#guess I'm on a morgan roll

[idk-bruh-20]

Fic appreciations #18

Living Proof

by ArwenKenobi

Another one that I somehow haven't posted about yet! There are so many!

This is an Endgame fix-it with a bucket full of grief and an absolute tsunami of eventual comfort.

After the battle, Peter is still reeling from the fact that Tony is gone when he learns that May is also gone. She died when the snap happened, but she wasn't directly snapped, so she isn't coming back.

In this story, the whole Ironfam was a lot closer pre-snap than we get to see in canon. Peter goes home with Pepper and Morgan, and they all grieve a lot, and it hurts a lot for a while.

But, all is not as it seems. My bestie Tony Stark is coming back.

Featuring:

Tony Gets To Be With His Fucking Children rights

Peter and Morgan = best siblings

Ironfam pre-snap was the bomb

Grief TM

Dread Pirate Fury

Tony was a paranoid bastard man and planned so many posthumous protocols

Evil grape soda

Domestic bliss

Word count: 64,660

[tinyluvs]

Spencer coming back from a case and all you want to do is smooch him but he keeps talking?

omg yes please 🥹🥹 tysm for the rq my love 🫶🏻

you hear him before you see him, greeting his neighbour in the hallway outside of his apartment, keys jangling quietly in his hand and before you can stop yourself, you're jumping over the back of his couch

"spence!" you gasp, full of excitement when the door swings open and he wanders in. you bound towards him, barely giving him a chance to drop his bag before you're jumping into his arms

he wraps an arm around you, the other smoothing over the underneath of your thigh, "hi honey," he sighs, happily, his eyes fluttering shut while you pepper kisses over his cheeks

"i've missed you,' you whisper as he kicks the door shut behind him. you hold his face in your hands, thumbs ghosting over his cheeks, the rest of your fingers tangling gently in his hair

he hums, in agreement but doesn't reply, letting you pull him in slowly, kissing him properly, his bottom lip pressing in between yours. gently he sets you down, his hands squeezing at your hips

pulling away, you immediately grab at his hand, dragging him towards the couch. he sits down first, like always, in the corner of the couch before he's tugging on your hand, pulling you down on top of him so you're sat in his lap

"you okay?" you ask, watching him roll his head back to lean against the back of the couch cushion. your fingers mess with the end of his tie, a habit you'd picked up since dating him

"much better now i'm with you," he smiles softly his fingers tracing down the dip in your spine. he looks so good, hair slightly messy, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, all you can do is stare at him

both of you sit in silence for a moment, just looking at each other, hands ghosting over any part of the others body that they come across. you can't take it anymore, he looks too good

you lean forwards, kissing him again though he doesn't expect it, a small gasp being muffled by your mouth on his. your hands slide up his body, resting on either side of his neck, holding him there.

spencer chuckles and in turn breaks the kiss when you pull away to frown at him, "you have missed me," he smiles wider, soft brown eyes gazing up at you like you're everything to him

"i have, very much" you pout slightly before smiling. you try to kiss him again but he moves, arm keeping you steady while he sits up properly.

"hey, want to hear what emily and morgan were talking about earlier?" he asks but clearly doesn't care for a reply, "so, get this"

it's cruel, the way you tune him out. you feel bad for it but your brain simply isn't working. you return to kissing at his cheek, slow spaced out kisses that have him smiling against you, you can't see it but you feel it under your lips

"and then," you cut him off with a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth before your moving across to his other cheek, "i think jj was there too?" he thinks

you groan, head lolling back, "spence, angel," you huff and he looks at you throughly confused, "shush a minute, please" you beg, not bothering to see him react before you're crowding into his space again

he kisses you back this time, fingers digging into your waist, pulling you towards him gently. you hum happily against him, letting your tongue swipe over his bottom lip

spencer had never really kissed a girl until he met you, not that you would've known with the way he's always kissed you like it's a skill he's had forever. you're practically melting into him, all of your weight pressed against his front

your teeth graze over his lip ever so slightly before you're pulling away, kissing over his jaw while you catch your breath. he tilts his head back, again, allowing you better access while you pull at his tie

"oh! guess what i saw while we were on the jet" he says, like you're not starting to nip at his neck

"spencer," you whine, pulling away from him again, he stares at you wide eyes, "you know i love you, right?" you ask, he nods, "then pease do not take this the wrong way,"

"okay?"

"if you do not shut up and just let me make out with you for a while," you say almost breathlessly, "i may explode"

his eyes widen further, "oh," he says simply and you roll your eyes, gripping at the collar of his shirt. in one swift movement you go from sitting up, in his lap, to him laying under you, "oh"

"oh indeed, now shush"

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

[ithebookhoarder]

(BAU Headcanons) If you fell asleep on them

A/N: So... guess who fell into another fandom? I blame everyone on here and their amazing fics for convincing me I need to give this show and wonderful cast a chance. I may have binged 13 seasons in like a month... oops? I'm also looking at my fav BAU bunch here but I'm open to writing for other characters from the show

Aaron Hotchner

Just like some of the other members of his team, Hotch has a hard exterior that very few people manage to crack through. 

If you and he are in a relationship then I can bet you’ve already had to chip away at it, so you’re already pretty intimate with one another. Falling asleep on him is nothing to bat an eyelid at. If anything, he would welcome the opportunity to relax and hold you close to him.  

It also gives him an excuse to steal a few moments of sleep himself, not daring to move and wake you from your rest. 

He loves holding you close, letting himself listen to the steady beating of you heart as it gently lulls him to become calm enough to shut his eyes. 

However, if you weren’t in a relationship or if it happened in front of the others at the BAU then you know he’d immediately react by saying something about ‘work place conduct’. 

However, he’s clearly saying it for the sake of it as he’d make no effort to wake you or remove you from him. 

In fact, he makes sure to stay still and let you rest peacefully, making sure your neck isn’t bent so you don’t wake up in pain. 

He’d also make sure to lay his jacket over the top of you, a clear sign that you are not to be disturbed - under pain of death. 

David Rossi 

Rossi would be the first to complain if you ever fell asleep on him but it’s all good natured. In fact, he only ever complains about it to you after you’ve woken up and only as a joke between the two of you.

“What am I? Just a pillow to you? Are you trying to say my cooking has made me plump?” 

It’s hard to resist his charming smile, especially when he actually is rather comfortable to lean on. His expensive shirts are always soft to the touch, and the cologne you’d brought him last Christmas lingers as you nestle in close. 

He always make you feel safe, and that is an honour greater than any he’d ever been awarded. 

If it happened in front of the others you know he’d roll his eyes and mutter about the cheek of it all. However, his smile would be enough to tell the others he didn’t mean it. 

“I started reading my manuscript and this is what happens… guess that’s one way to leave a review.” 

He’d be sure to shoot daggers with his eyes at anyone else nearby who looked like they would wake you up. 

He’d also shoot down any possible jokes being made at your expense, his parental nature coming out in full force. 

Derek Morgan

This boy would be so smug if you ever fell asleep on him. Like, if you imagine a Labrador’s tail wagging with one of those big dopey grins, then that’s what he is. 

He is keen to try and capture the moment with a picture, setting it as his phone background to prove to himself it really happened. 

If it happens in front of the rest of the team then you know he is going to keep reminding you and everyone else whenever he gets the chance. 

However, you know that for all the bragging and teasing Morgan is actually super touched by the fact you fell asleep on him and he is keen to offer you a place to lay your head whenever you look like you need to take a beat. 

He even has a blanket and pillow in his go-bag especially for you. 

“Only the best for you, hot stuff.” 

He will never complain about it and - considering how much torture and pain we know this man can endure - he is more than capable of handling any cramp or pins and needles he gets as a result of you lying against him. 

Eventually, he would take the opportunity to try and sleep as well. With his job and his manic lifestyle, if he gets the chance to close his eyes he knows better than to waste it. 

Emily Prentiss

She would be shocked at first, especially if it’s early-on in your relationship. She isn’t really used to public displays of affection and you sleeping with your head on her shoulder is pretty public. 

She would stay as still as possible, though, scared of disturbing you or ruining the moment. She’d also probably be panicking internally, unsure what she was supposed to do. 

However, she soon takes a breath and relaxes. After all, you look so cute when you’re asleep and she is honoured you feel comfortable enough to relax around her like this. 

She doesn’t often get the chance to just sit and be peaceful so she savours the moment you’ve given her. 

She’d end up watching you for a while before relaxing and trying to adjust you so that you’re both comfortable. 

She would also take the opportunity to be affectionate, loving that she can run her hands through your hair and kiss your head without any fear of being embarrassed or rejected. 

After all, we know Emily has a soft centre underneath her tough, bad-ass exterior. She just needs to know she is able to express it. 

JJ

JJ is such a mom to everyone including you, so is over the moon the first time you fall asleep on her. She welcomes it with open arms, happy to melt into the embrace. 

It doesn’t matter if you’ve been together long or not, or if you’re in public. Either way, it feels like a personal badge of honour to be trusted in such a way, whether or not you meant to do it. 

She has enough patience not to move a muscle in case she disturbs you and ruins the moment. She knows that if you fell asleep like this then you probably need the rest. 

JJ would totally form a blanket cocoon around you to keep you warm and toasty as you sleep, wrapping her arms around you and cradling you close.

She’d smile the whole time, pressing kisses to the crown of your head and gently murmuring in your ear whenever you seem to stir. 

“Ssssh, Sleepyhead. It’s ok. I got you. Go back to sleep, honey.”   

If it was just the two of you then she’d be sure to try and move you somewhere more comfortable after a while, like the sofa or your bed. 

However, if you were in public then she would turn into a full mama bear and threaten anyone who came close or tried to disturb you. She has that angry mom look down to a fine art and has made grown men wither with it.

Penelope Garcia 

This beautiful baby angel would be so delighted if you fell asleep against her that she’d probably wake you up by accident after squealing a little too loudly. 

“Oh, oh, sorry. Sorry! Go back to sleep. I’m staying as still as a statue, you precious angel, I promise. So you just close your eyes and let me hold you.”

She’d probably manage like five minutes before she moves again and wakes you up, but it was enough time for her to steal a few private photos to commemorate the moment. 

They will most definitely be the background on her computer the following morning, and possibly yours too.

She would also be sure to make sure she has a blanket and pillow stashed away for you if you ever felt like taking an impromptu nap again when you weren’t at home. 

If you worked at the BAU they’d be kept in her lair - or your private napping room, as she tells you. 

They’d also be brightly coloured and super soft, chosen specifically by Penelope to make you as comfortable and as happy as possible, even whilst at the government building. 

“Just so you know, I gave them a spritz with this gorgeous lavender mist spray to help you knock right out the moment your pretty head hits the pillow. So, sweet dreams honeybun.” 

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer is a precious boy and would be utterly baffled at first if he looked down and realised you had fallen asleep on him. 

He would be surprised he hadn’t noticed you drooping against him sooner, or that your breathing had slowed as you fell asleep. 

At first he thinks it must be a mistake, immediately trying to ease you off of him. After all, he wasn’t the most comfortable person to sleep on and people are far more likely to find his company irksome rather than soothing. 

However, after you start doing it more often he realises that isn’t the case. 

In fact, he feels rather proud that you’ve got the point in your relationship where you aren’t afraid to relax around him. 

He also learns how not to let it over-stimulate him. It takes some time to train his mind to not think about the possible pathogens that could be passing between you or the way your hair tickles his face. He’s also able to talk to you about positions to curl up in if you ever want to sleep against him again, that he feels more relaxed in. 

He’d also totally be happy to tell you all about whatever his latest hyper-fixation is, knowing the sound of his voice helps you settle better than any lullaby. 

Masterlist

[luveline]

we know that the criminal minds writers looooved hurting spencer but i would love to see bau!reader (bombshell!reader if you think it would fit) hurt and spencer losing his mind a little (ofc everything would end up being okay because we love fluff in this house 💗)! thank youuu <333

ty for requesting! ♡ fem, 1k

“Spencer, are you coming in?” 

The boy in question winces, the cellophane wrapped stems in his hand strangled by an anxious grip. Your voice is hoarse, quieter than usual, though that could be attributed to the thick wooden door between you both. He takes the door handle in his hand, readjusts his fingers, can't quite get himself to go in. 

“Spence,” you say, missing your usual cheer. “Please come in.” 

He opens the door slowly. It weighs a hundred pounds, each inch heavier than the last. 

You're propped up on the movable bed with a dinner table over your legs. Someone's brought you contraband, it seems, expensive soup from the fancy restaurant you like just outside of work. Next to it lies your phone, your chapstick, and a prescription bottle. The orange of it is too glaring to look at for long. 

“Nice to see you finally, heart-throb,” you say, sitting back, rolling your shoulders as you smile. “Where've you been?” 

Sapped by terror in the waiting room, mostly. “Sorry,” he says, offering no explanation. You deserve one, but he can't get the words out. “How are you feeling?” 

“Shot at.” 

“Is it bad?” 

Your eyes soften. “No. Wanna see it?” 

He does in an awful way. To alleviate his panic, sure, but to know what it did. To see what his stupidity resulted in. The unforgivable in stark scarring. 

You lift your shirt and shift your soft bralette up a touch to show him the wound and all its grim stitches. “It almost missed me. Guess I'm not as lucky as I think.” 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Not right now. They told me not to wear wire bras for a while, so you win some, you lose some.” You let your shirt fall back into place. He can see the indecision in your eyes. Not one for hiding like he wants to, you address the elephant in the room. “Now you've seen it's not so bad, can you look at me again?” 

“I'm looking at you.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

The thing is, Spencer doesn't, not really. Half the time you act like you're sharing a secret with him but he doesn't have a clue what you're talking about, and the intimacy is lost, and it's his fault. He's never been good or smooth or charismatic, he's never deserved your attention, and it's his fault you're here, hurting, his fault you'd been prone on the ground, his fault Morgan had to hold your side closed, his fault you almost died. 

“Spencer,” you murmur, “you know I don't blame you.” 

Of course he knows that. 

“You should,” he says tightly. He doesn't mean to get angry. 

“Well, I don't. So give me my flowers and sit down.” 

He bites the inside of his cheek. He's mad, but he gives you the flowers without any roughness, and you take them with a similarly thin thank you. 

Your reunion isn't going how either of you wants it to, it seems. 

Spencer sits in the chair next to your bed as you pick between the petals, admiring their colours, their softness. For a moment you're peaceful, but you close your eyes and press your nose gently to a small bud, and you ask, “Why are you acting like this?” Heartbroken. 

He could explain it in halves. You passed out in the back of the ambulance. Your surgery had unexpected complications. Hotch was so angry, and he still wasn't as mad at Spencer as Spencer was at himself. 

Seeing you hurt because of his mistake isn't a feeling he thinks he'll survive a second time.

“I don't get why you like me,” Spencer admits. “Not before, and especially not now. You should be pissed. This,” —he gestures to you quickly— “is my fault.” 

“It's not your fault, Spence.” 

“What would you call it?” 

You put your flowers down and stare at your lap. He's pushed you too far. Nice, he thinks to himself scathingly, to upset you in your sick bed, that's exactly what he should be doing to make it up to. Great going, Spencer. 

“Will you hold my hand?” you ask quietly. 

He hesitates, his heart skipping a beat like a missed step down the stairs. 

“Please? I just… this has been a lot. I'm not telling you to make you feel guilty, I swear, but it's been a lot. And so many times I wished someone was here. I wished you were here.” You turn your head away from him. “I thought you were mad at me. I'm still worried.” 

Spencer stands up. He feels every stretch of muscle as he does it. You raise your eyes to his, holding out your hands; you know him better than anyone else, he thinks. He overcompensates every time. 

“I'm sorry,” he says, crossing his arms behind your shoulders carefully. 

