#derek morgan drabble

[luveline]

hi jade! can we get a derek x shy!reader please? love you <3

When Derek pictured his future wife, he was gluttonous. He wanted a lot of things. Stunning, intelligent, quick. She’d be a bombshell, long legged, hair like a magazine. 

You aren’t completely out of these bounds, of course, you’re beautiful and smart, you’re kind, but you’re meek. You’re very, very quiet. 

Not that that matters to Derek. He’s not stupid enough to keep picturing his dream girl when she’s right in front of him. Who cares if you’re not as loud as he’d thought you’d be? 

“You’re staring.” 

“Am I?” he asks. 

You hum. “Mm-hm. You’re staring.” 

Derek takes your hand across the small table you’ve monopolised together. You let him, staring back at him for a few seconds. There’s an attempt from you to stay serious, but then your gaze wavers and you smile down at your lunch. 

“Can I have some of that?” he asks. 

“You wanna swap half?” 

Since becoming an official couple, Derek might think going out for food together is his new favourite pastime. He’ll take you anywhere you want to go, and if you haven’t been there before you both buy a different meal to share with one another. Getting to do that at work, even on a small scale, inspires fondness and romance alike. He cuts his sandwich in half. You cut your burrito. You place it in his styrofoam tray with care and he’s twice as gentle. 

“If we get some time, after this, we should try their buffet. The Pink Lotus.” 

Derek beams at you. “Yeah, okay. We can always come back.” 

He loves saying that to you, as though you aren’t busy beyond trips. You love agreeing. 

“I’ll put it on the list,” you say, opening your hand. 

Derek takes it, and you don’t take it back for your entire meal, even when Hotch comes in and sits down with his own lunch. He stresses that lunch time is legally your time, so he doesn’t make you stop. If anything, Derek thinks he looks quite happy for you both. 

“What’s the verdict?” he asks as you pat your mouth with a napkin. 

“Burrito was nicer, but the sandwich was fresher. Hm?” 

“And messier,” he says, “you have rice on your collar.” 

You look down in startled shame, then back up with betrayal. “Don’t!” You take your hand away. “Don’t joke about that.” 

“Should’ve seen your face.” He stands up and gathers your finished lunch box on top of his own, leaning down to kiss you, not worrying about where it lands. 

On your cheek, as it would happen. He feels your eye squeeze closed to take it. 

[ddejavvu]

How would Derek morgan react if you cryed bc he cut his finger while opening a box for you 😭 I've literally done this before bc my dad was opening smth for me and he cut his finger 😭 I felt TERRIBLE

He doesn't notice your tears until he's sealing a bandage over the cut on his finger, but when he sees the misty sheen over your eyes, he jumps into action.

"Hey, woah mama, what's the matter?" He reaches for your waist, comforting both for his touch and the way you can't see his injury anymore.

"I'm sorry," You sniffle, "I didn't mean to make you cut yourself."

"You didn't jab me with the scissors," He laughs sympathetically, wiping your tears with his large thumb, "Don't sweat it, pretty baby, it was my fault."

"Still, you were opening it up for me," You lament, "'S my fault."

"Yeah, well technically it's Reid's fault that I fell on my ass last week on the jet," He shrugs, "But I didn't hold that against him or his inconveniently large feet that stick out into the aisle."

You giggle wetly, and he leans in to kiss your forehead with a smile on his face.

"You fell?" You ask, and he nods even if he scoffs at the questioning.

"Almost clocked my head on the table," He recalls, "But I escaped without a concussion."

"That's why your butt feels flatter," You muse teasingly, "I might have to fluff it back up again like a pillow."

His hands dart away from your waist to cover his backside, eyes wide and terrified, "No- no, do not get your hands anywhere near my ass. You're relentless, I can't ever get you off of it."

"It would make me feel better," You exaggerate the thickness of your voice, wiping at a phantom tear as if you'd been the one wounded.

"Oh, you- really? Fine, fine, you get one minute. Forty-five seconds, if you start getting too squeezy."

"If you really loved me you'd give me five minutes," You heave a sigh, hands already reaching for his ass, "But forty-five seconds will have to do."

"You're such a drama queen," He huffs, but the startled yelp he lets out when your nails dig into his skin through his jeans suggests that you're not the only dramatic one.

[fragileruns]

Hello love! Would it be possible to request something with derek morgan x inexperienced!reader? I think it's such an interesting dynamic since he's a very suave person. Maybe something about the reader being nervous or insecure of having less experience than he does? You can go either fluffy or smut or both 🥰 I hope this request finds you well. Thank you in advance!! ❤️

hi! thank you for your request <3 it’s just a little blurb but i hope you like it

derek morgan x reader. content warning: mentions of sex but no smut, reader being nervous, derek being a gentleman, reader likes coffee so if you don’t i’m sorry, reader has hair but i think the rest is gender neutral

You had spent longer than you’d care to admit picking out an outfit for your date tonight. You knew that Derek had seen you at your worst - working together had made it inevitable for him to see you sick at least once, tired, irritable, and much worse than that - but it still felt like a big deal.

