Mostly just Rhea Ripley and AHS fics with minor Judgement Day and maybe Liv Morgan involvement sprinkled in sometimes.
All dividers are reblogged.
Warnings:
- I firstly want to clarify that these fics are in no way written about the real life people that play the characters I write about. WWE uses fictional characters, such as Rhea Ripley, in their storylines. I don’t feel comfortable writing for the actual actors-actresses who portray the characters I write about, in any fandom.
-Most, if not all, of my works are 18+ for smut and/or dark content.
masterlist || wip list || request rules || request prompts
I’m moving blogs! As much as I love this blog, it’s attached to my old blog, which is my main, and I unfortunately can’t delete it without deleting all of my side blogs.
I’ll still be keeping this blog up for anyone who wants to reread one of my fanfics here, but any new fics I make will be posted to the new blod, including requests that were made here. So, if you’re waiting for me to write your requests, please go follow my new blog so you can read it.
The new blog is marchs-hummingbird. Hope to see you all there!
Hey everyone, I’m back with another monthly challenge! For the months of October AND November, I am formally challenging any willing writer to take a stab at writing fanfiction including the season of Autumn using their choice of Criminal Minds characters! Reader, Original Character, Character/Characterships, Gen/Platonic fics are allowed! Please check out the Rules below the Keep Reading.
There are a LOT of prompts below the cut, so keep going!
(**This is NOT a request list for me—this is a prompt list of other writers! Feel free to request from someone else, and be sure to let them know about the challenge!)
General Prompts
Characters fight over the perfect pumpkin.
Characters share a bale of hay on the hayride.
Character A helps B cope with the lack of sunlight.
The BAU takes a holiday trip to Rossi’s hunting cabin.
Character A “helps” B with baking for the Fall Festival.
Character A is shocked by how cold B’s hands get in Fall.
Character insists on getting the perfect apple. And then they fell on their ass.
The BAU’s Missed Holiday Meal is the first family meal Character's ever enjoyed.
It’s unseasonably warm, but that won’t stop Character from wearing fall sweaters.
Character A tells spooky stories around the bonfire. Now B is afraid to sleep alone.
or anything else you can think of!
Halloween Prompts (SFW)
Wait. That isn’t fake blood. Oh no.
Character has a “secret admirer” for Halloween.
Character A thinks B is in costume… they are not.
Characters argue about the accuracy of a costume.
Character A hates Halloween. B tries to change that.
Character A grabs the wrong hand in a haunted house.
Character is very brave while watching the horror movie.
Character A catches B’s wardrobe malfunction seconds before disaster.
Keep reading for more prompts + rules!
Halloween Prompts (NSFW)
Character's costume is multipurpose.
It’s okay. Screaming is normal on Halloween.
Characters have sex... with the costumes on.
Period sex is, in a way, thematically appropriate.
Character A’s costume is awakening something in B.
Character A dresses as B’s fantasy to fuck with them.
Character A’s obsession with lollipops is becoming a serious problem for B.
Dialogue Prompts
"That is NOT a horror movie."
"Wait, are you afraid of the dark?"
“You’re scarier without the mask.”
“Am I meant to be afraid or aroused?”
“No way, you’re a fan of (sports team)?!”
“Gourds are very versatile.” “You look insane.”
“If the leaves are allowed to change, so are you.”
“My costume is not cute. It’s scary and powerful.”
“Stop looking at me like that. The candlelight is for dramatic effect, not romance.”
Your fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs and crossovers are more than welcome.
Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I collect both! You can also tag “#mentioningmargins”
The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check. Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed. Please also include some indication of rating if it is NSFW.
Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post. For xReader fics, PLEASE specify if your reader is Female, Male, or Gender Neutral.
Have fun!
The Masterlist of fics will be posted around Nov. 30. If you finish after that, no problem - just send me the fic once you’re done and I’ll add it after-the-fact!
Feel free to message me if you want help developing a plot, have any questions, or just want to gush about your fic. I’m happy to help, and I’m happy you’re here ❤️
KYLE SPENCER is growing increasingly restless. his brow furrows, as something inside him begins to stir — something he doesn’t fully understand. he rolls over, staring at you in the near-darkness and he knows it’s wrong to do this while you’re still asleep, but the thought of waking you makes him hesitate just a second longer. fingers graze lightly on your waist as he takes in the softness of your skin beneath the thin blanket. his touch lingers, testing his own restraint.
he knows he shouldn’t, that this isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen, but the ache in his groin is unbearable. you don’t stir, still sound asleep, chest rising and falling gently under the blankets. kyle lets out a low groan, frustration bubbling up inside him, hand shaking slightly as it moves lower, grazing your thigh.
