was. He could hear them talking to him, but it all just felt like he was under water. “Stay with us, Reid,” he managed to make out, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate, and it was hard to even nod, so instead he just hummed and hoped it was not only heard, but understood.

When he next came too, there were no trees surrounding him. Instead, he found himself in a brightly lit room. It was a stark contrast to the dim and snowy forest, making him squint, worsening his headache despite not knowing that’s even possible. The steady beeping of a heart monitor along with the sterile, artificial smell of antiseptic told him he was in a hospital nearly instantly. 

He blinked a few times, bringing his hands up to squeeze his eyes, hissing out of pain, which alerted the doctor passing by the room, along with his boss who was at the foot of his bed. Hotch's usual stern expression softened with relief, something the rest of the team would laugh at in any other situation. Morgan was closer to him, instantly moving right beside him, “Had us scared, pretty boy,” he leaned down and kissed Spencer’s head.

“Wha-” He was quick to stop speaking, his throat was raw and dry, it felt like sandpaper. JJ was quick to pass him a glass of water with a straw coming out of it, not letting go of it. He took a second before he tried again. “Did we get him ? Thomas I mean.” Morgan’s hand moved to comb through the younger’s hair.

“Yes, we did”

[somber-sapphic]

hi it was me who sent in the request it was a emily x reader and the prompt was i am not sick i think , it was the reader who is sick thank you 🫶

A Call For Rest

〖Summary: After an exhausting week Emily convinces you to go home and rest.〗

〖Word Count: 900〗

〖Pairing: Emily x sick R〗

〖Notes: I'm so glad that reached you! And so so sorry about my accidental deletion, I truly don't know what happened there. I sincerely hope this makes up for it <3〗

“Hey love,” Emily murmured, appearing in the doorway as if she’d teleported there. You hadn’t heard her walk up, though you couldn't hear much through your clogged ears. You set your pen down and wiped your nose on your sleeve, too tired to care about how gross it was. The world was sort of hazy, your mind cloudy. 

Writing up case reports was probably not the best idea considering your current mental state but you remembered enough to feel confident that you could go over notes with JJ to get the full story. 

The media liaison would likely be okay if you just dropped the papers on her desk, she had already checked in on you twice and tried to force you to take some medicine. When you refused she’d settled for leaving a cup of tea on your desk. You drank a little bit but forgot and let it get cold, cold tea wasn’t appetizing. 

“Hi Em.” You croaked, the words grating across your throat. Swallowing was already painful enough but talking seemed impossible. Emily walked into your office and leaned against the side of your desk, looking down at the papers that you were scribbling on. She frowned at the illegible writing, trying to make out even the simplest words. You typically had great penmanship, rivaling even Hotch’s, but this was bad.

“Is it safe to assume you aren’t feeling very well?” She put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently, concerned that she could feel the heat through your shit. It was a light shirt, but still, she shouldn’t be able to feel your fever through a layer of fabric. 

“I’m fine, just tired. Long week.” You were trying to use as few words as possible while still speaking somewhat normally but with the way your voice sounded, it didn’t matter. Nothing could save you from the reality that you weren’t going to win this fight. The last thing you wanted to do was leave work unfinished to pile up, but Emily didn't look like she was letting you get away that easily.

“Hmm, long weeks don’t usually make me sound like I gargled knives for fun. And you feel pretty warm. And your nose is running.” If she kept listing off things you were doomed. You wiped your nose on your sleeve again and sniffled, not removing your eyes from the papers. It was getting harder and harder to focus, everything was so blurry, and your head felt so groggy. 

“I‘m not sick.” You protested, swiping a hand across your eyes in a useless attempt to clear your vision. You refused to accept that you were just lightheaded and no amount of blinking or rubbing your eyes could fix that. Emily sighed and laid her palm on your forehead, making a face at what she felt. 

“I think your fever would beg to differ. You aren’t getting much done here anyway. I can’t read any of that.” She gestured to your sloppily written paperwork, not bothering to sugarcoat it. She’d had enough experience trying to reason with you that she knew you responded better to directness than to dancing around a subject.

You frowned down at your desk and coughed into your fist, your lungs protesting the extra effort they were being forced to use. Emily put a steadying hand on your back, providing support as you choked on whatever your body decided it needed to hack up. 

 When you were finally finished you looked up at her to find dark brown eyes staring back, filled with concern. 