It was your third date, and you knew what the implications meant. Even if you didn’t, Emily, JJ, and Penelope and taken to relentlessly teasing you to make sure you did know. And sure, you’d known each other for years and had been in this sort of relationship for a few months (your work made it hard to plan times to be together, which was why you’d been on so few dates), but you were nervous.

You had never really been with many people. Somehow, Derek had managed to be with quite a few people even with how often you had to be away for your job: you knew this because everyone did. He wasn’t exactly subtle. You, however, were not as skilled at picking up anyone while you were away or at home, for that matter. The only people you’d been with were the few actual relationships you’d had in the past.

So, you were sitting on his couch after your date - he had cooked for you, which somehow made this all even more nerve wracking - and you were trying desperately not to bounce your knee.

After what felt like forever, and simultaneously not long enough to prepare yourself, Derek had come to plop down next to you. He insisted you go sit while he did the dishes, something about being a ‘gentleman’ and ‘needing you to sit pretty.’

You were sure he’d noticed your nerves, but he had been kind enough not to say anything yet. However, once he placed a hand on your thigh in what was meant to be a comforting way, and you tensed up, he couldn’t hold it in.

“What’s up with you tonight? Did I do something wrong? You’re not vegan, are you?” He questioned, worried that maybe you hadn’t really enjoyed your dinner.

“What? No,” your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him for a mere second, before casting your gaze in front of you. “Nothing’s wrong with me, I’m just tired.”

“Trying to lie to a profiler? Babe, that’s like, the worst move you could make,” Derek chuckled slightly, turning to face you more. He was trying to make light of the situation, and you appreciated that, but your nerves didn’t seem to care.

“I’m a profiler, too.”

“So you should know you can’t hide things from me. C’mon, just spit it out,” his hand moved to brush your hair off of your shoulder before rubbing it to try and coax whatever was wrong out of you. “I promise I won’t laugh.”

You shot him a look, and he grinned. “Okay, depending on what it is, I may laugh. Just a little bit. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to tell me.”

“I just - it’s our third date.”

“Really? Thought it was our fifth.” He tried to joke, but when it didn’t seem to calm you any, he just shook his head and mumbled a small apology.

“And there’s… implications that go along with it.”

Derek tilted his head, looking at you similar to a confused dog. But when you didn’t clarify and instead only gave him a look, he understood what you meant.

“And you’re worried about that?”

“I mean, kind of. Yes. I just,” you sighed as you tried to piece your words together, cheeks flush with embarrassment about even having to have this conversation. You were an adult, but for some reason, telling your sort of boyfriend that you hadn’t had sex in a while still felt awkward. “I’m not really.. experienced, I guess. I’ve only been with a few people. And you-”

“Used to be a total manwhore?”

“I wasn’t going to say that. And I really wish Garcia hadn’t taught you that term.”

He laughed at that then, and his arm lifted off of your shoulder to trail down your arm, before he grabbed onto your hand.

“Look, I’m not expecting anything out of tonight, okay? I just wanted to spend time with you, I don’t care if I see you naked tonight. Or for a while. It doesn’t matter,” he started, and the seriousness on his face was almost odd, since you were used to his teasing grin. “If you’re not ready for it, I’m not ready for it. Just because it’s our third date doesn’t mean we’re required to have sex. And I wasn’t really thinking about that, anyway. I don’t want to do it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t want you to be disappointed because I’m not as good as you expected. Or what you’re used to,” You frowned, and it made him frown, almost like a mirror.

“Baby. Sweetheart. Honey. You seriously think I’m going to be disappointed? I used to wake up early every morning so I could get coffee from your favorite place just so I could have an excuse to bring you a cup and talk to you.”

“That’s forty minutes out of the way.”

“I know. I’m like, borderline obsessed with you. You should be creeped out.” When the corners of your lips turned up at that, he broke out into a grin, and leaned forward to grab your face into his hands, forcing you to look at him. “What I’m saying is, I could never be disappointed by anything you do. If we have sex, and only whenever you’re ready for it, it’s going to be great for me no matter what. ‘Cause it means that I’m with you.”

Your head leaned against the palm of his hand, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips, quick but loving.

“If you’re ever feeling stressed about these things, you need to just tell me. Don’t sulk, you shouldn’t be nervous about anything. Not with me. Got it?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly and his hands drop from his face, wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you to his side, your head falling onto his shoulder.

“Great. Now - which horror movie do you wanna watch? Halloween or Scream?”

[deanstead]

Oh oh oh, here is my prompt.

How about some angsty hurt reader, Morgan trying to fix her. Reader:"Why am I never enough?"

thanks for sending this in! the fact that the first submitted prompt was for Morgan when I've never shared anything I've written for him before lol.

===

"Why am I never enough?"

The words slipped past your lips almost uncontrollably and Derek's eyes flicked toward yours as he sat in front of you, dressing the gash on your head.

"This wasn't your fault," Derek spoke, his voice gentle.

You didn't answer him and Derek sighed, gently covering the gash with some gauze before he sat next to you, pulling you into his arms, more gently than usual, acutely aware you were probably hurting all over.