the image of his cock disappearing in and out of your slippery cunt like a magic trick simply doesn’t leave his mind. a pavlovian response stirs, and his rapidly swelling cock is starting to fill in his pants. even in his resurrected, uncoordinated state, he is hyperaware of your presence — the soft, pillowy feeling of your breasts pressed against him, twin peaks of your nipples poking through the fabric of your shirt is enough to pull a needy whine from his throat.
he’s torn. the rational part of him—the part that knows right from wrong—fights against the primal urge to take what he wants, but it’s so hard to think clearly. his mind is foggy, jumbled, and the sensation of your skin under his hand makes it worse. he doesn’t want to wake you up, doesn’t want you to see him like this—desperate, confused, out of control—but he can’t stop himself.
clumsy fingers grip at the bedsheets, twitching with the urge to feel you. slowly, kyle’s hand creeps down your body, grazing your bare leg. when he reaches the hem of your booty shorts, a low grunt escapes him as the uncomfortable pressure of his pants grew.
then he gets an idea.
hands fumble the band of his pajama bottoms, a few frustrated noises before successfully tugging it alongside his boxers down to his thighs. his angry, stiff cock spring up and hits against his stomach. carefully, he slots his shaft into the space between your thighs, relishing in the heat of your still-clothed cunt. he starts grinding against you, the leaking precum from his tip slicking your thighs. hips rutting like a dog in heat, his movements become a bit rougher now, less controlled, but still trying to be gentle. the mattress creaks underneath, and you’re squirming and making soft little noises which only pushes him off the edge.
it isn’t until the next morning when you discovered your soaked panties that you realised what might have happened.
in which spencer notices your bruised knees and tries to make it up to you
18+ (fluff, allusions to past intimacy)
warnings/tags: gn!reader i believe, reader has bruised knees lol, guess why, implied intimacy, hurt/comfort, sorta implied d/s dynamics maybe?? spencer is so smart and not very smart, but forever my no. 1 cutie pie
a/n: why do i love writing about smut like before and after smut way more than i actually like writing smut LOL anyways here is this cause i haven't been posting very much!!! (also ik I said I don't like babe as a pet name but shhh) and GIF :D
“Hey,” you grunt as you flop on the bed in your pajamas, rumpling the neat covers. “Pay attention to me.”
Spencer holds his Sudoku off to the side and watches, eyebrows raised, as you scoot closer, tossing your leg over him. Soon he’s abandoning the book and pen on the bedside table in favor of hooking his fingers under your knee and stroking your leg, much to your delight.
“Okay. What kind of attention would you like?”
You allow him to put his other arm around you and settle your cheek on his shoulder.
“This is pretty good.”
“Oh, good,” he says with only a hint of teasing, leaning down slightly to kiss your lips and then the tip of your nose.
When he pulls away you can’t help smiling up at him like a lovestruck idiot. Obviously he’s perfect all the time, but in his glasses, with his hair messy, wearing a navy crewneck instead of a button up and tie… he’s just… he’s just so…
He’s just so alarmed?
“Honey, your knee.”
“My knee?” Your own brows furrow and you track his eye line, craning your neck to look down to the blotchy sprawl of purple and red marring your skin. “Oh.”
The pillow is soft under your head where it falls, unconcerned even as Spencer gawps at you, baffled by your nonchalance.
“What did you do?”
You snort.
“What did you do, Spencer?”
It’s cute, the way his lips move as he silently repeats the sentence, trying to discern the meaning of your words.
“What do you mean? I did something?”
“Babe.”
The knot between his brows has not loosened any—in fact you’re worried he’s going to give himself a headache. Or at least make himself dizzy, with the way his eyes cycle between your own. You try again, covering his anxious hand on the bend of your leg with your own.
“When we got back from Penelope’s thing, the other night?”
Slowly the understanding seeps into his expression—soft guilt in his eyes, and a deep red stain in his cheeks. At least his face relaxes.
“Oh.”
God, he’s so cute. He can’t hold eye contact, looking down once the shock of embarrassment has faded and swallowing, a little frown twisting his features once more. You reach up, brushing his cheek with a thumb and adjusting his glasses.
“What’s wrong?”
The question comes out too smiley, but you can’t help it.
“I hurt you,” he says, quietly, utterly ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“I kinda think you did,” you tease, and Spencer says your name with a serious edge. You try to quit grinning so much. “Baby, it’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. Don’t you ever get mysterious bruises?”
His eyes are wide and honest on yours when he meets them again.
“No. My iron levels are optimal.”
Naturally.
“Okay, well, lots of people do. Sometimes I get a bruise and I have no idea what it’s from because it never hurt. These,” you look down, gesturing to your knee, “never hurt. It’s just what happens when your knees hit the floor.”