“I told you it's not your fault.” 

“For not being here to hold your hand.” 

Your hand curls in the front of his shirt. 

“M'not mad. Not even slightly. I mean, not at you…” He rubs your back with his thumb. “Why would I be mad at you?” 

“What was I supposed to think?” 

He presses his nose to your temple, eyes squeezed close in regret. “...You're right.” 

This is what he should've done the moment you woke up. Instead, he let his mind focus on detail, what flowers demarcates remorse, or if cellophane wrapping would be an imposition. Anything to forget how your hands shook as the adrenaline wore off. 

They're steady now as they wrap around his sides to rest at the small of his back. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, lips touching to your skin with each syllable, like fractions of kisses. 

“I missed you, handsome. Please– don't do that again.” 

He rubs your back. “I won't,” he promises. “I'll be here as long as you want me to be.” 

“Forever, then.” 

For once, your flirting doesn't make him blush. 

[inkdrinkerworld]

imagine it’s readers first day with the bau and she shows up in like a cute sweater vest and jeans and loafers and everyone’s like omg it’s mini Reid and they’re like embarrassed but also like umm he’s hot so like maybe it’s fine

you think you're overdressed.

your sweater vest is full of alternating pink and purple squares, a brown pair of corduroy pants and loafers that can be replaced with boots if you need to.

you walk into the bull pen and everyone stops short. their eyes all settle on you and you feel your anxiety peak.

the man sitting to your right, with his head cleanly shaven looks to the man in front of him - a man who's dressed similarly to you.

except where your glasses are a little more round, his are square and he has a tie on under his brown sweater vest.

"spence, you got a twin you're not telling us about?" the bald man asks and the man, 'spence' looks up at you.

"hey," he starts and then his cheeks and neck flush. "that's a nice sweater vest." he pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose before looking back at his desk.

"thanks," you say, smoothing a hand down your chest.

"morgan," a girl with black hair starts, "hi, i'm emily." she's pretty as she smiles you notice.

"hi emily." you say politely and then look at all three of them. "do any of you know where i can find agent hotchner?" you ask quietly and the bald manmsmiles.

"you're our new teammate," he deduces, you nod even if you're a little confused.

"i guess so," you shrug and he smiles. introducing himself as derek morgan.

"spencer will take you to hotch, you two can talk about colour cordination for tomorrow."

spencer rolls his eyes and flicks derek on his forehead as he passes him and gestures for you to follow him. "don't listen to derek, you look nice." his cheeks heat as he gives the compliment and you think he looks even cuter now.

the compliment burns your belly and you give spencer a smile. "thanks spencer, you look nice as well." his cheeks redden worse as he knocks on agent hotchner's door.

[pixiesfz]

on my knees begging for more jessie writing

all I can think of is a frat boy Jessie and I'm internally screaming at the thought of it oh my lord!

plot: Your UCLA volleyball team won the national title and are throwing a party to celebrate

warning: I'm not sure I guess we'll find out but nothing bad, I don't know anything about proper volleyball I played when I was like 11 at school, the club I wrote about is completely made up

You don't even remember hitting the floor after your spike, when you heard the bounce of its landing you knew you had won the championship for your team and they had run to you quickly with hugs and screams.

The arena was in cheers as you saw the opposite team look down at the floor in shame, some of them in tears.

The girls were still picking you up as you saw classmates from the stands walk to the court. Your best friend being one of them.

"Morgan!" you yell out as you get out of your team mates grasp, Morgan runs to you and crushes you in a hug "You did it y/n!" she squealed and you both jumped up and down.

"I did it!" you yelled back as your smile grew.

You did it.

You won the championship.

"Next is your turn" you teased your friend who was wearing her UCLA soccer girls team jumper "We better fucking hope" she joked as you both laughed.

Your captain walked to you both with a smile "You are a fucking gun y/n/n!" she yelled as she rubbed your head "throwing celebration party at Sarah's sorority you in?" she asked and you nodded.

"I think we deserve it" you laughed before she joined in and eventually walked in.

"You can finally meet the soccer girls" Morgan fussed as she grabbed your shoulders and rocked you side to side "I already know most of them Morgs" you laughed "Yeah but not the ones I want you to meet"

"And who's that?"

"Jessie"

You rolled your eyes at your friend "Stop trying to set me up with people" you laughed and she groaned "trust me you'll like Jessie, I promise"

You arrived at the party with Morgan as you got out of the car and looked down at your outfit you had a lace top on that pushed up your boobs and a denim skirt on, Morgan caught your stare and threw you one of your drinks

"You look hot" she encouraged "I know someone who would like it very much" she teased and you rolled your eyes.

"I know her reputation I'm not going to be just another girl she sleeps with," you told her "yeah but I know her personally you will get along trust me y/n" "I don't know what she looks like" you pointed out and she rolled her eyes "she's your type".

You had arrived a little bit late so the house was already packed with UCLA athletes, when you walked in someone yelled out "she's here!" and people clapped around you making you laugh.

"our little winner!" Your captain slurred out as she walked to you and hugged you. You laughed as Morgan smiled "I guess scoring the winning point has it's perks"

The party went on as you were either with Morgan or teammates but you had excused yourself to go to the toilet and when you came back you realized some of the girls from your team had left the space they were in before.

Now you were lost.

You looked around a little bit before a voice spoke up from behind you "who are you looking for?" You turned around quickly to see a girl with short slightly curly brunette hair, she had a drink in her hand and her other hand in her back pocket as she stepped up to you.

"My friends, I left for a little bit and now they're gone" you explained with a shrug of your shoulders, you saw how the girls eyes lingered around your face before coming to a realization "you're y/n" she said and you nodded "yeah you?" you asked

"I'm Jessie"

Morgan was right, she was 100% your type and now you found yourself blushing at the thought. "You're in the soccer team" you said and she nodded now walking closer to you to indulge into a conversation "yeah and your volleyball, congratulations by the way you were great" she complimented and you nodded "thanks did you go?"

"I don't usually go but my teammate said that there would be a very attractive girl playing" she smiled, turning to you and nodding her head back, you followed your eyes behind her to see a lingering Morgan who when you saw her looking ran away.

You would get her back for this.

You looked back at Jessie to see her closer to you and your heart sped up a little bit, you hadn't had enough drinks for this.

"Was your teammate right?" you asked with a smile as you took a sip of your drink "She never usually is but this time she was very right" Jessie said and you tried to ignore her looking you up and down as you blushed and looked away.

You needed to be more drunk.

"Wanna come to the kitchen and get a drink?" you asked "You've already got a drink" she pointed out with a laugh "A little more wont hurt" you smiled before walking off, Jessie quickly following you behind.

When you reached the kitchen you both laughed at the couple making out in the corner as you grabbed a bottle of vodka and looked through the mixers.

"You can make drinks?" Jessie asked as she leaned down on the table in front of you, her arms held together, you couldn't help but faulter at the sight.

It was fucking hot.

"During breaks, I work at a nearby club as a bartender," you said "Which one?" Jessie asked and you laughed "Uhm it's the little one near the end of Rosie Street it's called Incognito" you sheepishly answered as you grabbed a cocktail shaker "You work at Incognito" Jessie asked in shock as you laughed again

"You mean the club where they make all the girls wear the slutty little outfits" she dropped her mouth open "Hey they are not slutty" you defended but you saw Jessie's face and nodded "Okay they are a little slutty but it is good money"

"So just curious when's your next shift?" Jessie asked, lifting herself up and walking around the table next to you "Asking for a friend" she shrugged "Oh definitely" you smiled and shook up the drink you were making.

When you were done you poured the drinks and ignored Jessie's stare.

You didn't want to be another girl on her list but god she was making it so hard.

"Here you go" you said as you passed the drink to her "what is it?" she asked "A sex on the beach"

"Ask me to dinner first jeez," she said making you laugh "You have a nice smile," she said and you rolled your eyes playfully "Well if you stopped smirking I could say the same to you" you said and took a sip out of your drink.

Jessie's smirk grew before shining a great big smile like a second grader and moving close to your face "Like this?" she challenged and you laughed "Okay! Fleming" you pushed her away softly "You have a nice smile" you said and she reacted like she had won an award.

You found your blush never going away whilst you were talking and she never looked at any other girl when they walked by when you could see them obviously staring at her.

You were both sitting on a couch and talking about Jessie's up and coming game when chaos began "Cops!" someone yelled and Jessie grabbed your hand quickly.

You were both aspiring athletes, the last thing you both wanted was to be arrested and have it on your record. "C'mon over here" she whispered as you both turned a corner and found yourselves behind a bush near the sorority.

You both laughed as you saw the couple that were making out in the kitchen walk out with a police officer, turns out the girl was the leader of the sorority.

You and Jessie both lay on the floor and out of sight as she sighed and looked up to the stars "I haven't had this much fun at a party since forever" she revealed and you turned to her "Really?" you asked and she nodded "But I thought-" "That I slept around?" she asked and you looked down at yourself in embarrassment "don't feel bad everyone thinks that" she smiled and you thought that her smile was pretty.

"Why does everyone think that?" you ask and she rolled her eyes "my ex who was pretending to be straight whilst being secret with me told everyone I was" she shrugged "What a cunt" you breathed out before a silence came over you two.

"So you don't want to sleep with me?" You joked and Jessie laughed "Oh no I really want to but I wanna talk first" she smiled and you smiled too

"take me out to dinner first?" you suggested and Jessie nodded. When silence came again you popped your head up "cops are gone" you whispered and Jessie stood up "C'mon I'll walk you back to your dorm" she said and you took her hand.

You were walking down the street as Jessie piped up "Seriously though when is your next shift I wanna see you in that outfit"

"Jessie!"

[velvetm00light]

Temper Tantrums

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n has finally entered the dating scene after refusing to even look at another guy romantically in years. As she gossips with her coworkers at the BAU about her date, Spencer sees red. As the tension grows between Spencer and Y/n, she's finally fed up and confronts him.

Warnings: Cursing, coworkers, mutual pining, immature behavior, name calling.

A/N: Actually kind of proud of this one, I hope ya'll enjoy it as much as I hope you will :))

Y/N CAN FEEL THE jet humming beneath her boots, the hand she's rested her chin upon vibrating her skull so intensely she begins to wonder if she could get the adult equivalent of shaken baby syndrome from it.

Emily is settled in the seat next to her, immersed in a game of chess with Spencer on the opposite side of the chessboard. JJ sits across from y/n, and the both of them can't help but watch intently as pieces are moved and soft curses are exchanged. "I'm getting anxious just watching this," y/n whispers to JJ. JJ nods her wide-eyed approval, never moving her gaze from the restless hands attached to their coworkers.

As the intense game of chess seems to last for an eternity, JJ finally tears her gaze away from the game and speaks to the rest of the team, "I know I'm ready for drinks when we get back."

"As long as Rossi's buying, I'm in," Morgan chirps.

"I guess I'm buying," Rossi's playfully rolls his eyes, the smile tugging at his lips ratting out his amusement. If no one had mentioned getting drinks after departing the jet, Rossi would've offered to buy rounds just to get the team to go with him.

"Did I hear Rossi's buying?" Emily asks, her head finally rising from the chessboard for the first time since her and Spencer began playing games ago.

"Are you coming?" JJ asks y/n, her lips forming a pout.

"I can't, I have..plans," y/n smiles apologetically.

"Who could be more important than us?" Emily asks, her jaw slack, as if completely taken aback by her sudden plans and the fact that she hangs out with people other than them.

"If you must know, I'm going on a date."

Spencer's head snaps up from the game, his gaze burning a hole into y/n as she smiles shyly and wrings her hands in her lap.

"A date?" JJ gasps, "With who? Oh my god, you have to tell us everything!"

"I don't want to jinx it. This is the first date anyway, he could be a complete weirdo."

"Please tell us how it goes after!"

"I will."

"Oh my god, this is so exciting, y/n!" Emily exclaims.

"It's about time you got back out there," JJ agrees.

"It's just a date, guys. No need to get your panties in a twist just yet. This job isn't for the weak, especially when it comes to dating."

"Oh, we know." They both dramatically sigh.

Spencer has not ceased gawking at y/n since she announced she was going on a date, the game of chess before him completely forgotten. He only tears his eyes away from her when she looks towards him, her brows furrowing together in confusion.

"Have so much fun and be safe..."

"Believe me, I'm not that type of girl, don't look at me like my mother would," y/n laughs. The girls laugh along with her but the tension in the air is palpable to the rest of the occupants on the jet.

Luckily for the rest of the team, the jet lands with perfect timing. The girls send y/n off on her date, explaining to her over and over again about using protection, red flags to look out for on the first date, and a million other tidbits of information they felt necessary to indulge her in before she could be on her way.

Spencer is the last to leave the plane, purposely packing up his chess pieces and board slowly. When he finally steps onto the tarmac, he can't stop himself from searching for her. There's an ache in his heart as his gaze bores into the back of her head as she walks quickly to her car in the carpark, her steps light and excited.

He doesn't allow himself to wish that she was rushing to go on a date with him, instead.

Y/n pushes through the glass doors to the BAU bullpen with a smile plastered across her face. She plops down in her brown, leathery swivel chair at her desk which, unfortunately for Spencer at this moment, is directly across from his.

He watches her intently as she settles in her chair, placing her bag underneath her desk and getting comfortable enough to go over some case files. She barely even gets to open a file before JJ and Emily are rushing up to her desk. JJ sits herself on the side of y/n's desk and Emily pulls up an empty chair.

Spencer's grip on his pen turns his knuckles white, his pen almost ripping through his paper. He keeps his head down, attempting to seem uninterested in the conversation he knows they're about to have.

"How did it go?" JJ asks impatiently, resting her head in her hands, leaning closer as if that'll get the information out of y/n any faster.

"It was actually..really good. He was sweet."

"Aw, good! You totally deserve someone who's sweet. You don't strike me as the type to swoon over the bad boy."

Y/n chuckles, agreeing wholeheartedly. In theory, the bad guy seems nice, he's protective, he'll murder anyone who touches his girl, and danger is thrilling. But, y/n has known that she's too independent to deal with a guy's possessiveness and it would just piss her off. Plus, sometimes the guys who look like they wouldn't hurt a fly but would actually would murder someone just for looking at his girl wrong...even hotter.

"There's nothing better than a secretly protective man. The bad boy exterior is kind of..embarrassing," y/n whispers. The women's eyes simultaneously land on Morgan, walking down the stairs to his own desk.

Morgan pauses as he notices the stare of the 3 women in the bullpen. "What?"

All he gets is giggles as a response as they turn back to their conversation. "To be fair, the mysterious persona fits him," Emily says matter-of-factly.

JJ and y/n nod in agreement and continue to whisper to each other about y/n's date the previous night. Unable to listen to anymore explicit details, Spencer abruptly rises from his chair and storms into the kitchen to gather and distract himself from the rising rage coursing through his blood.

He rummages through the public cupboards, keeping himself busy enough to miss out on the rest of that stupid conversation. "Spence?" A soft voice calls out. He whips around, almost jumping out of his skin entirely. His temper already worn thin at all the thoughts jumbled in his head, the leash on himself becomes completely taut seeing y/n standing in the doorway, a worried look on her face.

"What?" Spencer snaps.

"I-I was just seeing if you were okay," she says softly. Spencer mentally chastises himself. He hates that he's taking his anger out on her when she's done nothing wrong. He's the one who's ignored and shoved down his feelings for her since he began to feel those butterflies in his stomach when she spoke to him.

"Thank you for checking up on me, but I'm fine," he deadpans. He makes no move to move out the door past her in fear he'll accidentally brush up against her skin and his restraint will snap completely.

"Are you sure?"

"I said I'm fine."