"We couldn't close half the cases we had if not for you," Derek said quietly, his lips pressed close to your ear.

You glanced up at him giving him a disbelieving look and he chuckled lightly. "Well, at least I couldn't."

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck and stopped talking, just letting yourself sink deeper into Derek's embrace.

send me an ask with a prompt or a first sentence of a fanfic and I’ll write the next five-ish

[chvoswxtch]

derek morgan masterlist

»— anything marked with an astrik contains explicit content. minors dni.

»— all work is my own. please do not repost anywhere else without my consent.

☾ series/multiparts

→ slumber party.* / let's play.* (derek morgan & aaron hotchner & spencer reid)

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

Safe

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Reader Prompt: “Hey, look at me. I'm not going anywhere” Word Count: 467

A/N: Prompt idea from @mrsh0tchner CM Discord Server

^

You've felt lonely, empty, numb. You've been just working non-stop for a few weeks, just to not feel anything and keep yourself distracted.

All these feelings had been bottling up waiting to be poured out.

Slowly, some of them were dripping, you were like a zombie and everyone seemed to notice this change but no one approached you to see if something was bothering you.

Maybe they were all as busy as you were to notice that lately you just weren't yourself

Maybe they had noticed but they were afraid of the outcome. It's not easy to handle someone whose feelings are all over the place.

Or maybe it was just your brain making up all those wrong scenarios just to make you feel bad about yourself and in reality, they were trying to help but you were too blind to notice.

You were too blind to notice the coffee cup that Derek left on your desk before you arrived.

You were too blind to notice the less paperwork JJ leaves on your desk and how big the pile of Reid and hers has grown.

You were too blind to notice when Hotch ordered you to leave early during paperwork days and not stress too much during cases.

You were too blind to notice the bags of homemade meals that Rossi leaves on your front door.

You were too blind to notice that everyone was making your life a little bit easier because they knew you were struggling.

It was a matter of time until everything you've bottled up exploded. And your coworkers were waiting for that to happen and they were ready to help you.

One night after a rough case, Emily drove you to your place, she insisted on staying with you but you refused, you assured her you were just going to shower and head to bed.

Your mind was numb, not registering what you were doing, until you accidentally cut yourself while chopping some fruit. At that moment, you panicked, and everything spiraled down.

When you realized, you were at Derek's house, knocking on his door.

"Hey baby girl" he said, but you collapsed in front of him, he was fast to catch you, and pulled inside his apartment.

He noticed the tight fist and some blood on the outside of your hand. He took you to his couch and held you while you cried out.

Once you calmed down, you realized your surroundings and felt embarrassed, "I'm sorry, Der, I should go." You said avoiding his gaze.

“Hey, look at me,” He said, caressing your cheek, "you can stay," he added. You sighed and started to cry again, but this time it was for how sweet and caring Derek was with you, "I'm not going anywhere” he said after kissing your forehead.

[whereireid]

˚ · . 𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐊 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍

request here ! ⭑ smut | ♡ fluff | ✄ angst

𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

⭑ — size differences. (coming soon)

synopsis... derek is just so much bigger than you, and he never lets you forget it.

[goorgeousz]

commando | emily prentiss underwear trilogy

commando | emily prentiss

underwear trilogy

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!bau!reader

summary: emily became a professional in guessing your underwear. but one time she missed it.

content/tw: mentions of alcohol, emily guesses reader’s underwear, reader goes commando, flirting, (if i missed any please lmk! )

word count: 1.2k

a/n: I hate this fucking name (underwear) but I can’t think of anything else. There will be a part three (if you want me to tag you when it’s out, lmk!), fear not my horny emily admirers <3

tag: @snoopyaah

dividers: @uzmacchiato

part one here

main masterlist

“Rough night?” you ask Emily, watching her rest her head on her hands, pressing her temples like it would magically make her brain come back to normal.

“Very.” she muttered, raising her eyes from the position to stare at you.

As always, her staring made you uneasy.

For the majority of your life, you were sure who you were. Your likes, your dislikes. About food, weather, clothes and people. It wasn’t like you labeled yourself, you didn’t. But you never actually questioned yourself. Ever.

Yes, you found women attractive. Yes, you’ve kissed one or two during college years. For fun. For science. But it wasn’t something you consciously thought about. You didn’t have a moment when you realized you liked women. 

You didn’t.

Right?

It wasn’t something you thought about. Like it was, somehow, out of your league. Something that your brain wasn’t capable of developing. You never thought ‘oh, I am straight’. You just also never thought you weren’t. 

And that wasn’t a problem. It never stopped you from sleeping at night. It was never a topic on your therapy sessions. You managed to get where you were (all the way up to the FBI) without thinking about it.

Your sexuality simply wasn’t a question for you.

Until Emily happened.

All it took was one heavy flirting and all your convictions shattered. One night at a bar she mentioned your underwear, and you lost it.