 “Please, you need to rest. You’re so pale, you look like a ghost. I don’t want you to pass out here.” She caressed your cheek, leaving her palm there as an extra show of her love for you. She wasn’t always the best at offering comfort, she had trouble figuring out how to, but this she could handle. There was an easy fix to being sick and she was more than willing to take care of you through it. 

 “What about-” 

 “I’ll take care of it. Let Emily take you home, I’ve seen corpses that look more alive than you.” JJ’s voice startled you, making you jump a little in your seat. God everyone was just popping up out of nowhere, maybe you were worse off than you thought. Emily smiled at the media liaison and wrapped an arm around your shoulders in a loose hug. 

 “Come on love. Let’s go home. I’ll help you walk.” 

 “I don’t need help walking.” You protested as she lifted you from your chair, proving that you not only needed help walking but you couldn't stand on your own. After taking a few wobbly steps under the concerned gaze of JJ, Emily picked you up deciding that it would be the easiest way to get you to the car in a timely manner. 

 You whined but settled into her arms, relieved by the warmth of her touch. She was warm and soft and strong enough to carry you easily. You pressed your face into the crook of her neck and closed your eyes to protect against the harsh light of the bullpen. 

 “Feel better hun,” JJ said softly, squeezing your arm on your way out. You tried to nod but your head was too heavy. You were practically asleep by the time Emily reached the parking lot, but you didn’t mind. Though you would never admit it you were eternally glad that Emily had shown up when she did, any longer and you were confident you would’ve fallen asleep at your desk. 

[criminal-mids]

#29 - Cabin Pressure

Prompt: Sick on a Road Trip

Sickie: Reid

Caretaker(s): Hotch ft. Gracia

Word Count: 2,206

Diana Reid was, during her worst days, incredibly suspicious of aeroplanes. She’d always insisted that her precious only son take the train, and he never minded. After all, trains are interesting and the scenery is nice. He’d read about airports, in books, and seen them in movies his friends made him watch, but every piece of media had left one thing out: the sounds.

He’d even been in an airport once before when he flew from Nevada to Virginia after his acceptance to the F.B.I. Academy, but he’d been with a friend then or rather one of his mother’s friends. An old colleague. He’d had business in Washington, so he’d offered to leave a week early to fly with Spencer. He’d done most of the talking, all of the navigating and let Spencer zone out with his noise-cancelling headphones (a graduation gift from when he’d received his first PhD) and a book.

But now, he’s on his own, even with a group of four other people.

The lights keep flickering. It makes Spencer wonder how no one has noticed. But of course, he knows why. He’s just sensitive.

‘And Agent Jareau said this is a small airport. If something like this bothers me, can I even do this job? Should I just go home now, before I make a fool of myself?’

Voices overlap like a grating cacophony. Couples arguing over tickets, parents fussing over and at whining teens, crying babies, toddlers and single young adults with game audio playing at inconsiderate volumes, static heavy P.A.s, and phone calls, all dip in and out. As soon as one sound quiets, another replaces it at what seems like twice the volume. Not to mention the jets just outside beyond the window. And yet, somehow he can still hear the buzzing of the lights.

And no one else seems to mind. 

He’d forgone his headphones, not wanting to risk missing an instruction from his new boss, Supervisory Special Agent Gideon. But now his head pounds and colours dance in his vision.

An announcement for boarding as they pass a gate makes him clap his hands over his ears, a reflex, but he puts them away before his colleagues notice.

‘I will not act like a baby.’

He wants to walk faster, to run, and get away from it all, but it would be rude to pass his boss, and he has no idea where they're going anyway. 

He’d heard Ms. Jareau complaining as they got into the car, that normally they’d be allowed to drive up to the apron, but couldn’t this time due to some reconstruction.

At last, after a walk that can’t have taken more than 10 minutes, but felt like a marathon, they reach the door to the private area of the apron.

It’s at the same time a reprieve and so much worse.

On one hand, there is less quantity of sounds, but on the other hand, the volume blinds Spencer for a moment and he rushes to catch up to his new colleagues.

-

The small jet is an oasis of quiet. Spencer can still hear the noise if he gets too close to a window, and the lights do buzz a bit, but it’s negligible compared to the monstrous collage inside the airport and out on the apron.

He sits down quickly, still feeling less than stable.