“Well you shouldn’t have been on the floor,” he scolds, countering with a sweet touch on your cheek. “I’m never letting you touch the floor ever again.”
Your shit-eating grin is back and better than ever. “Oh, so you’re going to carry me everywhere we go?”
“If that’s what it takes. I don’t like seeing you bruised up.”
“It’s okay. I bruised myself doing something I love.”
At this Spencer rolls his eyes and kisses you once more before gently pushing your leg away and getting out of bed.
“Where are you going?” You ask, all smugness gone and more concerned than you ought to be as he flicks the bathroom light on. For a moment you receive no answer, but then he reappears bearing a white tube.
“Give me your legs,” he says, sitting next to you on the bed. You swing your legs over his lap and watch on in mild interest as he dispenses lotion from the bottle and tosses it aside, carefully rubbing it into the bruised skin. Every few seconds he glances up to gauge your reaction, and though it’s definitely tender, you avoid wincing. “You don’t have to do that. I can tell it hurts.”
You laugh.
“Yeah, well, it didn’t until you started trying to fix it.” The ointment is pungent and you make a face. “What are you rubbing all over me?”
“This is vitamin K and Arnica. It will make the bruises go away faster.”
“Aw. You don’t think they’re pretty on me?”
He sets the bottle on the nightstand and retrieves the pen he’d been doing Sudoku with earlier, uncapping it. Your heart swells as he draws tiny sad faces by the bruises on your knees, glasses slipping down his nose as he focuses intently.
“I always think you’re pretty. I just never want you to be hurt, ever.”
“Are you done taking care of me now?” You ask, reaching out for him. The pen joins the bottle and suddenly he has no concern for your bodily health, practically crushing you with a hug. When he speaks it’s muffled by your shoulder.
“Never.”
You hum, nose tickled in his hair and forming a dastardly plan.
“You could kiss them better.”
Spencer laughs and presses his lips briefly to your neck.
warnings: angst, grieving dead loved one, no happy ending // wc: 700+
spencer reid x fem!reader (no use of y/n)
A million thoughts flew through Spencer’s mind, as they always did, as if his brain was the superhighway. Rain pattered softly against the window, dark clouds looming in the night sky, as he cuddled himself further into the bed.
He replayed the previous few weeks in his head, recalling every small detail. He always thought it was a gift, that he would never forget the way your eyes sparkled when you were happy, the look of your hair in the soft morning sunrise, the image of your skin in the moonlight. Now, he felt as though it was anything but. Cursed to remember the feeling of your bodies tangled together, the sound of your melodic laughter, the memory of hushed whispers in the dead of night, hidden from the world in a cocoon of blankets, and knowing it was all gone.
He couldn’t help but wonder if it was all his fault, as self-doubt and pity creeped in. Could he have been better? Is there something he could have said, or done? Was he too dependent, too self-critical, or not affectionate enough? Or was it inevitable, like the last embers of a once warm and glowing candle dying out?
A part of Spencer didn’t want to believe that it was all over. He was a man of logic, facts were everything to him, yet you seemed to have stripped that all away. Facts meant nothing when he felt lost, half-convinced he would look up and you would be there, smiling down at him, looking like an angel sent from heaven. That’s what you were to Spencer, it’s what you always had been. His saving grace.
The team had been constantly checking over his shoulder, out of concern, and a worry he would return to his old habits. The thought almost made Spencer laugh. You would be so disappointed if he started taking dilaudid again, so guilty that you drove him to it. No, he wouldn’t do that to you. He wouldn’t let you see him like that. You would come back, right? And when you did, Spencer would be sure that he was ready, not hopped up on drugs.
“Sir,” woman’s voice rang out softly in the room, almost afraid of startling him, as if anything too loud would set him off.
Sir. He wasn’t Spencer there, not Doctor Reid. He wasn’t anything, not without you.
“Sir?” The same voice called as Spencer refused to look up, only burying his face further into the blankets. Spencer was sure it would work, that if he could just hide himself then none of this would be true, just a bad dream that could be warded off with a sheet.
“We need to prep the body,” those words seemed to somewhat knock Spencer out of his stupor of denial as he glanced up. He still refused to look at the nurse, his gaze trained solely on you, on the bruises and cuts maring your face. You were still beautiful, you would always be beautiful to Spencer. You could be covered in scars, and violent purple bruises, and be bald, for all he cared. He would never meet someone more perfect, more ethereal.
“She’s going to wake up soon,” Spencer voiced adamantly. The heart monitor had flatlined long ago, but it was as if Spencer never even heard it.
He did, he absolutely did. It’s what threw him into a pit of despair and agony, the sound being the final note in Spencer’s life, the soundtrack to the end. He couldn’t possibly go on, not now. Not while you lay still beneath him, body battered in from the ubsubs attacks, breathing stilling to a halt.