"I can tell you're not, I wouldn't be a very good profiler if I believed you. But I'm not going to push you. I just hope you're okay. If you ever need to talk, I'm here for you."

"Thanks," he grumbles. He turns his back on her, continuing to go through the cabinet in hopes she leaves. His immaturity made him lose his appetite, and when he peaks over his shoulder towards the doorway, he isn't sure why his heart aches to see it empty.

Several days pass by and y/n's irritation is full to the brim. Spencer avoids her at all costs - sitting on the opposite side of the jet on the way to their newest case, if the only seats open in the conference room are directly next to her, he stands on the opposite side of the room, and ignoring any and all questions, comments, or concerns she has tried to communicate to him.

The tension between them becomes a wire stretched to it's breaking point, threatening to snap if they're not careful. The hostility that seems to be growing between them is not missed by their coworkers.

Morgan and y/n are camped out in a dark unmarked car provided to them by the local police enforcement. They were assigned to keep watch at the unsub's preferred dumpsite to see if he returns to revisit his victims like he'd done previously.

She wonders if Hotch purposely stuck her on boring duty to try to relieve the strain in the air - she wouldn't doubt it. She's honestly feels grateful for a moments reprieve. Well, she was grateful, but that was until Morgan opened his mouth.

"What's going on between you and Reid?"

"What do you mean?"

"You honestly can't think I'm stupid. I feel like I have allergies because the air around you guys is so damn suffocatingly...angry."

"I have no idea what you're talking about Derek."

"Hey, if you don't want to talk about it, that's completely fine. I'm just worried about you, kid."

She sighs and rests her head back on the head rest. She allows herself a moment to regain her composure - her coworkers shouldn't be punished because of Spencer's childish behavior.

"Thank you, Derek. I appreciate you. I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"It's okay, I get it. The kid's been weird this entire case."

"Tell me about it."

"Is there a specific reason?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Fair enough, I guess."

Morgan shrugs and returns his attention back on the wooded forest in front of them. Y/n's mind chases itself in circles as she considers asking Morgan about it but she isn't sure if it would even make her feel any better. She racks her brain for an actual reason to justify the way he's been treating her but she can't. She sighs to herself, internally fighting the struggle between fighting for their friendship, or letting him ruin it.

Y/n keeps her eyes glued to the jet window, resting her head on the plane wall, unconsciously wringing her hands in frustration. "You only do that when you're nervous or angry," Emily whispers over the small table between them. Emily's eyes dart to Spencer, sitting at the tail end of the plane, exactly where y/n assumed he would be like a coward.

Y/n's eyes finally peel themselves away from the darkened night sky and are met with Emily's concerned expression. "Do what?" She asks lowly, too mentally and physically exhausted from tracking down a serial killer and dealing with the temper tantrums of a grown man turned toddler.

"Wring your hands like that."

"Oh," is all she can manage out. She looks down at her moving hands, immediately removing her hands from each other and sitting on them.

"I know you well enough to know that if you wanted to talk about it, you would have already so I won't ask. I just don't like seeing it consume you."

"Thank you, Em. I just-I'm pissed the fuck off."

"Why?"

"Spencer has been throwing tantrums since he stormed away from his desk right before we left for this case. I went to check on him and he snapped at me and completely shut me out, which fine whatever, I don't like to be pushed either. But he's done nothing but avoid me, ignore me, and just flat out pretend I don't exist this entire case and I'm at my breaking point."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"How am I supposed to do that? He couldn't even set his emotions aside for one second to hear my opinion on why the unsub was dumping where he was or why he chose the ritual of displaying them like that."

"Maybe you should just confront him, make him listen to you."

"If I thought it was that easy, I would've done it already."

"Do it after we get off the jet."

"He's going to take forever to make sure I'm half way to my car before he even thinks about exiting this damn jet."

"Just give it a try, you're just making excuses now, y/n. I'll give a heads up to the rest of the team to avoid the crossfire."

"Thank you, Em. I appreciate you," y/n sighs. She runs through the conversation in her head over and over, deconstructing and reconstructing her opening statement and the evidence she plans on bringing up to prove her point. She's sure as hell not going to deal with this for any longer and she's not going to let someone she thought was her friend drive her away from the job she loves and the people she cares about most.

The door to the jet whirs open and the rest of the team hauls out of the jet quickly. Y/n takes her time getting up from her seat, her heart beating rapidly as she takes the stairs down to the tarmac one by one. She decides to stand out of sight from his seat on the jet so she can hopefully catch him by surprise.

After a few minutes of clutching her jacket closed from the piercing wind, Spencer finally drags himself out of the jet. Once his feet hit the tarmac, she falls into step beside him. "We need to talk."

He whirls his head to where she's walking casually beside him, her gaze fixed on the expanding airstrip ahead. "There's nothing to talk about," Spencer retorts.

"You might not have anything to say, but that's fine. That means you can just listen to what I have to say," she demands, catching his arm, spinning him to face her. Fury is written all over her face and Spencer's heart starts to beat faster. He knows he deserves every ounce of fury and venom she's about to spit at him.

"Why are you acting like such a child towards me? You've done nothing but ignore, avoid, and act like I'm not even a person to you, let alone your friend, like I thought we were. I don't deserve to be treated the way you've been treating me, Spencer."

"I know you don't and I'm sorry. But that's why I've been angry."

"Why?"

"Because, I don't want to just be your friend. It's eating me from the inside out to continue to just be friends and hear you talk about this new guy and knowing that I'd never be man enough to tell you that I'm tired of just being friends but I never want to get in the way of your happiness so I just didn't think there was a point in saying anything now."

"What are you saying?"

"That I have loved you from the damn moment you risked your life in the Utah case 2 years ago. In that moment, I knew that losing you would tear my entire world apart."

"You absolutely fucking idiot!" Y/n cries out. Before Spencer can react, y/n takes him by the collar of his sweater and crashes her lips onto his with fiery passion. Their tongues dance in tandem together. They're both breathless and panting when they rise from their kiss, y/n's hand still gripped on his sweater. "I love you, too, you fucking bonehead."

[just-wrting]

Secret Admirer

Title: Secret Admirer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You've been trying to figure out who keeps leaving you little notes and gifts. Despite everyone else knowing, you keep denying the obvious answer.

Word Count: 1721

Master List

A/N: This will probably be the only thing I write for Reid. I'm not super into him but when the List Randomizer spat out secret admirer I weirdly thought of him. I plan on trying to write a bunch of different characters from a bunch of different fandoms. Just whoever pops into my head I guess. Two will probably be posted Friday.

You aren’t sure when you noticed it. Maybe it was the fact that your desk was always clean. Maybe it was the little extra things that started to appear. Slowly but surely, you realized you had someone who was leaving you gifts and notes. You had a secret admirer.

Despite your efforts, no one on the team would say anything. For several weeks, you pressed the issue with the other BAU members, yet no one cracked. In fact, you were teased about being unable to figure it out. How could a member of the BAU not figure out their mystery admirer?

“Come on Garcia! I know you know. You have to tell me,” you plead with the tech genius. “You’ve literally been avoiding me. I know you know.”

She lets out a squeak before running to the safety of her lair. Morgan is giving you a smirk and shaking his head. Despite your scowl, he chooses to tease you.

“Come on, (L/N), can’t you figure it out? Who could be this mystery man leaving you gifts and fancy letters?” He laughs as he pokes the latest gift, a small stuffed version of your favorite animal.

“Hey, leave my new son out of this. What did he ever do to you?” you grumble, pulling it closer to you. “I didn’t even realize someone remembered such a little detail.”

“Maybe that means it’s been a long time crush.”

At that moment, Reid sets his bag down and takes a seat at his desk. You think you see Morgan’s grin get wider, but it’s hard to tell given how wide his smile usually is. It’s a picture perfect smile.

“That’s a relatively cute stuffed animal. I’ve actually been reading up on that one recently if you’d like to know more,” he offers. “Only if you’re interested of course.”

Reid gives you his charming boyish smile. It goes well with demeanor and you can’t help but find it cute.

“As long as you’re willing to leave out the creepy facts. I don’t even remember telling anyone my favorite animal,” you say with a smile. “Who would remember such a little detail?”

Morgan chimes back in, “Maybe someone with a perfect memory. Like what the kid has.”

You sigh. “Reid seems to like highly intelligent women with PhDs. I may be smart, but I’m not smart enough.”

Before anyone can protest, Hotch calls you all to the conference room for a case. While you’re sure Reid is nice enough to help whoever has a crush on you, you doubt you’d be his type. Maybe Reid is the perfect person to question about the mystery man.

—-

“Reid, (L/N), you two stay here and look through the papers,” Hotch orders before leaving the precinct.

You frown. What’s the point of having you here? Reid can read faster than you can. It’s almost like you’re just here for moral support in case he gets tired.

“Well now I feel useless,” you groan. “What am I even supposed to do?”

Reid doesn’t look up as he speaks. “Maybe today you’re our mascot. After all, mascots are supposed to be cute.”

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Not all mascots are cute. Recognizable is definitely more important than cute. Besides, am I really that cute?

“I meant to say that compared to Morgan, you’re cute.” Reid buries his head further into the papers.

You ponder for a moment. “Well, you’ve got some charm. Morgan has the charm of he’s good with women so that’s why he gets hit on. Hotch is mature and a leader so that’s why women are into him. You’re cute though. You’ve got this soft sort of shyness that makes you adorable.”

You don’t catch Reid’s reply. His face is completely hidden behind various files. Maybe he’s just embarrassed, given that he’s always been a bit bad with taking compliments. That doesn’t stop you from thinking that it’s adorable.

“Speaking of your charms. I like the fact that you’ve got a good memory. You wouldn’t happen to know who’s got a crush on me, would you?”

He doesn’t look up. “I can pass along a message if you’d like.”

“Well then, I suppose you should tell this guy to ask me out. I can say for certain that if he’s this considerate, that he’s already got my interest.”

“I’ll do that,” he mumbles before handing you a file. “Take a look at this. I think I’ve found what we’ve been missing.”

—-

You peer into the lecture hall. It took some convincing, but you have successfully dragged J.J. to one of Lewis’ classes. You gesture vaguely into the room.

“See! That’s what normal Reid is. Dorky jokes, random facts, and the rambling on for ages is what makes him Reid. That’s not what he’s like around me anymore,” you hiss.

She makes a face and shakes her head. “So you have a different Reid? I don’t think he’s been replaced (L/N). Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.”

You scoff. “No I’m not. Reid just seems so nervous around me. Did I do something? He barely looks at me anymore.”

With a shrug, she leads you away. “Have you tried asking him?”

You toss your empty coffee cup in a trash can. Part of you wants to throw up your hands and be done. Why is everyone treating this like it’s normal? No one is giving you any answers.

“Of course I have J.J. It would be weirder if I hadn’t. He clearly knows something about this secret admirer of mine, but won’t tell.”

J.J. pats your arm comfortingly. “Maybe it’s because he’s your secret admirer. Perhaps you need to ask him out.”

“Yeah sure. I’ll ask him out once I have the evidence that he’s the person leaving me these gifts.”

J.J. raises her eyebrows as she drinks from her coffee. Her face says she has other thoughts, but she won’t press the matter further. Your gut tells you to trust her, but you’d rather not make a fool of yourself. Sure, she knows Reid better than you do, but Reid can be difficult to read.

—-

After reading the latest note, you search your desk for your stapler. You’ve been stapling the date and time to each note before tucking it in your desk. However, it’s missing.

You let out a groan. This isn’t the first time it’s been in the wrong spot, and you’re sick of it. You opt to beg Garcia to look at the camera footage to see who’s been using it.

“Hey Garcia? Can you please pull up the footage of my desk this morning? Someone’s been using my stapler, and today they stole it,” you grumble with a scowl. “Whoever took it is going to get some very strong words.”

As she speeds through the footage, you watch the people who got there before you. At first, you see Reid pause at your desk and fiddle with something. You note that he’s the only person in the office at the time, but after he pulls away, you see your stapler still on the desk.

The next person to stop at your desk is Morgan. He pulls your stapler off your desk and staples his paperwork together as he heads to Hotch’s office. He never sets it back on your desk.

“Garcia? Can you please get my stapler from that idiot?”

She laughs. “Has he been using your stapler this whole time? He said there wasn’t any more in the supply room.”

You shake your head. “You like him so much, you can retrieve my stolen goods from him.”

Garcia nods. “I’m on it. You can count on me.”

You leave her to her planning. You don’t comment on the fact that Reid had been at your desk. If you ask her about it, she’ll just  leave you alone to go get your stapler. This is enough evidence for you though. It’s time to confront Reid.

Thankfully, he’s made his way to the conference room to look for something. You sneak in behind him and stand between him and the door.

“So, what did you need from my desk this morning?”

You watch him jump and spin around. He looks shocked, but quickly covers it up.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, (L/N).”

You frown. “I found out my stapler was missing. Garcia showed me the footage and before it went missing, you were at my desk. What did you do?”

Reid opens and closes his mouth a few times. He doesn’t look at you. His hands keep fiddling with whatever he’s holding.

“Forget about it, I’m sure there was just some trash leftover that you cleaned up.”

He swallows hard. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to have to worry about it.”

You give him a smile. “Thanks. Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something else. The others seem to think I’m just talking myself out of it, but I think I can't put it off any longer.”

You make your way towards him, your smile still plastered on your face. You can tell he’s even more nervous now.

“Reid, are you my secret admirer?”

This time, Reid looks you in the eyes. You hear his breath hitch in his throat.

“What if I am?”

You’re a bit taken aback. Despite the determination you had walking into this, you aren’t sure what to say.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your voice is a whisper now. It feels like some sort of dream. It’s almost like if you talk too loud, this whole thing will shatter and you’ll be left in pieces.

“I didn’t think you’d like me back. Your type just didn’t seem to include me.”

Reid hesitantly pushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“You’re more my type than you realize.”

“Then do you want to get dinner tonight?”

Now you’re the one who's acting nervous. Your palms are sweaty. It’s more difficult to breathe. You can’t help but bite your lip.

“I’d like that. If you’re willing to get dinner with me.”

Reid leans down, and gives you a quick kiss. It barely lasts a second, but you can feel your skin heat up. When he pulls away, he stays close.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

[lanadelnegan]

One Night Stand

Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader

Request from anon: Can you do 2000s!Jeffery Dean Morgan x actress!reader who works on Grey's anatomy w/ him (she plays Izzie instead of Katherine Heigl) but she doesnt know it yet? Like they meet at a bar and end up flirting and having sex in his hotel and she stays the night and then in the morning she's like getting dressed and says "I have to go to work blah blah blah" and he's like "me too" and then a time skip to when she's on set and Jeffery is going around meeting people and she's just standing there in total shock?

Warnings: smut, NSFW, 18+, vaginal sex, single middle-aged JDM, semi-public oral sex (female receiving), this is HAWT - trust me.

"You look like shit." A deep voice chuckles from beside me.

I snap my eyes towards the asshole, almost choking on my drink in the process. Not sure if it's from his rudeness or his hotness, but I cough and play it off. "Excuse me?"

He laughs before ordering himself a drink. "Oh, and another for the lady here. Looks like she could use it."

My mouth drops open as he just.. grins at me. Who the hell does he think he is.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I ask annoyed.

"Not yet.. do you want to?" His wide grin stretches across his face, revealing his pearly white teeth. I study his face in the neon bar lights, noticing the shades of green swimming throughout his light brown orbs. This man is stunning.

I chug the drink he orders me seconds after the bartender sets it down. "Not really, but thanks for the drink."

He nods and sips his own drink, raising one of his thick brows at me. "Bad day?"

I sigh, trying to relax a little and accept his small talk. "Just tired."