Hotch is talking to the rest of the team, but he hasn’t calmed down enough to clearly understand the words. So, as quietly as he can he starts reciting chemical formulas. They come into the forefront of his mind as easy as breathing, like the ABCs or Twinkle Little Star to most children, familiar and comforting. He focuses on the words one at a time until he stops shaking and the buzzing of the lights is less prominent. Eventually, he just lets the formulas run through his mind. It actually helps him focus on SSA Gideon’s voice.

He doesn't realise he closed his eyes until he looks up to the curious, slightly sceptical gaze of his new colleague, Agent Morgan.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I was listing, I just-”

“Anxious about flying?” Agent Morgan says, confident.

Wrong.

“No, not at all. The odds of dying in a plane crash are only one in 11 million. Fractional compared to the odds of being in a car crash, which is approximately one in 5,000. This is probably because between the two industries, safety standards-”

“Right, didn’t mean to assume.” Morgan looks back to SSA Gideon. He looks awed and a bit freaked out like Spencer is some . . . creature.

Reid looks down, “Sorry for interrupting, please continue.”

—

The briefing is done, and they’ve each been given tasks. Agency Morgan with SSA Hotchner, and Spencer with SSA Gideon.

Spencer reads dutifully over his case file, studying the area map.

A voice, the slightest break in the quiet makes him look up. Agent Morgan is whispering to Agent Jareau, and they’re glancing at Spencer.

“Seems like new boy’s got a mean streak.”

Spencer almost looks up at that. ‘Mean streak? What are they- oh- But I wasn’t being . . . Oh. This is going to be like high school all over again, isn’t it?’ He droops at the thoughts, trying to put it out of his mind and focus on the lines of the map.

Agent Jareau is silent, Spencer pretends he can’t feel her judgmental gaze. Then she says, “Yeah, real life of the party, that one.”

Party-pooper. Buzzkill. Baby. Dork. Nerd. Loser. The insults bounce around his mind like the kickballs that always seemed to fly his way on field days.

‘Not insults, just facts.’

“He might be a kid genius, but none of this will work if he can’t be a team player.”

“If he wants to be a loner, I guess it doesn’t matter as long as he can do the job. Hotch never comes drinking with us, after all.”

‘Don’t they understand that’s all I’ve ever wanted, to be on a team with someone! That’s why I came here. I knew it, though, I knew I wouldn’t belong here.’

“Yeah, but he has Jack and the missus.”

Agent Jareau sighs, “Gideon has faith in him, so we should too, right? He’ll get used to flying soon enough.”

These words make the previous ones sting a bit less, but the respite is over quickly.

“Maybe then he won’t feel the need to be such a little prick. This team doesn’t need a moody teenager. He can’t even shoot.”

He catches Agent Morgan’s gaze for an instant, but can’t stand to look, so he ducks back down, hoping the older man didn’t notice.

—

“Attention, everyone.” The intercom startles Spencer out of his map-reading daze.

“We’ve run into some inclement weather, so I’ll be taking us up a bit higher, just to get over these storm clouds.” 

As soon as he ends his sentence the ascension begins. 

The pain stops Spencer’s thoughts in their tracks, it’s sudden and sharp, quickly surrounding his head and ears. A whine slips out of him before he presses his lips together.

He’d expected this. ear barotrauma, it’s called, the so-called “popping” feeling in the eardrum due to sudden dramatic changes in barometric pressure. It can also occur on the ground when climbing mountains or even for some people before big storms. He even brought chewing gum for this very purpose, but he can’t even think of moving now, lest the pain get worse.

‘It’ll go away, it’ll go away. I’ll be fine. I will be fine.’ 

10 minutes later he is not fine. His head feels full like he’d just been shoved in a too-small locker again and hit his head on the door, or shoved down the stairs, or more accurately, like he’s about to spontaneously combust.

He feels stupid and useless.

‘My chewing gum is right there, I just need to’

His thoughts are interrupted by his case file sliding off his lap, spilling papers everywhere. Agent Morgan looks up at the noise, frowning. 

‘All this would be fixed if I could just- Should I ask someone? No, I’d look like a kid. (I am a kid.) SSA Gideon and SSA Hotchner will never take me seriously after this. And I’ve already pissed off Agent Morgan and Agent Jareau.’

Spencer gives what he hopes is a friendly smile, through the pain. It’s kind of hard, remembering the man’s words from earlier. “Little prick.” “Moody teenager.”

‘Why bother when he clearly doesn’t want me here?’

Before he realises it, he’s rocking slightly back and forth. It’s barely noticeable, but SSA Hotchner notices. He’s been watching Spencer for a few minutes now. As an ex-prosecutor, he can tell when people are squirming. 