No, this wasn’t right. None of it was. You were supposed to wake up, hold him, kiss him, and marry him. Spencer’s fingers toyed idly with the shimmering ring on your finger.
“She’ll wake up,” he repeated, with such conviction you would’ve almost believed him, if not for the way his hands shook and you lay lifeless in the hospital bed.
Spencer always knew everything, something he took great pride in. He had his whole life planned to the moment. But, with every second that you remained unresponsive to his hushed words, and delicate kisses to your face, his future slowly swirled around the drain, leaving only blackness behind.
And the million thoughts in Spencer’s head finally stopped, replaced with only you.
written by @briaroftheroses, august 15th 2024
tags: @fear-is-truth @slutforgarlogan
a/n: woke up in an angsty mood today and made my first spencer fic 🤪
also i’m so sorry i haven’t post a fic in like five months 😭 i have been writing, just nothing’s been getting finished
something simple. I had these wavy dividers on my main blog and wanted to make something like it. I’ll release the one I use on my main later, but for now, double wavy !
patterns : 001 / 002 / 003 / 004
feel free to use; please like, reblog, and credit〜
⋆ ࣪ . summary : you comfort spencer as he experiences a nightmare during a late-night flight on the jet.
the jet hummed quietly through the night, a steady cadence that usually lulled you to sleep. most of the team was out cold, having solving a particularly challenging case. you glanced at your boyfriend, who had been resting his head on your lap.
a soft smile tugging at your lips. even in sleep, spencer was beautiful— eyelashes fanning out over his high cheekbones, his expression peaceful. but as you watched, you noticed his brow beginning to furrow and his breathing becoming uneven.
you knew all too well what this meant.
gently, you placed a hand on his arm, rubbing small circles with your thumb.
“spence,” you whispered, leaning closer.
“it’s okay, i’m here.”
he stirred slightly but didn’t wake. instead, his expression tightened further, and a small, distressed sound escaped his lips. your heart ached for him, knowing the nightmares that plagued his sleep far too often. you all had nightmares—working at the BAU did that to you. the horrific crime scenes, the brutal cases, they left their mark on everyone. but spencer seemed to take it harder than most. his mind, so brilliant and filled with facts, also held onto every painful detail and trauma. he carried it with him, even in sleep.
“shh, you’re safe,” you murmured, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. you pressed a tender kiss to his temple, hoping that it could reach him even in his dreams.
slowly but miraculously, the tension in his face began to ease. his breathing steadied, and he shifted closer to you, his hand finding yours and gripping it tightly, even in sleep. you squeezed back, letting him know that you were there.
as he relaxed, his head slid down from your shoulder to your lap, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight. smiling, you ran your fingers through his hair, the repetitive motion soothing for both of you. you could feel him sinking deeper into sleep, his nightmares retreating into the dark crevices in his brilliant mind.
“i love you,” you whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear you, but feeling the need to say it anyway.
spencer let out a contented sigh, the sound of it melting your heart. you continued to stroke his hair, basking in the quiet intimacy of the moment. the unsub has been caught and arrested, the jet was heading home, and the man you loved was finally at peace.
for now, that was all that mattered.
spencer reid masterlist
fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.
✶ no big deal — spencer reid x reader || pure fluff
⋆ ࣪ . summary : spencer is a germaphobe. you soon learned that everything has an exception.
the office buzzed with the usual morning activity as you entered, a cup of coffee in your hand. your boyfriend was already seated at his desk, completely absorbed in a file. his left hand also cradled a cup of coffee, while his right held a half-eaten chocolate donut covered in sprinkles. you walked over and stood behind him, smiling to yourself as you watched his brow furrow in deep concentration.
feeling a bit playful, you leaned over his shoulder, eyeing the donut in his hand. without thinking too much about it, you quickly leaned in and took a bite out of the donut, savouring the sweet chocolate.
the moment the taste hit your tongue, guilt quickly followed. you knew how spencer felt about certain things, especially given his germaphobia. you immediately pulled back, eyes wide with regret.
“oh my god, spence, i’m so sorry,” you blurted out, “i didn’t even think—i’ll go get you a new one right now.”
spencer paused, lowering the file and turning to look at you. you braced yourself, expecting him to be at least a little bit annoyed. but instead, he deadpanned,
“you know, we’ve exchanged worse bodily fluids than saliva,” you stared at him, face heating up.
“touché.”
his lips twitched into a faint smile as he took another bite of the donut, deliberately from the same spot where you had. then, reaching out his hand, he brushed a sprinkle from your bottom lip before leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your mouth.
“see?” he murmured against your lips.
“no big deal.”
spencer reid masterlist
fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.