"Then why are you here? There are beds upstairs, ya know?"

I glare at him. "I'm tired.. of other people. Tired of faking conversations I don't care to have."

He raises both of his brows this time and appears to look surprised by my forwardness. "Well excuse me darlin'. I'll shut the hell up then." He goes back to sipping his whiskey.

Out of all the things he's said so far, it's that sentence that finally puts a smile on my face. "Bout time." I tease and roll my eyes dramatically.

An awkward silence follows after we both laugh. I look over and his eyes meet mine, right before they slowly trail down to my lips. The playfulness in his features fades into a seductive gaze and fuck.. this is the kind of energy I've needed since I've been in this shitty town.

I've been filming for months now, only getting to visit home on the weekends. This hotel is basically my home and it's taken a toll on me for sure. At least at home I have my cats. Here I just have half empty wine bottles, my vibrator, and candy bars stashed in my nightstand to keep me company. I guess when I put it that way, it doesn't sound so bad.

"Are you staying here?" I blurt before I can stop myself. That was a stupid question. Why else would he be at this hotel's bar.

He blatantly ignores me, pulling out his phone while leaning his elbows against the bar and pretends to scroll.

"Um, okay." My lips clench together awkwardly as I nod my head and look in the other direction. "Good talk."

"Oh, forgive me darlin'. Can I talk now?" His veiny hand rests against his heart as he sarcastically grins at me. What a fucking smart ass.

"You know what, no. You can't. Never mind." I get up to leave, hoping he stops me.. and he does.

He turns in his bar stool and blocks me with his thigh as I try to walk past him. "What the hell are you doing?" I snap, walking around his leg. I don't realize he's behind me until I step on the elevator and turn around. I gasp a little, looking up at him. His face is serious now.. all the playfulness from earlier gone.

He backs away and leans against the wall of the elevator. The door is closed but I haven't even pressed the button to my floor yet. He crosses his arms and nods towards the buttons, urging me to press one.

"I'm not taking you to my room." I cross my arms, mimicking him.

"Okay, but I'm walking you there."

The seriousness on his face tells me I'm not going to win this one, so I hesitantly press the number 6 and the elevator starts to ascend as we stare at each other the entire way up.

When the door finally slides open, I start to leave but he gently grabs my wrist, turning me back around. Before I can fully face him, he leans down pressing his lips against mine softly. As soon as he pulls away, I pull his shirt towards me, silently granting him permission and begging for more. My back slams against the elevator wall as he kisses me hard this time. His large hands cup my face as I moan into his mouth. My hands reach for his back as his body presses firmly against me.

He tastes like whiskey and tobacco and smells like leather and musky cologne. It's euphoric. His lips are full and soft but the stubble hairs surrounding his mouth scratch at my sensitive skin. I let myself imagine what it would feel like between my legs.

As if he can hear my thoughts, he breaks away from our kiss, breathing heavily before dropping to his knees and wasting no time throwing my leg over his shoulder. My mouth gapes open as I look between him and the open elevator doors. Anyone could walk by right now and see us. My skirt bunches around my waist, giving him all the access he needs before slipping his fingers underneath my panties and pulling them to the side. I watch his face disappear between my legs and feel his warm tongue lick a stripe from my already dripping cunt to my clit. He moans from the taste and I moan at him moaning from the taste.

His tongue presses firmly against my clit repeatedly in an up down motion. He pulls back for a moment and without warning, slips his middle finger inside me, bumping it against my g-spot repeatedly while gently finding and sucking my clit again.

"Oh my god." I whisper down at him, feeling the pressure building up in me from his finger and tongue working in unison. He looks up at me like he can sense I'm about to explode, and grins against my pussy proudly. The sight alone sends me over the edge and I cum so hard that I think squirt a little in his mouth. He groans at the taste and buries his tongue deep in my hole like he needs more.

After a few moments of him lapping up all of my juices he can possible get, he stands up, lifting me in his arms in the process until my legs are wrapped around his waist. He smiles at me cockily while his facial hair glistens with my wetness.

He carries me down the hall and I point towards my room. I unlock it with my key card. Once it clicks, he kicks it open the rest of the way and quickly brings me inside, his lips never leaving mine in the process.

He lays me down on the bed but I keep my legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him down on top of me as he works on pulling my panties off with one hand and holding himself up with the other.

I arch my back, helping him slide them off.

Once I'm exposed completely to him, he leans back up, undoing his belt and throwing off his shirt, revealing his sweaty chest. He quickly pulls out his rock hard cock and I lean up on my elbows to get a better view.

His dick is just as pretty as he is.

He strokes it a couple times while he watches me watch him. My eyes grow wider at the sight of his precum leaking from the tip and he smiles down at himself. "Look at that, baby. Already got my dick leaking for you." He glides his thumb over the tip and I watch him in a trance, hoping I'm not visibly drooling.

"You ready for me, doll?" He asks as he leans back over me, bracing himself up with his hand. I nod as he kisses my lips and I still taste myself on his mouth. His hazel eyes look down into mine as he uses his other hand to guide himself towards my entrance. I feel the tip of him circle my opening before he slides in me agonizingly slow. He doesn't stop until his dick is pressing against my cervix almost painfully. I groan and wiggle a little, trying to adjust to him. He slides halfway out before thrusting his hips flush against me again, causing my mouth drops open as he reaches even deeper this time.

"That's a good fucking girl. Taking me so deep." His raspy voice praises me before his lips connect with the sensitive spot under my ear. He bites and licks at me while his stubble tickles me. I reach my hands around to hold onto his back and his thrusts grow steadier and faster. I scratch his back hard enough that I'm sure it's leaving marks, but it encourage him to fuck me harder so I don't stop.

"Mmm, fuck." I moan out. His hips slam into me faster and my face immediately burns with heat. My mouth drops open again but I can't form any sounds because he's completely taken my breath away. He stops kissing my neck to look at me again and smiles arrogantly when he sees my face and what he's doing to me.

"Goddamn, baby. This pussy feels so fucking good." His breathing is rapid and his forehead is sweaty as his grunts and moans fill the room. I can tell he's getting close and I am too. His hand reaches between us and he easily finds my clit like a pro, rubbing circles around it with his thumb and slamming into me so hard that I stars. My pussy clenches around him as I lose control, moaning loudly and arching my back at the overwhelming sensation. I cum around his cock so intensely that a tear rolls down my cheek.

"Oh fuuuck. Fuck." He says, quickly pulling out of me. He buries his head in my neck and groans, and I feel his warm seed squirt all over my lower tummy. He rolls off of me, grabbing some tissues to clean me up. "That pussy is straight from fucking heaven, baby." He chuckles as he wipes his cum from my stomach.

I get up to go pee and clean myself up and when I come back in the room, he's laying on his back.. asleep. The bedsheets are hanging halfway off, revealing his toned torso and dark chest hair. I watch his chest rise and fall slowly, taking a moment to notice every detail of the absolute sex god in my bed.. the permanent dimples embedded on each side of his mouth, the veins in his arms, the tattoos on his tan skin.

I frown to myself. Too bad this can't go anywhere. I'm way to busy in my career to settle down with someone.

I climb into bed, not bothering to wake him and fall asleep with my legs entangled with his.

The next morning:

"Hey! Wake up, I gotta go!" I yell, throwing a pillow at his face. "Seriously! GET. UP. I'm already late!" I finish tying my shoe as I yell impatiently at him. This isn’t the first time I’ve slept through my alarm and I hate being late.

He lazily rubs opens his eyes open before looking at me with that smirk. “Well good morning to you too, sunshine.”

I jerk the covers off him, noticing his erect cock standing against his flat stomach. My eyes cling to the sight of it and he bites his lip and raises his eyebrows suggestively at me as I stare at him.

“As much as I’d love to sit on that right now, I Have to go. Look, just see yourself out okay? Take a shower, whatever you need to do. Just make sure the door locks when you leave.” I grab my keys and my purse and head for the door before turning around again. “You’re not... some creep are you?”

He looks at me amused. “You’re asking me that after we already slept together?”

I stare at him and rolls his eyes, sighing when I don't answer him. “Does going through your panty drawer count?” He bites his lower lip teasingly.

“Yes! That counts!”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Guess I’m a creep then.” He winks at me and I glare at him as I turn around to leave once again.

“See ya later, y/n!” He yells.

I ignore him, still pressed for time and leave him to my room as I rush to the elevator. Poor guy thinks he’ll see me again. I should’ve told him I wasn’t interested in anything other than his dick.

The doors shut before me as the elevator descends.

Oh shit.

My eyes widen with realization.

“He said my name.” I whisper to myself.

I - I didn’t tell him my name. Oh my god, what if he is some creep that’s been stalking me. That would explain the weird interaction at the bar. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a fan try to stalk me. Sucks being famous sometimes. I breathe, calming myself down. Maybe.. I told him and forgot? I was tipsy last night. I could have said it. I tell myself to soothe my nerves. I think about what he could steal in my room and mentally punch myself for not kicking him out.

What if he eats all the candy bars in my nightstand. My eyes widen at the thought. That bastard.. he would.

I overthink the entire way to work, but finally relax when I get on set with my coworkers. Ellen and I have grown close over the years. She’s like the big sister I never had.

I sip my Starbucks and change into my pretend light blue scrubs while spilling the beans to her about last night. She leans forward on couch in our dressing room, fully invested in my story.

“Was he.. ya know?” She asks curiously.

“Big?” I blush and giggle with her. “Let’s just say.. it was soo thick. He was probably a good 8 inches in length too but the thickness was simply… chefs kiss."

I make the motion with my hand as we laugh together, fully dressed now and sitting in front of the mirror getting our light makeup done. Our stylists are used to our juicy gossip. They’ve learned to tune us out by now.

I grab my iced latte and Ellen and I leave the dressing room, going into the set where all our other costars and directors are. This is definitely the biggest acting job I’ve ever landed. So many of us are on set at one time.. at least 30 of us are spread throughout this room. Ellen and I stand back, waiting for the cameras to get set up. I scan over my script even though I’ve studied it a thousand times and can recite it in my sleep.

“Oooh, todays the day I get to meet my new looove interest. Denny Duquette.” I say to Ellen, putting emphasis on his name.

“I heard the guy they chose to play him is insanely hot.” Ellen winks at me playfully.

I scoff, eyes still scanning over my lines. “Can’t be as hot as my one night stand. I mean seriously... I can’t get his face outta my head. Or his dick.”

The room grows quiet and I snap my eyes up, worried everyone heard me. When I realize they aren’t looking at me, but past me, I turn my head around and the sight almost knocks the wind out of me. Mr. one night stand himself ... No fucking way.. He definitely heard everything we just said and I internally cringe at myself.

“Y’n, meet Jeffrey.. or Denny.. I should say.” Our director next to him introduces us. My coffee slips from my hand and splashes all over the floor in between us. Jeffrey - I guess that's his name - drops to the floor on one knee before I can reach down to grab my empty cup. He lingers down there longer than he should, looking up at me with the same smirk he had last night in the elevator when my leg was draped over his shoulder. I try my best to hide the weakness in my legs and redness in my cheeks at the sight of him below me.

"Lovely to meet you." He says, standing back up with my cup in his hand. He nods his head towards Ellen, politely greeting her as well.

"Thanks." I reach for the cup and my fingers brush his lightly as I take it from him.

He stands proudly, looking down at me smiling before the director pulls him away to meet the others. As they walk past us, Jeffrey leans down to me, his mouth close to my ear.

"I can still taste you." My eyes widen and his deep whisper sends a chill straight to my aching cunt that he destroyed last night.

He walks away and I'm left standing there.. speechless. Goosebumps appear all over my arms. Before I'm done processing, Ellen leans in, "That was him... wasn't it?"

I nod my head, unable to move an inch. The producers call for Denny and myself to begin the scene and my heart races.

Ellen giggles and whispers from beside me before walking off. "Well... this should be interesting."

The End.

Might make a part 2 because I REALLY enjoyed writing this one. Xoxo

[spider-man-199999]

Pacifier

pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader;

word count: 5K

warnings: drinking; mentions of sex ; Peter is younger than the reader, but still 18. Reader is around 20. Peter is trying to pin reader even though he is younger.

summary: In this one you’re hired as Morgan’s babysitter (and low-key underpaid Stark!assistant). Looking after a little girl isn’t too hard, but looking after her “big bother” as well, definitely is.

an: I might make a part 2; I had so much fun writing this!

part2!

A loud crash from outside the room interrupted the story you were reading to Morgan. She didn't seem bothered, probably used to this type of sounds around the Stark tower, but you definitely weren't. Afternoon naps weren't her favourite and she was almost asleep when someone decided to be so loud outside and interrupt. You sighed and got up. 

"I'll be back in a second." you told the little girl as you paced towards the door.

The crashing sounds were becoming more frequent, like someone was hitting walls, falling over on the floor, knocking things out. You didn't really know what to expect on the other side.

"Hey, asshole, I'm trying to put Morgan to sleep here." you said as you opened. 

You saw a figure fall over on the floor and start rolling immediately after that. A red and blue suit. There was something on his face, it looked like an octopus but not quite and it seemed like it was trying to eat his head. You were relatively new to all of this Avengers thing, you were hired a while ago but Tony kept you at a distance, however, you definitely knew an alien when you saw one.

"Actually, nevermind." you corrected yourself and walked back in Morgan's room, closing the door shut.

That's how you met Spider-man. 

"I could really use a hand here!" he said between pants and grunts, fighting the thing. 

You pressed your forehead against the door, thinking about it for a second. Morgan was fast asleep the second you walked away from her, which made the situation a little easier. 

"I don't get paid enough for this shit." you whispered to yourself and opened the door again, walking out into the hallway. 

You looked around, trying to find something that would be useful. Spider-man was still rolling around on the floor, pulling at that thing that was making weird squeaky sounds and spreading something like saliva everywhere. The closest thing to a weapon there was a vase with the length of your forearm that got knocked over in the process. You grabbed it and walked over to the rolling man on the floor. 

"Stay still." you told him.

He lay on his back, still pulling the thing away from his head as you slammed the vase into it, breaking it. The alien squealed in pain and for a second stopped trying to bite off Spider-man's head. He took advantage of that and threw it to the foor, shooting a web over it after that. He finally relaxed as the fight for his life was over, looking over at you. 

"Thanks." he muttered

"Yeah um, no problem I guess?"

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

"Hey, can you run to the lab, I forgot a black file folder there and I need it for my meeting that's in like 5 minutes." Tony said while checking his watch.  

You were playing with Morgan and her dolls in the living room when he walked in. He seemed in a hurry, fixing his tie. You looked around the room after he spoke, it was just the three of you.

"Me?"

"No, Morgan. Of course it's you, I'll play with her while you're gone. And skim over the papers, there should be 10 pages inside. You have 3 minutes."

You got up and moved as quickly as you could. On most days you were losing the idea of the whole babysitting thing. Often Tony would make you do things like you were his assistant, schedule meetings, arrange travels, send you off buying things. You didn't mind doing that, especially since he was paying you and you got to live rent free in the Stark tower with his family. You were free to attend your university classes, that was part of your contract, but besides that you didn't get any other off hours. A contract that Tony made you rewrite yourself after you got accepted into ESU to fit both of your needs legally. You couldn't really complain though. The job came with more perks than anyone could ever want. Plus, you got to know all of the Avengers and people that talked to you in class were always excited to talk to you because of that. 

You read through the pages in the folder on your way back to the living room. All 10 of them were there and they were about some new materials and research for the Spider-man suit Tony had been making. 

Oh, Spider-man.

After your first encounter with him, things got kind of awkward whenever he came by. He was a nice kid, a little nerdy, but would never pass up an opportunity to flirt with you. It's not like you hated the attention but your life was already too busy to think about boys. 