And then, you started to notice things. It’s not like you never noticed them, it’s just… different. For example, how the scent of her shampoo (coconut, because why not?) filled the entire room when she undid her ponytail, usually after a long stretch. How she always leaned back and wiggled her eyebrows proudly when she told a joke (usually a terrible one). How she pronounced your name, dragging the last syllable when she asked you a favor, sharp and pointed when she was annoyed, singing-songing it when she had something funny to say.

Emily was all up on you, being in presence (you were table partners) and in thought (you couldn’t get her out of your head).

“You want a refill?” you asked, pointed to the half-empty mug in front of her, the coffee in it probably cold.

“If I taste this cheap ass disgusting coffee I will throw up” she groaned, dropping her head down again. You chuckled. At the sound of it, she snapped her head up, her eyes slightly widened like she had an idea “Let's make a bet!”

“Let’s not.”

“Yes, let’s do it!” she disagreed, pushing herself up and smiling greedily. You rolled your eyes, because of course she would have it her way (you always let her) “If I guess your underwear correctly, you’ll get me a coffee from the cafeteria downtown.”

“Absolutely not! I just got here.”

“I’ll do all your paperwork if I guess wrong.” you eyed her suspiciously.

“Why don’t you ask Reid?”

“Ew. I can’t picture Reid in underwear. He’s like a sibling.”

“And I’m not?”

“Nope.” she answered with a ‘pop’, her stare warming you up inside. “I’ll do your paperwork for a week.”

“Fine.” you agreed, more to change the subject of her not seeing you as a sibling than the prize suggested.

She clapped her hands in delight, leaning back on her chair and watching you up and down.

“You’ll have to turn around.”

“Absolutely fucking not. That was not on the deal.” you pointed at her. She laughed, shrugging.

“Worth a try. Fine.” then resumed the staring. Just when you were close to calling the whole thing off (all the staring was actually doing a number on you), she started to speak “You blow dried your hair, and you’re wearing lip gloss. Which means you’re in a good mood.”

“Feeling pretty puts me in a good mood, oh you’re so good.” you snarked, sarcastically. She didn’t flinch, continuing her analysis.

“No, you woke up in a good mood. That’s why you’re all doll up. And you never wake up in a good mood, unless you’ve got eight hours of sleep.” she calculates a little more “You never manage to sleep eight hours when you’re in your period, so I can discard those comfy granny panties you own.” you roll your eyes.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Very.” she states, seriously “Alright, we’re almost there. You got here in time, so you had time to get yourself ready. You’re wearing a cotton candy colored bra, I can see the lace peeking out of your shirt.” you glance down horrified and close another button of your shirt, to which she just grins “You’re feeling yourself too much to not be using a matching set. So maybe a tong, cotton candy-colored and lace. Little pink bow on each side. Garcia gave it to you on your birthday. This earned me a cinnamon roll.” she pointed, giving you a cheeky grin.

“The fuck?” you whispered to yourself, getting your car keys and stomping outside. You sighed loudly as you heard Emily’s laughter in the background.

This started a tradition of some sorts. Everytime she wanted something (which usually included food, overpriced coffees and/or reports) from you, she made a bed. Somehow, she always got it right. And it never fails to make you blush furiously.

Which led you to another Saturday night, on your ‘monthly single-only exclusively night out’ (Garcia named it).

You, Emily, Garcia, Morgan and a not-very-excited-but-just-now-after-four-monthly-meetings-is-starting-to-get-used-to-it Spencer. The only singles in the team.

For some reason you and Emily got picked out to get the third round of drinks for the group, so now you were standing side by side on the balcony watching the bartender prepare five margaritas (to which Morgan was surprisingly excited for).

“If I guess your underwear right now, you owe me a shot.” she tried, already smirking.

You snorted, mimicking her smile before complying “Go on.” because there was no point in trying to stop it. You had just as much fun as she did, and right now the loud music and the previous two drinks did their job in keeping your worries far from your mind. So any thoughts of how you shouldn’t be feeling like that about your coworker just vanished, leaving you with nothing but her lingering eyes and how kissable her lips looked under that light.

“There’s no way you’re wearing lace under that dress.” she pointed out, making you laugh in agreement. That night you decided to go a little out of your way, choosing a backless skin-tight dark brown dress, its length stopping on your mid-tights. You felt good in it, and the ogling you kept getting from Emily did a poor job in humbling you.

“What else?” you encouraged her.

“You’re a freak for matching colors, so I’d say you’re wearing one of those invisible thongs. Probably the same color of your dress or something red-ish.” she decided, raising her eyebrows in expectation.

Your lips curled into a smug smirk, and Emily interpreted in a bad sign. “Oh oh.” she murmured.

Encouraged by nothing more than the alcohol-boldness and the desire stirring on the pit of your stomach from weeks of teasing, you leaned closer to her, speaking in a mix of teasing and amusement tone, your lips ghosting the shell of her ear.

“Oh, Em. I’m going commando.” 

[lillaberry]

Tell me im not the only one who thought of dr spencer reid

[luveline]

I would love to see Derek with a super confident sunshine gf but May be she gets super shy and flustered when he compliments her or makes a dirty joke and just like the first time it happens and Derek is so taken aback by her shyness bc he's used to her being chatty and confident

“Hi, Dr. Reid.” 