This isn’t that, not quite anyway, but ‘The poor boy certainly looks uncomfortable. He didn’t seem defensive when Morgan questioned him about flight anxiety earlier, and I’ve talked to him before during his interviews. That truly is just his nature, but something is going on. He’s an adult, but just barely. I’ll be tactful. He’s shy, I wonder if he’ll even tell me. I only hope it’s not anything serious. If it is, somehow I think I’ll have quite a time trying to get the truth out of him.’

“Reid, are you alright?” He shifts into the seat across from Spencer, tone calm, but concerned. It’s the first time he’s seen the man look anything besides stern. He didn’t think he could.

“I . . .”

It’s the first time he’s really talked to SSA Hotchner about anything not relating to work, but at least he’s not frowning.

“You look a bit stressed. We need your head in the game, so if something is bothering you, get it out now, or find a way to deal with it before we land. The things you’re going to see here are, well there's no kind way to say it, gruesome, terrible, and cruel. And if you aren’t in the right headspace in your personal life, then this job won’t end well.”

“No.” The word is a whine.

SSA Hotcner’s expression shifts into a scary calm, ready to deal with the worst. “Are you hurt? Ill?”

Spencer gestures to his ear. 

Agent Hotchner nods and steps away, dialling someone on his mobile.

Spencer tries his best to listen through his aching ears.

“ . . . Good, you can send that to Morgan and Gideon. We’ll get on it right away. However, I have another concern. How does one treat aeroplane ear-aches? . . . No, not me, Reid. I think this may be his first time flying, and Gideon,” Hotch pauses, glancing at Spencer, who pretends not to be paying attention. “Briefed me that he has certain sensitivities . . . alright, yes that would make sense. I don’t have any, but I’ll ask. Thank you, Garcia.”

SSA Hotchner hangs up the phone, calling out to the rest of the cabin, “Does anyone have chewing gum?”

Three confused “No”s fill the cabin.

“I-I do,” Spencer manages.

SSA Hotchner turns back toward Spencer, “You do?”

Spencer nods and points to his bag. “Front pocket.”

“Okay, well Garcia says chewing it should release the pressure.” 

Spencer nods again, mouthing “I know.” 

It takes Agent Hotchner a few long seconds to understand, “Well, then why didn’t you- Ah, I see. Do you need me to get it?”

Spencer nods again, moving his bag into the aisle with his foot. SSA Hotchner unzips it, rifling through the front pocket. He finds the pack of mint gum quickly and hands it to Spencer.

Spencer takes it gratefully, fumbling with the wrapper in his haste.

—

“Thank you, Agent Hotchner.” Spencer tells the man sincerely when the pain has finally passed.”

“You are a part of this team, Reid. Just “Hotch” is fine. But next time do try to be better prepared.”

“Yes, of course, Ag- Hotch.”

“If it's any consolation, we’ll be flying a lot-”

“After this, that’s not much of a consolation.” 

SSA Hotchner looks at Spencer in surprise. Spencer freezes. 

‘I shouldn’t have said that. My jokes always land wrong. What was I thinking? I’m going to be fired now.’ He can practically hear Morgan’s wince.

“Nice going, kid,” he mutters.

Spencer looks down in shame, “I’m sorry, that- that was a joke, Agent Hotchner. I have problems with tone sometimes and I didn’t mean to”

After a second, the man cracks a small smile. He halts Spencer’s apology with a shake of the head, “Fair enough. But I was going to say that due to the frequency of air travel that accompanies this job, I’m sure your body will adapt quickly.”

“Yes, sir.”

Agent Hotchner looks at him with an expression that uncannily resembles his mother’s when he’d do something right after she told him not to.

“Yes, Hotch.”

With that, A- Hotch suits back in his seat as if nothing ever happened. But everyone notices that he looks relieved.

‘If Hotch approves, maybe there’s something I’m missing.’ Morgan thinks, ‘Maybe I should give this kid a chance. And he did make it all the way here.’‘That wasn’t . . . terrible. Maybe everything will work out after all.’ Spencer takes a deep breath, focusing on the flavour of the gum as he gets back to work.

[angieblogging]

Little One | jemily

pairings: Emily Prentiss/Jennifer Jareau,

summary: When JJ faces a bad pregnancy day, Emily is there with her favourite tea and some time to care for her wife.

other tags: kina sickfic, established relationships, pure fluff, short & sweet.