"Heyyyyyy" you heard when you walked into the living room, looking up to see Peter smile. He was blushing while he looked at you. 

You closed the folder and handed it to Tony while you held the awkwards eye contact with the younger boy. 

"You should review the third page, it's not clarified where the electrum that you're using came from. If it's a naturally occurring alloy or a man-made one. The origin may not be important when you're actually using it, but for the lawyers it is."

"Oh, right, thanks kid." Tony said, taking out a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket so he could write down the missing information. 

You walked over to the kitchen, grabbing yourself a bottle of water. Peter tailed after you like a puppy. 

"Can you pass me a bottle as well?" 

You grabbed one and tossed it in his direction. The two of you took a sip at the same time. 

"So how was school?" you asked him

"Fine, the usual. We had a quiz in physics, I think I did well. How was uni?"

You shrugged at his question, looking over at Morgan. You could see her sitting on the floor and watching something on the TV through the door. Pepper was about to be home any minute now, which meant you were off duty for the night. 

"Shouldn't you be joining the meeting?"

"No, mr Stark thinks the only thing I'll be good at is distract people there."

"He has a point."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I had to skip this week. Tony flew over to Germany with Pepper, I had to run things around here."

"There goes being a responsible student."

You rolled your eyes at him. University classes were nothing like school, you could afford missing them as long as you could catch up on the material on your own after that. Peter was so actively trying to close the gap between the two of you that it was getting annoying. 

"It's fine, next week The Vacation starts. I'll be free for 14 whole days to knock myself out with classes."

"The vacation?" Peter asked, following your steps when you went down the hall, headed to your room.

The Vacation was a tradition that you imposed on the Stark family as "a good habit to establish closeness between them and trust in you". It was an event that occurred for an entirety of two weeks every year since you started working for them. It was the second time they were going to do it and you were more than thrilled that your plan worked. The whole point of it was to bring the family closer together. You would pick the destination, make reservations in a very expensive hotel on a far off island and send all of the Starks there to bond. There were few rules, mostly ideas that you collectively brainstormed. They were not allowed to use phones, the only exceptions that could be made were if 1) the world was ending; 2) aliens were invading earth; 3) someone died. And in those cases, you had to call the hotel and make the staff inform Tony. The only downside was that you didn't get to go. But that wasn't all bad, you had 2 weeks to go to all the college parties your heart desired and do all the things you usually didn't have time to. 

"Yeah, we get two weeks off."

"We?"

"The Starks, I meant. They are the ones who get to go on a trip and relax for 14 days while we keep things running around here."

"Does not sound like something Mr. Stark would do."

"You're right, he hated it at first but after he came back it was... He was very different."

The two of you had reached your bedroom at that point, standing in front of the door.

"So you'll be gone for two weeks?"

"Unfortunately, no, but I already have plans."

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

"Wait what do you mean he's staying here?" you asked, looking around the table. 

Tony said he wanted a big dinner before they left for Santorini, and that somehow translated to your regular once a month "family" dinners with Peter. You looked over at the flustered boy, throwing mental daggers at him while Tony spoke. 

"I took a chance last year, but no I don't really like the idea of you being alone here for an entire two weeks."

"Is this because I did something to lose your trust or do you just think I'm defenseless?"

"I don't think you're ENTIRELY defenseless. But it does feel more comfortable to have someone with, say, super strength around, just in case."

"In case of what? Me wanting to rearrange the entire house? Just a reminder that if I didn't help him three months ago, his head would be in some octopus' belly right now."

"You're exaggerating that!" Peter whined, embarrassed by the reference.

"Look, kid, I know you well enough to understand how irritating this must be for you, and a year ago I probably didn't care enough if you died while we were gone-"

"TONY!" Pepper tried to cut him off.

"-but as I was about to say, now I do. That's my decision and it's final."

You really wanted to continue the argument, to try and persuade him into changing his mind. But you didn't. His words touched you and you could really see where he was coming from. But Peter... out of all the Avengers out there, all of the 8 thousand mutants in New York, he had to choose Spider-man.

"I promise you won't even know I'm here!" Peter said, in a desperate attempt to appease you. 

"Peter, it's alright." 

Your reaction had taken everyone a back, they expected you to fight back more fiercely than this. 

"What?" you asked when you noticed everyone's stare. "Did you really expect me to throw a tantrum over this? Wow, maybe I should come with you after all, apparently you people don't know me at all."

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

The first couple of days were actually going according to your plans. You wanted to go to some parties and you were doing just that. You stumbled out of the elevator, giggling to yourself. A spider web shot your hand to the wall. Normal you would immediately start asking what the fuck was happening, but drunk you just looked at the web and started laughing her ass off. 

"Oh my god I'm so sorry!" Peter ran towards you, pulling at the web on your hand. You kept on laughing. He actually thought you were someone who was trying to break in.

"I'm lucky you shoot webs and not bullets!"

"Well, webs aren't the only thing I can shoot." he muttered under his breath. 

"Ew, Pete, nasty." you giggled, placing your hands on his shoulders. "I'm so glad you have super-strength. I can't walk."

"What?"

"Take me to my bedroom, please." you laughed, your knees feeling wobbly because of the alcohol. He felt you start to relax and wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you tightly. 

"Damn, so Mr. Stark was right, you needed someone around to take care of you." He said, a blushing mess while he picked you up like a bride and started walking towards your room. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your head rested on his shoulder. 

"Pffff, no, I'm the caretaker!! I'm taking care of you too right now!" you protested. 

"Sure you are." he laughed, loving that side of you. He wished your normal conversations could be this effortless and fun. Peter hated the front you were always putting on in front of everybody, especially him. He opened the door to your room, walking in and placing you down on the bed. He looked at you laying on the bed, wondering if he should take advantage of your bubbliness or not. 

Your hands moved down to your jeans, you were drunk, but there was no way in hell you were going to sleep in your clothes. You undid them and started pulling them down your legs. 

"Wow, wow, wow, though we were at least going on a date before this." you heard Peter say, noticing him in the room just now. 

You gasped in shock, starting to laugh after that. He turned his back not to look while you undressed, wondering if he should just leave or not. 

"Hey, I was meaning to ask..."

"Shhhhh, you talk way more than you usually do in my dreams, I'm trying to sleep."

"In your dreams?" he asked, turning his head so fast he almost snapped his neck. You were laying down in your underwear, back turned to him. 

"Yeah, like now, you're almost always in my dreams, but we never talk."

"What do we do then?"

You rolled over on your back, head turning towards him to look in his eyes. Even in the pitch darkness he could feel your eyes burning the skin on his face and it made him blush even more. 

"You know what we do, you're always there!" you said, annoyance in your tone. 

That's when he knew he had to draw the line and walk out of the room, it felt wrong to take advantage of your state and he knew you would kill him the next day if you remembered anything. 

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

Peter Parker was a lucky bastard. Not only did he get to be alone in the same house as his crush for two whole weeks, but somehow he even managed to convince her to go to Flash's party with him. Yes, you were very displeased with that fact, tried everything in your power to convince him it was a bad idea but he didn't listen. 

"How is this not embarrassing for the both of us?" you asked on the way there. 

"Why would it be embarrassing?"

"For starters, you're going to a party with your babysitter. And I'm a college student attending a highschool party... What's next? You blackmail me into being your date to prom?"

"You're not my babysitter, I'm yours."

"No you're not."

"How am I not? Mr. Stark made me stay over in his house so you wouldn't be alone! I'm the babysitter!"

"Peter you're like 15, you can't be the babysitter when you're the actual baby!"

"I'm 18."

"Wait you are? Why am I driving then?"

Despite the hard time you were giving him almost the entire time, he convinced you. And now he got to watch you while you chatted with his best friend, holding a cup of punch. 

"How do you even know a girl like that, Penis Parker?" Flash asked him, both of them standing side by side while observing you.

"Well, you know, the Stark internship and all."

"Honestly, I thought she was imaginary. She's not a paid actress, right?"

"Yeah, well no, if I paid her she'd have to be nice to me."

You glanced over to the two of them, smiling lightly when you caught them staring. You've been getting stares the whole night, and it really did feel like you were back in high school. The two boys got flustered when you caught them, turning their heads in opposite directions. You shook your head.

"It was lovely talking to you, Ned. But I have a fanclub to tend to, see you around." you said, placing your hand on Ned's shoulder as a goodbye gesture and walked off to Peter and Flash. 

"Ah, if it isn't my favourite senior!" you said with a giggle, standing next to Peter. The alcohol seemed to be kicking in because you were unexpectedly nice to him. 

"I'm Flash, the host." Flash said and reached out a hand to you. 

You looked at him. You didn't know too much about Flash, only that he didn't like Peter and was giving him a hard time. That was one of the reasons why you agreed to this, to help the poor boy out, stop the bullying for a little while. You blinked a few times, not taking his hand.

"Y\n." you said simply, turning to Peter again. You placed your free hand on his shoulder, scooting over to him so you could get on your tip-toes and whisper into his ear. "So that's the mighty Flash guy? Looks like a loser to me." 

Peter laughed softly at your words, placing a hand on your waist to help you keep your balance. 

"So, how do you like the party guys?" Flash tried to bounce back.

The two of you looked at him. He stared back at you, noticing Peter's hand on your waist that you didn't seem to mind at all. Flash was really feeling like the loser tonight. The guy he constantly bullied came to his party with a college girl. And not just any college girl, one that worked for Stark Industries, and was drop-dead gorgeous on top of it all. And she had Peter Parker's arm wrapped around her.

"For a high school party... it's okay." you said, resting your head on Peter's shoulder. 

"Well I throw the best parties! Peter wouldn't know, he's rarely invited."

"Peter's seen way better parties than this one, I take him to the ones we throw on campus all the time, right Pete?" You lied. You were lying to defend Peter and make him look cooler. 

He nodded to your words. You could practically see Flash's face turn red as he was showed up, once again.

"Whatever." He muttered and walked away.

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

The more time you spent with Peter, the harder it got to dislike him. It's not like you really disliked him to begin with, but it annoyed you how absurdly confident he was in the Spider-man suit. He tried flirting as Peter Parker as well, sure, but nothing could compare to Spider-man. And for some reason you hated the fact that he was younger than you. There was nothing morally wrong with liking him, he was 18 and you were just two years older, in perspective this would not matter at all once he got in college, which was about to happen in a few months anyway. Something about the thought of having a high school boyfriend while you were halfway done with your degree really made you cringe. 

But you had to give him credit for trying so hard. The boy just wouldn't give up, no matter how brutal you were every time he tried something. This whole internal conflict of yours was tearing you apart, and it got worse since he moved in for the two weeks. 

"Okay listen." you started as you parked your car in the campus parking lot. "Do not go disappearing on me. And don't drink, not even a sip, you're too young for that. If the police come, run."

"And I thought you were going to have a positive influence on me."

"We're doing this because of you, remember? You were the one who wanted to make Flash shut up by posting a picture from an actual frat party."

"You were the one who lied about that."

"Well, I'm sorry that I was trying to help." 

You got out of the car and locked it after Peter followed. You knew in your heart that this was a very, very bad idea. You were just praying that you wouldn't get drunk enough to do something you'd regret and that he wouldn't get drunk at all. Someone had to drive the two of you back home and it definitely wasn't going to be you. You handed him the car keys before you started walking to the frat house. He put them in his jean pocket, following you like he usually did. Frat parties were nothing like the one Flash threw a few days ago, things here always got out of control. People were taking body shots, smoking, using drugs, making out. The whole "please don't break anything, it's my parents' house" vibe was not there. You knew it, Peter definitely knew it as well. 

"Let's get the pictures and be done with this." you told him over the loud music. 

He nodded, unsure if he actually wanted to stay or leave. He was not a party guy, but he didn't completely hate the experience. You grabbed yourself a drink, greeting a few people you knew from classes. 

"I cannot believe this!" Someone shouted behind you, making you and Peter both turn in sync. It was Lidia, a girl you had a group project with a few weeks back. You texted here and there but you could never make it to places she invited you. 

"Oh hey" you said, hugging the strawberry blonde and smiling. 

"How did you manage to get out of that corporate job you have? And who is this eye candy?" you smiled at Peter, offering her hand to introduce herself. 

"That's Peter Parker, he's my...." you stopped, looking over at him. You started the sentence with the wrong words but it was too late to switch it up.

"Boyfriend." He just had to jump at the opportunity, didn't he?

"He definitely wishes he was." you snapped back at him, looking over at Lidia again. "He's an intern."

"Come on babe, you don't have to be shy about it." 

He was pushing his limits here and enjoying it, smiling at how embarrassed and flustered you'd get trying to deny it. It really made it seem like you were just uncomfortable labeling something you really did have with him and he was taking initiative. 

"Such a shame, if I had locked up a snack like that I would be bragging to the whole world!" Linda said, laughing at your reaction together with Peter. She pulled him closer, whispering in his ear. "I'm not surprised by her act, she doesn't like sharing anything about herself, you have a tough nut to crack."

Lidia left the two of you with an encouraging smile, like you really had something to do with him.

"Traitor." you told him, drinking the entire content of your cup in one breath.

"Wow, take it easy, I'm not carrying you around like last time."

"I'm so mad at you! Why did you say that?"

"Why not? It's not like she'll see me ever again, tell her we broke up next time she asks."

"It was straight up unnecessary!"

He put his hands on your shoulders, lowering himself down on your eye level. 

"You're making a scene right now. Relax, I did it so girls wouldn't flirt with me."

You gave him the death glare that he was so used to seeing.

"Like anyone would flirt with you!"

"Yes, your friend did, the second she saw me."

He was right, she did start her introduction with a flirt, which annoyed you slightly, but it wasn't something you wouldn't get over. 

"Don't try anything with me." you told him. You knew how you got when you were drunk and you'd feel bad if he took advantage of that.

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

"Pete?" you knocked on a bedroom door upstairs. No answer. 

You got absolutely hammered after your argument with Peter. He spent the night running after you like a bodyguard because you would wander off somewhere without even saying a word. You did it again, after he told you to stay put so he could go to the bathroom. He said he'd be back in 5 minutes. He was back in 3, but you were gone. Since you had no perception of time while you were drunk, you thought he was gone for more than half an hour and started looking for him. So, the two of you were basically looking for each other at a frat party. You went upstairs, walking in on two or three couples making out or even having sex while looking for him. He, on the other hand, was searching downstairs. He found Lidia and asked her for help, to which she agreed. 

After not having any luck upstairs, you headed straight out of the house before any of them could catch a glimpse of you. Peter tried calling but your phone, along with the car keys, were in his pocket. 

"I'm really starting to get freaked out here." He told Linda as they walked up the stairs together. 

"Look, if we find her here, I'm sorry. If we don't, I'll start to worry as well."

They didn't find you in any of the frat bedrooms which was both good and bad news at the same time. 

"Is there any chance she could have gone home?"

"No, I'm the one driving back. Unless she took a cab, but I doubt that, her phone is here as well."

They walked out of the house, Peter sat on the stairs and pulled at his hair nervously. How did you manage to disappear into thin air in 3 minutes? He was the one supposed to look after you. Lidia sat down next to him, placing her hand on his back and running it up and down for comfort. She leaned closer to him, her body pressing to the side of his. Peter turned his head to look at her but they were interrupted by a familiar fit of laughter. Peter stood up, looking in the direction of the sound when he saw you down the street. One of your arms was holding onto a lampost while you were swinging around it in circles and laughing. 

"Thank god." he said in relief, offering a hand to Lidia. "I present to you, drunk Y\N. One of the funniest people you'll ever meet."

The two of them paced towards you.