Derek knows it’s gonna be a good day when you come in already flirting. 

“Hi,” Spencer says. “Want a bagel?” 

“Thanks, handsome, but I already had breakfast.” Derek leans back in his chair to watch you, and you see his moving, turning your attention to him with an equally brilliant smile. “Hi, Agent Morgan.” 

“You can call me Derek, baby.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” you say lightly. You pull your pea coat tighter against yourself and give a breath. “Is it cold in here today, or is it just me?” 

“There’s a problem with the radiators,” Spencer says. “They sent out an email this morning to dress warmly. It’ll be fixed by tomorrow, apparently.” 

“Oh. I didn’t see. I don’t think I’m dressed for the cold,” you say, looking down at your short heels. “I would’ve worn sneakers like you, Spence.” 

“I brought some extra socks?” Spencer says. 

“Well, keep me a pair in case I need them?” you ask. 

“Sweetheart, if it’s warming up you need, you come straight to me,” Derek says, his tone warm as his promise, “I’ll find a way to keep you comfortable, that’s on my life, don’t waste your time with anybody else.” 

He doesn’t mean it to sound so heavily sexual, but he absolutely did mean for it to be an innuendo. Regardless, he isn’t expecting this —you look straight to Spencer like you want to check he’s heard it, and you fluster hard, fisting the strap of your purse where it’s snug over your shoulder, a small smile playing on your lips. 

“Okay,” you say shyly, nodding, looking at the space to the left of Derek’s shoulder. “Won’t waste my time.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve always been sweet like that, your sunny disposition drew him to you like a moth to a flame, and yet Derek can’t recall ever having made you fluster so quickly, and so visibly. 

Derek suspects he’d find neck hot under his hand with a flush if he touched it. laughs loudly, pen in his hands wagging up and down as he fights the urge to say anything else and prolong your agony.  

You give a soft laugh, flustered, embarrassed and breathless, tapping his ankle with your shoe. “That was a bit mean.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, sorry Spencer has to be here to see it, “I was kidding.” 

“I know!” You also give Spencer a sorry look.

Spencer, while sometimes slow to pick up subtle social cues, thankfully gets the idea and stands up from his chair. Derek follows suit, though he doesn’t scarper for the kitchen. 

“That caught me off guard,” you say, laughing again as he offers his arms to you. 

“What happened?” He tugs you forward. You tuck your arms behind his neck to kiss his jaw, the morning hello.

“You said it like you were bossing me around!” you defend yourself.

“And you liked that?” 

“Stop, stop,” you laugh. “I wasn’t expecting it. You never boss me around. You’re nicer than anybody gives you credit for.” 

“You think so?” he asks, still teasing, but also vaguely smug. To get to hug you in the office, arms on your waist, prettiest face ever made, Derek can’t help himself. “I really will keep you warm. I’ll get you a heater.” 

“You’re my heater.” 

“I’m hot-blooded.” 

You part ways with mutual reluctance. “You’re something, Derek.” 

He enjoys making you laugh, and the shy tilt of your head as you’d recovered, but he’s much happier when you’re bundled up at your desk with a hot cup of coffee and his promised space heater plugged in at your feet, chatting across the way to him about what you want to do this weekend if he doesn’t get called away. 

“Maybe we can buy a couple of DVD’s and you can warm me up all weekend,” you suggest, an attempt to pretend you aren’t bothered by his comment anymore, that it had been a momentary lapse in judgement. 

Derek’s content to give you anything you ask for. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” 

[ddejavvu]

can i request a derek fic where readers also in BAU and they’re married and everytime someone says “morgan” both her and derek turn around or show up and the teams figuring out how to differentiate the morgan’s and dereks just all smug like “yeah she’s MY wife”

i love you’re writing btw!!!🩷

"Morgan?" Penelope calls from the kitchen, "You're scheduled for a retake of your ID photo today at 12!"

The responses she gets are a, 'What?' from you, and a, 'What'd you say?' from your husband. You blink bewilderedly at him, and relish the way that his grin lights up the room between you, like a sunbeam shot into your chest.

"Oh, not you," Penelope huffs, peering over the open door of the fridge to glance between you two, "I meant the pretty one!"

"That doesn't narrow it down, babygirl," Derek raises an amused brow at her, drumming his pen on the wood surface of his desk, "You talking to me or my wife?"

"Your wife!" Penelope all but snaps, "Derek, your ego is so inflated."

"It's your fault," You tease Penelope, who withdraws from the fridge with a can of soda and a slightly guilty expression on her face, "I seem to remember you answering just about a thousand of his phone calls with, 'Ahoy there, sexy'."

"Stop," She pleads regretfully, cracking the tab on her soda can with more force than she needs to, "Don't- stop! I didn't know you two were- were hitched! -were canoodling! I never would have talked about his abs if I'd known he was taken."

"It's okay," You promise her, and you really mean it, because you know for all of their sex-crazed banter, they're friends to the highest degree, and Derek is faithful to you. "Penelope, if it weren't for you, he wouldn't know how to paint nails."