— AO3

The pregnancy was a tough call for both Emily and JJ, neither of them wanted to leave work or drop their ambition to raise a little-them. So they considered it for months and months, now it was reality… Everything went well, Emily took some time off for JJ and their soon to be baby, but this morning was different.

The two barely slept last night, the room temperature kept bothering Jennifer, it was too hot at first, then too cold, then it was okay, but the air felt too stuffy, so she opened the window, just to whine again about how cold it is. Emily didn’t mind it that much, she was exhausted the moment she got to close her eyes she drifted away into sleep.

It was a cold Saturday, in October. The two had a whole day planned, because soon enough Emily had to get back into field and JJ was in no condition to work for now. However the two barely slept, before JJ stormed out of the room into the bathroom, Emily as a light sleeper woke up as soon as JJ left and followed her.

She gently grabbed the woman’s blonde hair and used her other hand to softly caress her back.

“Hey…Are you alright?” Emily frowned as she remained next to her wife.

“Yeah, it’s just—“ She paused for a moment breathing unsteadily. “Morning sickness.”

Emily nodded in understanding, even though she herself was never pregnant, she saw how hard it was for JJ at times, she was after all caring their child, a little girl.

JJ got up soon and washed over her face carefully in the nearby sink, Emily stood near her, looking at the scene slightly concerned for the woman, but she said nothing. There was no point in making her pregnant wife upset.

“So, what do you want for breakfast, hm?” A bright smile creeped onto Emily’s face as she hugged the blonde from behind, her fingers tracing circles on Jennifer’s stomach.

“I don’t know…” The blonde’s voice was tired, she practically whispered, sounding like she hasn’t slept in days.

“Okay, how about some tea for now?” Emily placed a gentle kiss on JJ’s neck and walked out of the room, leaving her wife alone.

Now in the kitchen, Emily made tea, mint for herself and earl grey for JJ. Their favourites.

JJ managed to get herself downstairs before laying down on the couch, a sigh left her mouth. Emily sat next to her, placing the colourful cups (which were a gift from Garcia) on the coffee table.

“Jennifer, what’s wrong?” Emily looked more serious now, as she scanned the blonde’s face looking for answers.

“Damn profilers—“ She whined out before sitting up straight. “Your child is making me miserable, she doesn’t have to kick that much.”

“So now it’s just my child?” Emily chuckled before placing her hands, palms down, onto Jennifer’s belly.

The raven haired woman leaned over to be closer to her wife’s stomach, her breath was light tingling JJ.

“Hey there, little one…” Emily whispered as JJ looked down at her, slightly amused. “You have to be nicer to your mama…You can be a pain in the ass later!” Her voice was soft as she whispered over Jennifer’s belly, she also placed a soft kiss on it before sitting up straight.

Jennifer had the wildest grin on her face, as she looked at Emily.

“What? She obviously has no choice but to listen!” Emily smiled as she tucked Jennifer’s hair behind her ear.

The two sat in silence for a moment, with their tea and a blanket. Soon enough JJ spoke up.

“So…I was thinking about names…”

Emily looked at her, shifting her full focus at the woman, as she nodded at the words, in acknowledgment.

“What would you say for Rosalyn?” Jennifer’s voice was soft as she asked, both of them knew exactly where that name came from, but neither was going to dig up that…Not now.

“Yeah, yeah…I think it’s great.” Emily smiled as Jennifer placed her head onto the woman’s arm.

“You know…I think she actually listened to you.” Jennifer chuckled, as Emily sipped her tea proudly.

[patchs-curiosity-corner]

𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝑴𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒀𝒐𝒖 | 𝑺.𝑹. - 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: A new member is added to the BAU soon after Reid’s kidnapping. She seems determined not to overlook him. or A timeline of the budding relationship between SSA Doctor Spencer Reid and his coworker who’s always been there for him. Told through snippets of 5 times she helped him heal, and one time he returned the favor.

“𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎?”

“𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗, 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐.”

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝟓𝐭𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕 - 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒉

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕 - 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒚

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟗𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟖 - 𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗 - 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟑𝐫𝐝, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗 - 𝑺𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟒𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟒 - 𝑶𝒇 𝑷𝒐𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒇𝒇

[davussyyy]

Spencer Should Probably Adjust His Priorities

Spencer is sick but he doesn’t think the team can afford him not being there.

October 23 - Whumperless Wednesday

Fever, passing out, “Hey?! Stay with me, okay?!”