"PETEY!" you said, letting go of the lamp. You were dizzy from the spinning and the alcohol but made a few wobbly steps in his direction, so he could catch you just before you fell. You looked up to him and cupped his cheeks with your palms, squishing his face. 

''Here's my little, almost minor wanna-be-boyfriend!" you giggled. 

He turned you around, pressing your back against his chest and wrapped his arms around you so you could face Lidia. She was staring at you in disbelief. 

"My friend! The only one I have. Pete, look, my friend!" you turned your head to Peter and pointed at Lidia. He laughed at you, kissing the top of your head. Peter couldn't help but fall in love with you even harder when you were acting like a toddler that needed attention. 

"You weren't wrong, this is funny." Lidia said after the initial shock was over. 

"Okay, missy, we should probably go home now."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because you'll want to kiss!"

"I mean, I always want to kiss you, I don't see your point."

"But there are no people at home!"

"And?"

"There won't be a reason not to kiss!"

"So you're saying what's stopping you from kissing me here are the people?"

"Yes."

"And if there weren't any people around, you would kiss me?"

"No! You would kiss me!"

"I want to kiss you now as well?" Peter and Lidia laughed, making you puzzled. 

"No, you got it wrong!"

"How did I get it wrong?"

"We can't go home because we will kiss."

"Now you're making me want to go home even more."

You thought about it for a second, confused. You looked up at Peter and then at Lidia who were dying from laughter at that point. It got you even more confused than before. 

"Okay, Lidia, it was lovely meeting you, but I need to get her to bed." Peter said after they calmed down. 

"We can't go home!"

"If I promise not to kiss you, can we go home?"

"I guess."

Peter was holding you the whole time but let you go so you could hug your friend goodbye. He didn't want to let go, it was the only time you would ever let him touch you without getting angry at him and he wanted it to last longer, so when you turned to him again, his arm was wrapped around your shoulders as he escorted you to the car.

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

You were awfully silent the whole ride back. 

"Are you still worried about me kissing you?" He asked after the two of you got inside.

"No." 

"Then why are you so quiet?" he asked, sitting down on the couch. You sat down next to him, staring at him. He turned his head to look at you, a bit weirded out from your act.

"You're starting to freak me out here."

"Sorry." you mumbled, looking down at your lap now.

You turned your head to look back at him, then down your lap again, and repeated the whole process a few times like a robot that was experiencing a glitch. Peter looked at you with the side of his eyes because he was checking the replies to his instagram stories from the frat party. He turned his head fully towards you, his eyebrows furrowed. Before he could say anything, you leaned in and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you. Your lips crashed together and you gave him the softest, sweetest kiss in his life. He dropped his phone on the floor but he couldn't care less about that right now, his crush was kissing him. His hands grabbed your waist while yours were on his cheeks, your lips dancing together. He tried to pull away because he was uncertain of how much you really wanted this but your teeth dug into his bottom lip and pulled him back in again. 

"Pete" you said softly after the kiss, both of your foreheads pressed against each other's as your hot heavy breaths mixed together.

"Yeah?"

"I wanna do the thing we do in my dreams."

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 6: playing with hair

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

Reblog if you liked it!

“I brought more popcorn,” you announced happily, offering Spencer the full bowl and watching him clap silently.

The entire team had received Rossi's invitation to watch a movie at his house, under the excuse that in recent weeks you had not gone anywhere outside of work hours to spend time together as friends and not as co-workers.

Spencer was currently sitting on the floor, claiming that he really enjoyed sitting there instead of on the couches, with his back leaning on the space you had made between your legs and his gaze intent on the suspense movie that the host had chosen. 

At some point in the middle of the darkness of the room your hand went down to reach the tip of a strand in his long loose hair and began to play with it carelessly, almost as if it were a reflex action. Spencer was used to you doing that all the time so it didn't take him by surprise, but at some point the movie stopped being interesting enough for you to pay attention and you decided to start running your hands consciously through his hair. When you massaged him you heard him sigh from time to time and you continued like that until with the help of your fingers you began to get rid of the knots he had and only a silky cascade of brown with golden touches remained.

“Hey,” you whispered, leaning down to speak right in his ear.

"Yeah?"

“Let me braid your hair?”

“Whatever you want, pretty,” he replied quietly. The man leaned to the side to plant a distracted kiss on your knee as if to make you aware that he had heard you, but also to show you that he was too interested in the plot of the film for a more enthusiastic response.

You did a few small french braids on the top of his head and a few more scattered throughout the loose section below, taking your time to get them perfect. From time to time he would raise his hand to put popcorn in your mouth, knowing that you were very committed to your work, and you didn't even realize that it had been long enough for the movie to end until the credits rolled and JJ turned on the lights in the living room.

“Well, that was an ending I wasn't expecting,” Emily exhaled, apparently satisfied with the film choice David had made.

"You liked the movie?" he asked suddenly, turning towards you for the first time and allowing you to admire your masterpiece. He looked totally pretty, in a feminine way that only a man like him could pull off.

“I got distracted halfway with you, if I'm honest.”

“We can see it getting home if you want, I want to test a theory about continuity errors” he suggested to you happily. Few commercial movies caught your boyfriend's attention and you thought that if he had enjoyed it you probably would too, although now from the comfort of your home.

“What's on your head, Reid?” Morgan smiled, looking at his friend and causing the rest to do the same. Spencer still didn't seem aware of what you had done until you lent him your phone screen for him to use as a mirror and then he could see what you had been focusing on for the last half hour.

"You like them?"

“I don't know, do you think I look good?” he asked genuinely. You loved that part of your boyfriend, the one that didn't let himself be carried away by prejudices and he only enjoyed things that could make him happy or, in the same way, make you happy.

You smiled and leaned down enough to place a gentle kiss on his lips, followed by at least three more spread across his cheeks and one on the tip of his nose that tickled him.

"I love them. I love you” 

“Oh, come on, get a room!” Prentiss squealed as he threw a cushion at you and made a face of displeasure at your little romantic moment.

“How did you get him to let you do his hair? He never left me”

“I guess they're girlfriend benefits, Garcia,” you joked, while he pulled your hand to his mouth to leave a delicate kiss on your knuckles “Besides, he was too preoccupied with finding out who the murderer was to notice"

“That’s not true, I knew you were combing my hair. I only left you because it relaxes me a lot that you play with it” he confessed, looking at you out of the corner of his eye even from his position on the floor.

Spencer wanted to get that admiring look from you just a little longer and upon arriving at your shared apartment he slept with his hair combed, until the next morning he was greatly surprised when he realized that the locks you had braided were now curly. You took out some old tubes that your mother had given you, but they were now almost obsolete, and you explained to him that they fulfilled the same function, promising that if a case didn’t arise that same night, you would put them on so that he could see the results himself.

Seeing the experienced and brilliant doctor you had as a boyfriend full of blue tubes in his head was something you never thought you would witness, but the excited smile on his face at the new hairstyle was payment enough for your loving heart.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl

[mattslolita]

psycho killer - c. sturniolo ( 003. )

in which ... a killer is terrorizing the town of boston and charmaine soon realizes she's the final girl in his twisted game.

ghostface!chris x black!fem oc

warnings ; blood , gore , death , eventual smut , angst , ghostface!chris , final girl! oc

"𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆, 𝒊'𝒎 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒓𝒆!"

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

news reporters and police officers swarmed the entrance to somerville high school — even with madison riding next to her in officer levine's police car, charmaine still wished she would be swallowed whole by the earth. there was no way she could stand all that.

madison bit her lip as she drummed her fingers along the door, and charmaine could see the girl visibly shaking. she looked up and saw officer levine give both girls a sympathetic smile. "i know it's gonna be difficult for you girls, but you'll be safer here at school."

"yeah, unless we get accused for murder," madison scoffed quietly, glancing over at charmaine, "honestly, there's no way people aren't gonna mob us."

"they've got me on speed dial in case someone does," officer levine reassured the girls. charmaine looked up then, a tired half smile on her face.

"thanks, officer," the older girl mumbled, turning to look at madison, "let's just get this over with, okay?"

madison nodded hesitantly, and both girls hurriedly stepped outside the police the car — no sooner than a minute later just after madison linked her arm with charmaine's the two girls got overran by all the reporters.

"what was the attack like?"

"who attacked you? do you know who it was?"

"did one of you kill morgan maldonado?"

"did you team up to kill her?"

charmaine felt her blood boil at the comment — she was about to lash out right then and there, let every report there have it. but then she saw her friend group hurrying to approach the two girls, causing her nerves to slow just slightly.

charmaine felt her breathing begin to shallow as chris, matt, nick, and alahna all came up to the two girls. noticing her panic, chris was quick to whisk the girl to the side so she could calm herself down. "char, i need you to breathe for me."

looking up at chris, charmaine felt herself slowly beginning to calm as his azure eyes looked into hers worriedly. he steadied her with both his hands on her waist. when charmaine looked past chris though, she could see the eyes of almost all the student body on her. and she began to feel even worse when she saw they were also looking at madison — tears brimmed her eyes.

"hey, it's okay," chris whispered to the girl, pulling her into a hug, holding her close, "i'm so glad you're okay."

"i'm glad madi's okay," charmaine mumbled into chris's shoulder, letting out a breath, "i can't believe morgan's gone."

charmaine pulled away from chris, wiping away at the tears that escaped her eyes. "how're you feeling? i'm so sorry morgan's gone..."

chris's eyes went downcast and her took a grim expression, and the brunette boy shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "me either. we were supposed to go to prom together and everything..."

charmaine's heart ached for her best friend — although she was in love with chris, she knew that morgan made him so happy. she was their number one supporter, and she would always be the one who'd try and resolve it whenever they got into a fight. charmaine was so sad that now she wouldn't get to see them grow together — even if she did wish it was her chris could've grown with.

"oh char," alahna said, coming up towards charmaine and pulling her into a big hug, "i'm so glad you're safe, baby."

"yeah, me too i guess," charmaine said, hugging alahna back tightly, "i'm just glad you weren't there."

"hey, it's my turn now!" nick said, motioning for alahna to let go, causing the curtis girl to roll her eyes and step aside as nick moved to hug her, "i'm so sorry, char."

"it's okay, nick," charmaine said, smiling softly.

"and now everyone's gonna be looking at us like we're criminals," madison scoffed, shaking her head and looking around.

and of course, everyone was staring at the two girls — the whispers weren't so subtle, and charmaine wished she could punch the shit out of everyone. but she knew that wasn't gonna change anything.

"hey, we know you two are innocent," matt said with a frown, rubbing madison's back comfortingly, "especially you madi, you couldn't hurt a fly."

"truth, i've had to kill plenty of bugs for her whenever we hang out," nick added, causing madison to roll her eyes playfully and hit nick's chest.

"we've been best friends for too long for me to ever think any different of you, charm," alahna said, smiling at charmaine softly. 

"well, i'm glad you believe me, lans," charmaine smiled weakly, letting out a sigh, "i just wish everyone else could've been there to know the truth."

as the triplets and alahna attempted to comfort the girls, charmaine couldn't help but notice that chris hadn't left her side once — it was like he was rooted in his spot there, and charmaine could feel the butterflies in her stomach at the thought; even though madison was his best friend too, it was like chris was mostly worried about charmaine.

"listen, the bell's about to ring," chris suddenly whispered to charmaine, "you wanna head to class?"

taken aback by the sudden action, charmaine's cheeks warmed and she nodded. "yeah, i guess so. i'll see you guys later."

"yeah, see you later, char," matt said softly, pulling his best friend into a side hug. "just text any of us if you need someone to skip with you, okay?"

"yeah," charmaine said, giving matt a small smile, "thanks matt."

the second oldest triplet smiled at the girl, as chris and her began walking away from the group. charmaine hoped either nick or matt would walk madison to class, being that alahna and madison aren't as close yet, and she didn't want there to be tension between them. charmaine met alahna and the triplets before she met madison, so naturally she was closer to alahna — but she loved both the girls the same regardless, and she hoped they could get along with each other.

the walk to their class started off silent, until charmaine caught chris sneaking glances at her. "okay, what is it, chris?"

chris sighed, fully turning to charmaine, both of them having stopped in the hallway. chris ran a hand through his hair again. "i'm just really sorry i couldn't be there for you, chari."

charmaine caught herself smiling at the use of the nickname — whilst everyone else either called her char or even charm, only chris had ever called her chari, which was the combination of her first and middle name. it made her feel special in a way, especially since he never had any nicknames like that for morgan.

"it's better you weren't there, actually," charmaine laughed humorlessly, "otherwise that's another friend i would've lost."

"oh, so are you saying i can't protect you?" chris joked with a grin, causing charmaine to roll her eyes playfully, "i'm a lacrosse player, i could easily beat his ass."

charmaine laughed. "mhm, playing lacrosse doesn't make you strong, chris!"

both teens laughed before a serious expression took over chris's face, and he folded his arms across his chest, looking down at charmaine — she raised an eyebrow at him as he narrowed his eyes at her slightly. "you do know i'm always gonna be there, right charmaine?"

charmaine should not be finding what chris is doing attractive, but she does — after all, morgan's not here anymore. wow, she was so horrible for even thinking something like that. she was a horrible friend.

"yeah, i know, chris," charmaine answered slowly, glancing up at him, unable to maintain the eye contact.

"okay."

as the two teens continued walking with each other, charmaine couldn't stop pondering on their moment they shared just now — of course, it was only something between really close friends. there was nothing more that lingered there, and charmaine needed to remind herself of that.

when they reached charmaine's first class, she sighed and stopped at the door, turning to face chris. he looked down at her with a small grin, causing charmaine to roll her eyes. "i'll see you later, chris."

pulling the boy into one last hug for the time being, she hurriedly walked into her first class of the day. all the while, with his arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the door frame, chris had watched the girl's every movement, never taking his eyes off of her. charmaine sat down in her seat and set her bag beside her, and she ran a hand through her hair just then. chris's jaw ticked at the looks she received, and he knew that she'd probably need to get away from them all soon — charmaine looked towards the door and saw chris still there; when she gave him a reassuring smile, is when he finally decided to walk away from where he was head to his own classroom.

💌 lil

i'm giggling i love overprotective chris🤭 a little bit jealous chris in the next part😏

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @eyeliketoeatpoosay @mattsturniolosleftnut @mrssturnioloo @mattsivy @guccifrog @prettiest-poision @e1ias3 @breeloveschris @summerssover @l0akkzz

[vanvelding]

I'm going to say one of the nicest things I can about a show about Star Trek: Lower Decks

They played us like a string quartet.

(Spoilers for 4x09: "The Inner Fight")

Lower Decks was sold a Star Trek/Rick & Morty mashup from the start. The first scene is a drunken Mariner literally harming her sidekick, Boimler. It practically screamed, "Mariner & Boimler a hundred tours! Double-u, double-u, double-u dot Mariner and boimler dot com!"

But of course, it also had Star Trek references. One of the earliest is "Who would win in a fight? Khan or Roga Danar?" Why would anyone else in The Federation know or care who Roga Danar is? And there's no imagination on display for the oldest referential paradigm, "Who would win in a fight?" Lazy. Bullshit.

Of course before the end of season one, Lower Decks showed us it was more than that. Boimler was gaining the kind of experience he needed. The story hinted very strongly that Mariner had been in Starfleet a LONG time. She wasn't a omnicompotent mary sue; she was a Commander with her own philosophy/trauma that compelled her to remain an Ensign.

It was a good show and it stood on its own. The references were used well to create interesting stories ("Twovix"), as part of the setting ("Hear All, Trust Nothing"), or just as a gag here and there ("Kayshon, His Eyes Open" and, like a dozen others). The references to the setting become the background radiation, remarkable in how deep a cut they really are (Vendorians?). I've described it to many people as "Star Trek, but everyone has watched Star Trek."