"It's true," Derek nods, grabbing your hand to showcase the baby blue color he'd applied for you just yesterday, "You're my personal trainer, P.G."

She surrenders with a sigh, and you're glad that she seems to not harbor any real guilt, because you'd hate for her to be burdened with it. She leans in to peer at your hand Derek has on display, and when she looks closely at your ring finger, her nose scrunches in a grimace.

"You got it on her cuticles, Derek," She chides, disapproval apparent in her tone that makes your chest shake in a gleeful laugh, "Have I taught you nothing?"

[alana-reid-2005]

i need some air-

[thedelusionalbitchgianna]

Emily: ARE YOU-

Morgan: Fucking.

Emily: KIDDING ME?! YOU-

Morgan: Fucking.

Emily: IDIOT!

Spencer: …What was that?

Morgan: Hotch banned Emily from swearing, so I’m helping her out.

[angellic4l]

in between the lines - d.m

in which; gf!reader and derek have a quiet morning in

content; fluffy drabble!! non bau! reader (shocker ik), they’re so in love, affectionate teasing, that’s literally it!

a/n; drabbles are so not me but i feel like this was good where it was. i hope you’re all well!! kisses!!

wc; 0.7k

Sunlight softly cascading through the skylights in your bedroom awakens you, eyelashes fluttering softly against the pillow - once, twice, thrice - and then your eyes are all the way open. Instantly, you find out that there’s an empty space in the bed next to you when your hand meets the plump mattress rather than rigid muscle. What you had expected to find was your boyfriend laying next to you, preferably with an arm draped over your waist, yet there was nothing - no one - there.

Confused and still slightly disoriented, you sit up in bed with one hand still resting in the empty space next to you while the other wipes the sleep dust from your eyes. As the fog starts to lift from around your brain, providing the clarity needed to think, you recall today is his day off and it only makes the confusion worse. Being called in to work was always a possibility, but he tends to wake you up every time to say goodbye.

It’s only when the smell of coffee and cinammon sneaks its way through the doorway and into your nose that everything clicks; Derek’s not gone, he’s simply just making breakfast. At this new revelation, a soft grin makes its way onto your face as you stretch in bed before swinging your legs around the side of it. Your boyfriend isn’t away, he’s here with you, and that’s more than enough to get you up.

When you enter the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon only grows stronger - you figure if this was a cartoon, you’d be following the scent’s trail with a dreamy look on your face. A soft sizzling sound reaches your ears and on the counter next to the stove top are all of the ingredients for french toast.

Wrapping your arms around Derek’s mid-section, you speak, voiced laced with the rasp that only comes with early mornings, “What a mighty good man.” The Salt-N-Pepa reference earns a hearty chuckle from said mighty good man as he takes your arms away from his torso and turns to face you instead. Arms snake around your waist and soft lips find your forehead, planting a small kiss there while simultaneously smelling your hair.

“Freak,” you tease, grinning wholeheartedly.

“Oh, that’s the thanks I get, huh?”

“Mhm, you left me all alone in bed.”

“To make you breakfast, dumbass.”

“Oh, and now you’re insulting me? Worst boyfriend ever.”

He wants to kiss you to prove you wrong or follow that up with an equally teasing remark, but he’s also hyper aware of the french toast in the skillet, and you both know it. Your knowing is represented with a smug smirk while his is demonstrated through the shake of his head before he turns around and resumes cooking.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Once breakfast has been made, the two of you sit on the couch in your living room, eating together in a calming silence. Songbirds can be heard ever so faintly through one of the open windows, almost a natural soundtrack - you like to think it’s for the pair of you. Especially on days like these. He has a day off and sure, you could go out on a date or head to the gym together, or renovate the new project he’s working on. Utilise the time rather than ‘waste’ it, but it’s the slow days you enjoy the most.

Since meeting Derek, your whole perception of love has changed. Rather than a big romantic gesture, or some amazing expensive date at an upscale restaurant, you’ve started to believe that true love lies in between the lines.

The simple silence that never asks nor wants to be filled by chatter. Legs intertwined with his on the couch. Breakfast that isn’t hurried with the burden of his work lingering in the background. Knowing you’ll both probably go and lay in bed for longer after this. Fleeting touches that somehow still manage to give you butterflies every time.

The soft noise of a fork clashing lightly against a plate draws you back from your reverie, head turning towards your boyfriend who’s just placed both of your dishes on the coffee table.

“Thank you, baby,” you murmur while leaning into his side, head nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“Mhm,” kiss, “anything for you, princess.”

“I love you,” kiss, “So much, baby.”

“I love you, too, gorgeous.”

[blackynsupremacy]

“HI, MS. PARKER!”

pairing: female!reader x female!bff x oldermale!character

inspo: friday (1995)

18+ vibes, so minors dni! contains: age gap, flirting, teasing, mention of a threesome, arousal, implied smut, swearing.

the neighbor: clark kent, steve rogers, thor odinson, logan howlett, derek morgan, dean winchester, erik killmonger, john winchester, bucky barnes or any character the reader has in mind!

taglist: @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn @afrowrites @rosiestalez @zombiehe4rt @sabrinasopposite @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu

the sun adores the illuminated skin of you and your best friend. it’s friday, ya’ll ain’t got work nor classes, so you decided it was a beautiful day to take a bike ride through the neighborhood. it’s a blazing temperature of eighty-seven, so of course you’re both scantily clad in black halters and denim cut offs with slides before you hit the block. as you peddle around the corner, you spot him. it was one of your neighbors that had a decade on your twenty-five year old selves, but who gave a damn when he’s this—fine and recently divorced. your eyes gawk at how each of his muscles flexes in that tight-ass white tank top while performing the most mundane tasks such as mowing the lawn or fixing his car. the stains of perspiration leave a glistening mess on areas of his skin such as his arms, chest, and neck. you and your friend give each other a smirk, a glint of mischief within your eyes. you simultaneously wave at the man and greet him in the “friendliest” tone as you have done in prior occasions.

“heeeey!” you both squeal and let a few giggles escape as if you were back in your high school days.

he stops what he’s doing and lifts his head up at the harmony of your voices. he wipes the sweat of his brow with the back of his hand as an amicable grin curves on his lips. he raises a bulging arm in the air, a baritone voice resonating to reciprocate the greeting.

“hey, ladies! how ya doin’?”

“we’re good!”

you turn your heads to secretly converse with each other as the raunchiest of thoughts run circles through your minds. your friend mutters under her breath on your behalves.

“we’d be better if you’d let us fuck.”

he peered at you both with a tantalizing gaze, an arched brow and a piqued smirk that thankfully, both of you couldn’t see. this was a weekly routine of this teasing and he played right along with ya’ll. he hadn’t really got any play since the divorce finalized because he was just trying to focus on himself, but how could he focus with these two pyt’s basically eye fucking him each time they pass by as their bodies bounced on their bikes? the aching sensation of his dick hardens as he couldn’t deny the fact that he was just as intrigued as you and your friend. he often battled with himself as to which one he would take first, but then again—why not both at the same time?

“i’m sorry, what’d you say, honey?” he feignedly inquired.

to say ya’ll were gagged was an understatement because there’s no way that man heard what your friend said. albeit it was true that both of you held a strong attraction to the older male, ya’ll weren’t gonna let him know that too quick.

you stammered to save your asses.

“uh—nothing! have a good one, sir!”

the heat of embarrassment rushed on your faces as you waved again and peddled off a few more blocks before retiring back to your home. after that encounter, you both needed a cold shower to cool off the area that needed it the most.

later that evening as you both were binging your favorite reality show, your phones pinged at the same time. you both picked them up to see you got a new message from an unknown number and they put you in a group chat: you, your friend, and the unknown person.

the message read:

you know i’ve heard you loud and clear earlier.

baffled, you read the message and you took it upon yourself to respond:

i’m sorry. who’s this and how’d you get our numbers?

don’t act so coy. you girls like to tease me every week on those bikes.

•••

it’s driving me fucking crazy.

it dawns on you both that this unknown person was…your neighbor.

“oh…” you started.

“…shit.” your friend finished your thought and she responds in the chat.

we didn’t mean to tease! we just wanted to say hi real quick because you looked so busy.

“and so damn fine.” you mutter, eyes not pulling from the screen awaiting the next response.

•••

let’s cut to the chase. it’s obvious you want to—have your way with me. i feel the same way, so if you stunning young ladies wanna know how a real man does it, swing by my place in the next 10 minutes. ;)

•••

you said you want to fuck, so let’s fuck.

you both stare at your phones then at each other not knowing that as you were reading each word your thighs instinctively clenched together to hold in the arousal that was erupting between your legs. as if you were speaking telepathically, you both deserved to relieve some tension with one of the finest men on your street. you kept your end of the bargain because within ten minutes you’re both standing in anticipation at his front door. you were getting a taste of your own medicine as his sculpted figure leaned against the frame. one of his forearms supporting his body while his other hand “tries” to grasp onto the cotton towel that was lowering at his navel. he skips the formalities by using his large, two fingers to beckon you both into the house and you both simply follow his command.

a ménage a toi—who knew that this was a way to spend a friday evening?

[moonstruckme]

i mean if you INSISTTTTT….can we see intern reader trying to be flirty back with spence. or like them hanging out/doing something together maybe outside of work, the rest of the team can be there or not idk i just love them and your writing so much hehehe

Thanks for your request angel <3

cw: football concussion statistics? idk not trying to piss off any diehard nfl fans. oh also american football being referred to simply as football because I'm also not trying to piss off the rest of the world, and lastly some borderline HR violations

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 1k words

“Alright, Jack!” Prentiss claps, before sticking her fingers into her mouth and letting loose a piercing whistle that makes both you and Garcia flinch in surprise. 

“Way to make the extra pass, kid!” Morgan shouts across the field. 

On the other side of the grass, Hotch nods like he seconds this, though his expression stays focussed and his eyes on his players. 

“He’s getting really good,” JJ says. 

Next to you, Garcia grimaces. “I wish he’d be good at something else.” 