What it wasn't, was related to its namesake. "Lower Decks" was a surprisingly heavy episode about the younger members of the Enterprise crew and their perspective on the missions of galactic import that the viewer usually enjoys an omnisicent view of.

Lower Decks mentions our main cast don't have that omniscient view, but Mariner is a stone-cold badass, Rutherford was part of a secret effort to develop artificial intelligence, Tendi is the Mistress of the Winter Constellations, and Boimler--actually Biomler is no more exceptional than any other Starfleet officer.

So when we get our main cast and the senior officers into a room and they mention Nick Locarno, our thought is, "LOL, another reference. This one from TNG. Not particularly deep. LOL, Boimler is a Beverly Crusher fanboy. I guess it makes sense, they have the character model from the episode with Tom Paris. Clearly, Robert Duncan McNeil is happy to do some voice work. We'll probably make a reference to how much he looks like Tom Paris.

"lol"

Look, if you figured it out then pat yourself on the back. Me? I filed away another reference. I didn't realize that Nick Locarno was connected to the episode of TNG that was this entire series' namesake. The characters even say, "Who?" which is one of the first times they don't get a Star Trek reference. Because Nick Locarno isn't a part of the Star Trek universe they view with an enthusiastic fandomness; it's part of their dramatic history, whether they know it or not.

"ha-ha, I guess Nick Locarno is too deep a cut for the show that called back to Morgan fucking Bateson."

But whatever, A-plot/B-plot. Gags about Starfleet habitually rolling up to seedy establishments in uniforms while looking for information, which is subverted by Captain Freeman being fucking genre savvy (also, wasn't she going to be promoted before getting arrested at the end of season two? I guess getting framed for a crime was deemed to be not very 'admiral-able'). Mariner ends up in a cave with a Klingon taking shelter from a crystal rain.

The pieces are there. Mariner was an ensign during The Dominion War. Two to three years before The Dominion War, Wesley Crusher left Starfleet, our Nick Locarno expy Tom Paris was recruited to Voyager, and Sito Jaxa was an ensign.

And Nick Locarno is in play.

We could have figured it out! We're in the narrative and emotional third act of this series (Tendi gave us the "We'll always be friends" speech last week)! Everyone regular just sat in a room trying to figure out how to help Mariner; we were one fruit salad analogy away from an intervention with Dr. Migleemoo!

Mariner escapes from Cardassian interrogation chambers for fun!

But Locarno is just another TNG reference, like Beverly Crusher. Background radiation. The season's story arc is something original to Lower Decks, which it's proven it's unafraid to do at this point. The series has no relation to "Lower Decks"

And then they fucking hit us with it; Beckett Mariner knew Sito Jaxa. They were friends. Then Jaxa died.

That's Mariner's trauma (that and The Dominion War).

And I didn't see it because I came to see Lower Decks as a series that stood on its own merits as a show while calling back to earlier Treks in a light, non-committal way. And I credit that solely to the writing of the show which leveraged both of those qualities to make an entertaining show that I like before, but now respect.

Just amazing stuff.

[marksbear]

police consultant reader who constantly flirts w spencer reid? things like "the perp must be taking them out to dinner, which i am also going to do if the nerd doesn't stop being cute" and "the doctor stole my heart, arrest the thief!"

just pure fluff with a charming reader —⚰️

It's short BUT not too short y'know. And I made sure this is all pure fluff my love! ⚰ and thanks for requesting!

SPENCER REID X CHARMING POLICEMAN READER

"When are these guys about to arrive?" Morgan says impatiently crossing his arms and taps his foot growing tired of all the waiting.

"Be patient Morgan. These guys are flying all the way here from Georgia just to help us in this case." Hotch says looking over the case once more trying to figure anything out.

The BAU hasn't made any progress trying to figure out who the unsub is and why they're doing this. So Rossi made a few calls and punched a favor in from Georgia's own BAU unit to come help them out with the case.

"How did you even convince them to come out all the way here?" Reid asks looking up from the folders to Rossi. "Well the team leader over there owes me a big favor from a few years back, so why not use it now." Rossi answers with a smirk.

Before Reid could ask another question the room door opens wide as a group of people walk inside. "Agent Rossi?" An older man's voice rings out looking around the room for his old friend. Rossi stands out his chair and welcomes the older man with a small hug.

"Xavier, hello my friend how are you?"

"Good Dave. Boy how I missed you! Please tell me, what has been going on with you?"

Before Rossi could respond back an unknown and younger voice cuts him off. "Great, theres nothing worse than two old men catching up." Earning a few laughs from the group of agents. Xavier rolls his eyes at the younger male before introducing everyone to his team.

"And this is special agent---" "Y/n L/n. And you are? Let me guess. Agent cutie?" Y/n cuts off his boss again looking at Reid with a smirk. Morgan and Penelope giggle among each other looking at the flustered doctor.

"U-uhm... Doctor Spencer Reid." Spencer says with a stutter making him even more embarrassed than before.

"You know doc, I think I maybe have hurt myself on the plane while getting here. Like my whole head and especially lips hurt, but~ theres nothing a little kiss can't fix, isn't that right doc?" Y/n says with a wink and taps his lips. Y/n stalks up closer to Spencer and leans down by him, so he can get a better look. "I bet---" Before Y/n could flirt with Reid more he was pulled away from one of his workers.

"That's enough L/n. You're acting like a predator with its prey." The worker Anne says pulling her friend away. "If that's true he must be the beautiful rabbit and i'm the---" Anne covers Y/n's mouth with her hand shutting him up.

Xavier laughs out and says "Sorry about that. Thats Y/n just being Y/n. Now lets get down to business shall we?"

Both BAU teams work with each other. They imagine the unsubs profile and picture them having a reason why and how the unsub is doing this. But why all have to figure out where the unsub picking up/ taking the women.

"The perp must be taking them out to dinner, which i am also going to do if the nerd doesn't stop being so damn cute."Y/n flirts giving Spencer a wink as well. Anne groans and rolls her eyes. "What? That wasn't good? Cmon y'all know that was good." Y/n says with a laugh.

"Y/n is right. The unsub must be inviting them to dinner or a bar since every victim dressed like they were going somewhere fancy something with romantic intentions." Reid adds also trying to ignore Y/n's last comment, but fails from the obvious blush on his face.

"The case also lists that the victims were already dating someone. So it's most likely the unsub is going for cheaters or something of that sort." Hotch also adds in. Everyone in the room begins to list theories and possible reasons as to why the unsub is doing this. Y/n whispers into his co-workers ears while eyeing Spencer no doubt giving him signals that he's talking about him.

"Guys... After this case is done I have another case involving me. the doctor stole my heart, arrest the thief! And have him sentenced to life with me~" Y/n says causing both teams to aww and tease Spencer. "Awww~ Spence got himself a boyfriend!~" Derek teases causing Penelope to giggle and join in. "Y/n and Spencer kissing in a tree--" Before Penelope could finish Spencer covers his face in embarrassment causing everyone to laugh and giggle.

"You two just get a room already." Hotch adds in with the jokes causing everyone to pitch in their own joke to make the doctor even more embarrassed. "When is the wedding? And where are my grandchildren?" Rossi says with a laugh.

"I'm already planning to get on one knee." Y/n says causing everyone to laugh and giggle.

"Alright alright. Everyone gets back on track, then we can plan me and Spencer's future together. Like how much kids were having, who's moving in with who. When can I kiss him. And so on and so on. I don't my future husband to die from being so cute~ and from blushing." Y/n says wrapping his arm around Spencer's shoulder.

THE END

[twola]

Hey don't know if this one is up your alley but I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is a sharpshooter (kinda like Black Belle) and Arthur was originally gonna take her to the sheriff's but they end up getting caught up in a fight with the O'Driscolls and she saves his life, then que the enemies to friends to lovers lmao

Later on they meet again and take down a house full of lemoyne raiders, they both lay low for a while then smut ensues lol.

I'm bad at describing but you can put your own twist on it if you want, make it however long you want, don't matter I just love your writing ❤️❤️

Hoooooo’kay. So this is probably a bit harder than the original requestor was thinking, but I’ve written too many sweet one-shots recently. It’s time to get a little nasty.

Anything You Can Do

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Arthur meets his match in one of his bounties. His infuriatingly difficult match.

taglist: @pinkiemme, @redwritr, @mykneeshurt, @bimbo-dollz

Curtis Malloy rolls his eyes as the gunslinger ahead of him inquires about the bounty poster tucked on the far corner of his desk. Of course, the man would ask about that one. A picture of a woman, of all things, wanted for murder, robbery, and theft. A woman with hard eyes but a pleasing face.

Wasn’t the first one to come askin’. The sheriff took the damn poster off the wall after men started dying when they went after her. He’d hear talk of fool-hearted bounty hunters heading north into Ambarino to find this lady to bring her in, only to end with lead between their eyes, floating down the Dakota River.

But this man, well, he’s been rather successful as of late - and Malloy knew that he probably ran in the same vein of people he was picking up. No loyalty to the trade, he guesses. And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t any skin off of his nose. Would get the man out of his hair and stop begging for more folks to hunt. Give him more time to deal with this Moira situation…

“Supposed to be up campin’ by Window Rock. But she likely has the area booby-trapped. Startin’ to lose count of the men who’ve gone up there to get killed tryin’ to take in this little lady.” Malloy warns as he hands the poster to the man ahead of him. The man grunts, tucking away the poster in his brown leather jacket, nodding before exiting out to the street.

Malloy gives a look to one of his deputies across the room.

Both begin to laugh.

-

Arthur’s seen his fair share of women easily fend for themselves. He saw the way Black Belle could shoot - likely better than he could. He sure as hell wouldn’t want to meet Mrs. Adler in a dark alley. She’d likely stab him before he could get a hand on her.

This woman supposedly had a deadly shot - a pile of bounty hunters at her feet. He knew he wasn’t going to just walk up to the tent and threaten you. This required a bit more finesse.

But still, as he gazed through his binoculars at his prize, you certainly didn’t look like the woman people were talking about in Valentine. Fairly short in stature, long dark hair falling in waves over your back. Arthur raises an eyebrow when he notices your curves as you kneel on one knee at your campfire.

Nope, he definitely does not miss the way those trousers hug your form.

He also does not miss the revolver in the belt slung around your hips as you rise from the fire, stretching your arms above your head and yawning. He does not miss the fishing line taut along the ground, tied to a rock precariously perched on a tree branch. Obviously placed there to alert you of intruders. Several fellers likely met their end due to that fishing line.

Arthur circles the campsite at a wide angle, hidden by the shadows of the night. He takes his time hunting his prey, taking in the lay of the land around, noting your movements, and ways of egress - like stalking a deer, he has you in his sights and is damn sure of it before he makes his move.

That move being edging dangerously close, revolver drawn, and diving at you once you’re in distance to reach. Your breath is knocked from your lungs as his large form lands atop you on the hard ground, caging in your limbs beneath him. You squawk, in a rather undignified manner, as he holsters his own revolver and reaches into yours to draw it out, disarming you and tossing your revolver several feet away.

“Get your damn hands off me.” You spit, but alas, the way he has you pinned down, you’re unable to fight back. The strength of this man was frightening. If it weren’t for the damn noose you know is waiting for you at the end of this, you would be excited by how strong he is. He quickly and easily hogties you, leaving you cursing and sputtering on the ground as he whistles for his horse.

Once his mare has sidled up, he heaves you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes, and you yelp in indignation as he tosses you over the rump of his horse.

A sack of potatoes with a very nice ass in those trousers.

Arthur blinks briefly before shaking his head, pulling himself up into the saddle. Just to cut back through Cumberland and to Valentine, then he’d get the pretty penny on this woman’s head. One of the larger bounties he’s seen, he has to admit.

“You lousy sack of shit, I wasn’t bothering anyone!” You yell from the rump of the horse.

“Ain’t me who decides your bounty, Miss-” Arthur simply replies, urging the mare into a trot, before you cut him off with a hiss.

“Say another word and I’ll geld you.” You interrupt before he can say your name.

“Sure, lady.” Arthur chuckles, knowing you wouldn’t be gelding anyone hogtied on the back of his horse, crossing the Dakota near Fort Wallace.

Blessed silence. For what seems like only a few moments.

“Since you know me so well, who the hell are you?” You ask, raising your head a bit.

“Now why would I tell you that?” Arthur chuckles, urging his horse southward on the road, deep into Cumberland Forest.

“I’d like to at least know the man’s name before I get fucked.” You retort, an even more sour tone in your voice.

“Arthur Morgan, my lady.” He replies, egging you on with the honorific, knowing you ain’t anything close to that, especially with the mouth on you. He’s about to stay something to prod you further when he hears voices up the road in the distance.

“Shit.” Arthur curses, as four green-sashed men crash through the trees. He immediately circles the horse to change direction as he hears a rider approaching on horseback, yelling at him.

Of course, O’Driscolls had taken up again at Six Point. Morgan, you idiot, you’re waltzing straight past them.

“Let me go and I can help you.” You call from behind him, trying to duck from whizzing bullets as much as your bindings would allow.

“Yeah, so you can shoot me in the back of the head too? Not a chance, lady.” Arthur retorts as he spurs his mare into a gallop, and you grunt as the wind gets knocked out of you from the jolting.

The O’Driscolls are in hot pursuit, the rider is joined by three others as Arthur pushes his horse back toward the Dakota, but with you slung over the back of her rump, he’s not able to urge his horse faster, not if he was going to get this bounty. Needed you alive.

He curses aloud as a bullet whizzes by his head on the right, and he turns the horse to the left, which was a poor decision as the mare reaches the cliffsides jutting up on either side of the Dakota, the river far below.

Pinned down along the face of the cliff, Arthur senses his horse getting skittish. Any more of this and the mare is going to buck him, and the bounty. He curses again as a bullet nearly hits his hat, sliding off the saddle and dragging you to the ground. You squeak with indignation until you hit the ground, groaning and cursing him. But to your surprise, he is unsheathing his knife and cutting the ropes at your ankle and wrists. You immediately scramble up and turn to him, smacking him hard across the face.

“Serves you right, asshole.”

“Y’done now, lady?” Arthur fumes, working his jaw as he reaches over your shoulder to grab the long guns from his horse’s saddles, before the damn thing spooks and runs away.

“If you wanna go with them, be my guest, but O’Driscolls don’t have a particularly good reputation of their handlin’ of women.” Arthur sneers at you, shoving a repeater at your chest, glaring before another bullet whizzes by and the both of you hit the ground out of sheer reflex.

You immediately open and close the lever to chamber a round, gritting your teeth. “This thing full at least?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Arthur retorts as he pulls revolvers from his belt, dual wielding as his mare screams and bolts for cover.

By the time the two of you rise, bullets fly and hit their targets, one O’Driscoll falling off his horse in a spray of blood to his chest, another gets shot in the head and his body limply clings in the saddle. Arthur runs across the open glen, knowing he’s a sitting duck in the wide open, and you dart in the other direction to the other treeline, quickly disappearing from sight.

Goddamnit. Of course you ran. Morgan, you’re even more of an idiot.

Arthur is fuming to himself so much so that he doesn’t hear the clicking of the revolver’s safety until too late, the steel of a barrel being pressed against the back of his neck.

“Drop 'em’.” The O’Driscoll threatens, and Arthur drops the revolvers in his hands, clattering to the ground as his captor pushes him forward, winding an arm around his shoulder and pressing the revolver further into his neck. They stop in the middle of the clearing.

“Think ol’ Colm misses ya, Morgan.”

Arthur scowls at the ground with the warm barrel of the gun against his neck, probably burning his skin. The O’Driscoll laughs behind him.

“You stop right there, you mick bastard.”

Your voice, high and sharp, cuts through the mountain air like a knife.