“Beautiful,” Morgan chides, “don’t crush the kid’s dreams.” 

“He’s just a sweet summer child! There are, like, a crazy amount of concussions in football. I’m just looking out for him.” 

“In recent years, the NFL has reported a significant decline in concussions in professional football players,” says Spencer. 

Morgan makes a smug noise. “See? He’ll be alright.”

“But,” you raise your voice hesitantly, “wouldn’t the NFL have a bit of incentive to report that?” 

You’re looking at Spencer out of the corner of your eye. He meets your gaze, lips quirking. 

“Exactly,” he says. “That’s what I think, too. Independent studies have been less favorable.” 

Garcia mimics Morgan’s smug noise, victorious. Before she remembers to be worried and frowns again. 

Morgan laughs. “Hey, I didn’t sign him up. Jack likes football, you gonna tell him to quit?” 

Garcia comes back at him with some teasing remark, but you’re distracted by Spencer’s eyes still on yours. He’s looking at you like there’s something he can’t quite make sense of, which is happening so often lately it’s almost laughable. You have the most obvious crush in the world, and certifiable genius Spencer Reid can’t figure you out. 

You look away first. 

It’s sort of humiliating, how things have escalated between you in the last week. Every bit of that is your fault. You know it’s not professional, but you’ve spent lots of time thinking about it, and really a bit of flirting isn’t so bad if you know nothing is going to come of it. It’s harmless. Spencer is just so, so nice to you, you can’t help but want to be nice back; walking the line between friendly and something-else sort of comes with the territory. You would never actually endanger your position at the BAU. You only want Spencer to feel as special as he makes you feel. He deserves that. 

First it was bringing him breakfast after he helped you prepare your testimony. You wanted to thank him, so you picked up some breakfast tacos like he said he used to have back home in Las Vegas, and so what if you only know that because you’ve spent so much time chatting together? You’re training to be a profiler, remembering details is part of your job. Then you started complimenting him more, which was really just giving yourself permission to say your quiet thoughts out loud, making genuine observations about his taste in psychologists and the care he shows for witnesses even when the whole team is in a rush. And then maybe you began letting him teach you some things about chess even though you’ve never been interested in the game before, and bumping his knee gently under the table when he’s rambling without realizing everyone else has already moved on, and exchanging little smiles when you both look up from your desks at the same time. So what? None of that is a fireable offence. 

“I’m gonna go get water,” Spencer says, standing and starting to descend the metal bleachers. 

“Can you grab me one?” Prentiss asks. The rest of your team immediately chimes in with their requests, and you take a step down from the bleachers as well. 

“Want help?” you ask. 

Spencer seems to have been picturing the same thing you have: him coming back from the cooler in Garcia’s trunk with arms overflowing with plastic bottles, leaving a trail of them all the way back to the bleachers. He looks relieved. “Please.” 

You hop down, unable to look him in the eye when you take the hand he offers you for the last couple of steps. The sun is out in full force today, glinting off the metal of the bleachers and every car in the parking lot. The pavement radiates heat. 

Spencer hovers a hand above his eyes. “I wasn’t made for this.” 

“It’s a hot one,” you agree. 

“If Jack had a different hobby, we could be inside at a science fair right now. With air conditioning.” 

You chance a look at him. “Isn’t being involved in sports good for kids?” 

Spencer shrugs, though you’re sure he knows the answer. “I turned out okay.” 

Your lips tug. There’s no denying that. 

“Here.” You take off the baseball cap you’d put on for the game, holding it out for him as he pops open Garcia’s trunk. You pray to God the hat isn’t sweaty. 

Spencer only looks at it, surprised. “Oh, I—that’s okay. I’ll be fine.” 

“No, look.” You take a pair of sunglasses out of your bag, putting them on. “See? Now neither of us will have the sun in our eyes.” 

“Really?” Spencer asks, only taking the bill of the cap in hand once you nod. He settles it on his head like it’s his first time wearing one. “Thanks. Do I look stupid?” 

You shake your head, staring. “You look good,” you say. It comes out unchecked, before you can think about it. God, you’re so obvious. It’s true, though. Spencer’s still squinting a little even with the shade over his eyes, but it’s relaxed some; it reminds you of the way he looks when he’s puzzling something out. You’re hopelessly endeared by it. His hair, grown to what Garcia lovingly calls boy band length, wings out of the sides of the cap. Practically begging to be coiled around your index finger. 

“Thanks,” Spencer says again, the faintest tinge of pink—which can probably be attributed to the beginnings of a sunburn—kissing his cheeks. 

Bashfulness softens your voice. “No problem.” 

He opens the cooler, starting to scoop up waters and sports drinks (though one of the team moms is supplying drinks for the kids, Garcia had packed for you all like you’d be on the field too). Condensation drips down Spencer’s wrists. 

“Thanks for helping with this, too,” he says. 

“Pretty sure this is what interns are for,” you joke as you grab some too. 

“Always undermining yourself,” Spencer chides, something almost like teasing in his voice. It makes your stomach crowd with butterflies. “You know you’re more than that to us.”