The O’Driscoll spins himself and Arthur around, forcing Arthur ahead of him to shield most of his body.

“C’mon now, you go on and leave the shootin’ to the men, dearie. I’ll even give you a head start.” The O’Driscoll laughs as you point the repeater dead at his face, twenty feet away.

You don’t move, and the O’Driscoll frowns, shoving his pistol into Arthur’s neck harder.

“Put the gun down, lady. Or Morgan gets the next round.”

Your stance never wavers. A small smirk comes across your face.

“Doin’ me a favor then?”

The O’Driscoll raises his eyebrow, but in a flash, it is all over. The crack of the repeater echoes in the glen as a body hits the ground. Arthur’s hat rolls on its lid across the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Arthur stumbles ahead, holding his ear, absolutely covered in blood and brain matter. His eyes flit behind him, to take in the O’Driscoll, dead on the ground, half his face caved in from the bullet that hit him between the eyes.

He looks up to you in shock and bewilderment. You slowly lower the repeater and open and close the lever, chambering another round. Completely unfazed.

“I got one more round in here, Mister Morgan. I’d like very much not to use it on you.” You state with an air of superiority, dead serious as you grip the repeater tightly.

Arthur slowly raises his hands, his guns still strewn across the ground feet away after his tussle with the now-dead O’Driscoll.

“Now listen to me. I’m gonna take one of these horses and be on my way. And you ain’t gonna follow me. You’re gonna forget that bounty and get on with the next sucker you chase down.” You say, with an even, deadly tone.

“Don’t you usually shoot them men comin’ after you?” Arthur asks, his hands still outstretched.

“I do. But usually the men comin’ after me ain’t as handsome as you are. Would be a shame to blow your brains out.” You say with a smirk, starting to back away, toward where the O’Driscoll’s horse grazes in the long grass.

Arthur’s cheeks tinge pink as he remains still, but lowers his hands.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, Mister Morgan. Maybe you can make up for me savin’ your pretty hide.”

You give an exaggerated curtsy before climbing into the saddle of the horse, the repeater still ready to fire. You grab the reins tightly and circle the horse once before galloping off, leaving Arthur Morgan standing alone in the clearing, saved but for the dead O’Driscoll.

-

Lemoyne was too damn hot. Sweltering. Disgusting. Even as the dusk fell. Even outside of the damn swamp, Arthur hated it. The gang had moved south after that shootout with Cornwall in Valentine. Bad business all around. Now, Dutch and Hosea have been working both angles of the local yokel families, locked in some kind of bitter generational feud.

Arthur just needed to clear his head. Dutch had him working as a lawman, of all the ridiculous things. He’s taken this free moment to do his own work, having been tipped off on a Lemoyne Raiders safe house not far from Ringneck Creek, supposed to be just a few of these idiots and a cache of items they have stored from their roadside robberies throughout the state.

Ripe for the taking.

The old barn house stood on the rise, and he could tell, as he swung down from his mare just beyond the treeline. He smacks her rump and she’s off, back down toward the Kamassa. He lets the rifle strapped across his shoulders down, aiming through its sights at the movement of men in the distance.

“Well well, if it isn’t the fastest draw in the west.” A sharp voice cuts through the quiet.

Arthur swings his rifle at the interloper that appeared several feet away from him, cursing himself for not being aware of his surroundings.

Oh. It’s you.

God damnit.

“The hell are you doing here?” Arthur harshly whispers, lowering the rifle.

You nod your head toward the barn behind him, “I was going in on a tip I got that the yokels had things stashed here.”

Arthur frowns. “Don’t tell me you got that from Alden.”

“The ticket man, in Rhodes.”

“God damnit.” He rolls his eyes. He scowls at you, standing there with your hand on your hip. Looking positively infuriating in dark trousers and a fairly tight-fitting button-down. Highlighting your curves, while your dark hair is pulled back into a long braid.

Focus, damnit. Arthur chides himself as he turns back toward the barn, looking again through the scope of this rifle at the men mulling about.

“Tell you what, Mister Morgan. You could use another gun. I could use wastin’ less bullets on these inbreds. Split what we find.”

Arthur has counted seven Raiders going in and out of the barn, which would be a fairly large number if he were alone. He sighs in exasperation.

“Fine.”

-

“Well, probably wasn’t the whole lot of them, I’m sure there are more of these wannabe civil war soldiers slinking about.” You muse, rifling through papers on a makeshift as Arthur picks a lockbox, pocketing the billfolds inside. Stepping over a dead body, you catch Arthur’s frame over that lockbox.

You notice what his hands are doing, and glare at him. “Hey - asshole, we’re splittin’ this.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, but acquiesces, tossing one of the billfolds at you. You catch it with ease.

“After that noise we should probably lay low for a bit.” You move toward the barn door, shouldering your repeater, stopping to listen outside for a moment.

“Oh, so now there’s a we?” Arthur snaps back at you as he follows you to the door.

“Be my guest if you wanna head into the swamps at this time of night. I, on the other hand, have a cabin I cleared out on the other side of Dewberry Creek.” You glance at him, pushing through the barndoor with your hand on your gun, looking around for any kind of movement. Your horse has meandered closer, and you whistle lowly for it to come closer.

You pull yourself into the saddle and look down at him.

“You coming? Or you just gonna stand there like an idiot?”

-

“Ain’t this homey?” Arthur retorts, looking at the rundown state of the cabin inside. A bed, with a near-disintegrating blanket, an old table, broken cabinets, and maybe one chair that didn’t look like it was about to fall apart.

“Ain’t your momma teach you manners? Lady invites you into her abode and you just insult her.” You slide the rifle from your back and place it upright against the stone fireplace.

“You’re a lady now? Coulda fooled me.” Arthur follows, placing his repeater on the table, unwilling to have you get the last word in.

You sneer at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Last time I checked, I have two tits and a cunt - pretty sure that makes me a lady - unless you’ve encountered different.”

“Pretty sure a lady wouldn’t be speakin’ like that.” Arthur returns, glancing away from you and trying to hide the flush that he knows is burning up his cheeks - he’s trying not to look at your breasts, framed by your crossed arms. Trying not to think of your ass in those trousers, the taper of your hips, the cunt he suddenly can’t not imagine filling.

“Oh, is you a gentleman? A dashing outlaw with ladies falling in his lap from here to Armadillo?” You point at him, pressing your finger into his chest, gritting your teeth as your self-righteousness and hackles both rise.

For once, he’s silent. For once in the whole goddamn time you’ve known him, he’s given you an opening. Seize it. Take the enemy down. Merciless. Just like shootin’.

“Bet you couldn’t please a lady even if you was the one being paid.” Your voice lowers as you go in for the kill.

To his credit, Arthur resurges with sputtering indignation, pushing you several steps backward until your back slams against the cabin wall. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Christ alive, the mouth on you. How’s about I shut you up by givin’ you somethin’ to fill it?”

With his hands clamped on your shoulders and his large frame looming over yours, it’s not fear that you feel. Not that he’s going to hurt you, or turn you in. Something more profound than that. Something that shoots to your very core.

“I’d like to see you try.” You hiss at him, and see his jaw work in frustration, “Probably can’t even make a woman come.”

His thigh immediately rams forward, parting your legs as his hands fly to your hips, lifting you several inches above the ground, you yelp as he presses up against your core.

“I’m gonna make you eat them words, missy.” He hisses as he leans into your ear.

“Not if I make you come first.” You respond breathily, your hand moving to cup at the seam of his pants, grabbing at his burgeoning cock. He grunts and shoves his thigh up higher, and you mewl as it causes you to grind against the hard bone of his femur.

“You’re askin’ fer it.” He grunts as he presses his pelvis against you, his cock hard against your belly. A zing of pleasure shoots through your core in response. He’s not lacking, in any measure. His hands briefly leave your body to pull at the buckle of his gun belt, and the belt clatters to the floor at his feet.

“Yeah,” You grab his collar two-fisted and pull him to you, “I am askin’ fer it.” You parrot back in his drawl, lips inches away from his for just a moment, before you bridge the distance and take his mouth forcefully, not letting him respond as you shove your tongue inside.

He’s not surprised, nor taken off balance, matching your fevered press into his mouth with his own, battling for supremacy as his tongue wrests with yours. You barely feel one of his hands leave your hip and start to work the buttons of your trousers, it's not until he works them open enough to shove his hand down the front of your pants that you groan in surprise into his mouth. His rough, calloused fingers weave their way downwards, under the waistband of your bloomers, and straight to your moistening core, where he slides a long, meaty finger into your cunt, making you mewl.

But you cannot let him win.

Summoning all the fight you have in you, battling against the sweet sound of his hand smacking up against wet skin, your hands shoot down to cup his burgeoning erection through his pants, and he moans as his hips move to press forward into your touch.

You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut as you open his pants, breathing through your nose as he latches his mouth to the side of your neck, slipping his middle finger inside you, making you curse under your breath as you finally reach your goal. You nearly rip his pants open and fish his hard cock out, your fingers wrapping around it as you begin to pump his shaft, desperate to make him feel as helpless as he’s making you feel.

Arthur moans needily against your neck, rolling his hips, and losing his rhythm as he rocks his hand into you. You smile as your head tilts back, pleased at yourself that you’ve met him and matched him.

It would not be for long, though. He retracts his hands and finds your hips again, and the next thing you know, you’re lifted in the air, caught off guard, and instinctually wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both the several steps to the table. One of his hands moves to your lower back, keeping you upright, as he lays you down and spreads you out on the flat surface.

The gunslinger leans over and captures your lips again as he starts to work your trousers and bloomers down your waist, over the swell of your ass that you raise in the air to help him. You have the wherewithal to kick your boots off as he works your pants down your thighs, standing to his full height as he peels them off you completely, leaving your lower half bare to his gaze. Your tapered hips, glistening folds, wet and ready for him.

You take advantage of his dumb-struck stare to unhook his suspenders from the front of his pants, yanking them down over his hips to let them rest above his knees.

Wasting no time, before you know he’s going to catch you, you wrap one hand around his shaft and cup his testicles with the other, squeezing both gently as he groans, his hands holding himself up as he leans above you, his hips starting to thrust forward.

It's only a matter of time. Only a matter of time before his eyes open, hands snap to your hips, and you’re yanked bodily forward, ass nearly hanging off the table, and you let go of his member as he presses forward, the head of his cock touching your wet folds and making you both moan aloud.

“Still askin’ fer it?” He pants, and all you can do is moan in response and shake your head in the affirmative, spreading your legs for him.

Arthur immediately slides his cock all the way in, until the chestnut curls at the base of his cock meet the dark hair over your cunt, and you cannot help but to mewl, watching as he slowly withdraws and presses in again. Your legs spread even wider as both of you can’t look away from the sight: his long, hard shaft glistening with your slick, disappearing into your body.

One of his hands moves from your hip to splay beneath your abdomen and presses down hard, he moans in appreciation as he can feel himself through your skin as he buries his cock in your cunt again. And again. And again. You fall back from your elbows completely onto your back, the pressure of him making you gasp and whine.

Fuck, this is where you hurtle toward that point of no return, there’s no holding back the wave of pleasure that threatens to drown you as Arthur pounds himself into your hips. There’s no winning or losing anymore, there is just the chasing of that pleasure.

You’re cresting, back beginning to arch uncontrollably as he pumps into you hard and fast. You don’t give a shit about losing, because you’re wrung so tightly you’re about to snap, needy whines escaping your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to stop tears from overstimulation from spilling down your cheeks.

The head of Arthur’s cock keeps hitting that spot in your cunt that makes you want to die in pleasure, his large hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

You can barely recognize the shriek you give as your own, and the grunts in return, fucking you harder through your release. Your spasming, clenching, shaking release.

“Yes, yes,” Arthur grits out. The broken syllables of his name escape your mouth as you come, he thrusts deep inside of you and you gush warm slick around his length.

He immediately groans, loudly, clenching your hips hard as he jerks himself from you, painting your mound white with arcs of his spend landing in your dark pubic hair. Arthur pants, not letting go of your hips as you at least have the wherewithal to lean up on your elbows again.

“Think…” he rasps, voice sex-hoarse and breathless, “I win.”

A smile cracks from your lips as you tighten your legs around his hips, drawing him closer.

“Best…” you pant, “Two outta three.”

-

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Your Scars Are Mine

Ch. 2

LA! Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Mentions of Violence, I guess that's it, I'm bad at this

⚠️ MASSIVE ASS TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ : Self-harm, Blood, Implied PTSD

Summary: In the few months that he has known you, Mihawk has noticed the scars on your arm. You've refused to talk about them and skirted around the subject successfully, but a trip to Shells Town throws everything out into the open in a way that neither of you were prepared for.

Ch. 1

Your words hung heavy in the air for a moment, before you opened your eyes, and gave a small smirk.

"But if that was a punishment I'm going to have to misbehave more often."

Mihawk shoved at your hip a little as your smirked widened. "We happen to be on a bit of time crunch, my dear," he reminded you. "I still have an appointment to make."

"Excuses," you said airily, rolling onto your back. You tipped his hat down over your eyes, stretching your arms back out behind your head. "What the hell is a vice admiral doing in Shell's Town anyway?"

"Apart from being a thorn in my side?" Mihawk shifted onto one elbow, his eyes passing over you as you lowered one arm to rest your hand over your bare stomach. His gaze landed on your arm, his mouth turning down in a frown as he took in the scars across it once more, like horizontal stripes across your soft skin, spanning from your delicate wrist to an inch above your elbow. "I imagine still handling the backlash of the sacking of Axe-Hand Morgan."

"He was fired?" you asked, amused. "What, because ofnthe Strawhats?" He gave a small hum in affirmation as you laughed. "That's hilarious." You shifted on the sheets, stretching your back with a slow sigh. "I may just stay right here while you handle your appointment. I don't think I can stomach so many Marines in one place."

"I would request that you venture out long enough to resupply." Another sigh left you, this one in clear protest. You had made quite clear your particular distaste for the company of Marines over the past few months, though not your reasons, a subject you tended to avoid as aptly as your scars. "It would lessen our time here." He rest a hand tentatively over your wrist, and didn't fail to notice how you recoiled slightly when his thumb brushed across a few of the mark. "Put us leaving as soon as I've finish dealing with Garp."

"Fine," you said shortly. Your arm slipped away from his hand, a subtle movement but one with a clear message, and pulled his hat from your head to drop it onto his, sitting up on the bed. You reached behind you and unhooked your torn bra. "The sooner the better. I am the errand girl, after all."

"Are you going to skirt around the subject forever?"

You paused for a moment—a brief, almost imperceptible moment—in picking up your shorts from the floor of the cabins. "No idea what you're referring to," you said casually, tossing his pants onto the bed.

"The scars," he said plainly, shifting to the edge of the bed to pull his pants back on, watching you disappear behind the door of the wardrobe at the other end of the cabin.

"There's no subject," you said, just as calmly, but he was sure he would have seen your shoulders grow tense had you not been hidden behind the door. "I've been on the seas for nearly ten years, anyone would have a few scars after that long."

"Ten," he repeated, his brow furrowed. "You're twenty-four."

"Nearly ten years," you repeated again. "It's not as if I've been pirating the entire time. That's only been...around six years."

"And what precisely were you doing prior to that?"

"It's a long story. And not a very interesting one." You shut the wardrobe, still buttoning a flowy white shirt—long sleeve, as usual, covering your arms. "And we're on a time crunch."

"We'll have all the time in the world after we're done here." As always—it was one step forward and two steps back with you. Mihawk stood and caught you by the waist before you could stroll out of the cabin, turning you to face him. Your shoulders were tensed, your jaw clenched as you met his eyes. "I hate to use our arrangement as pull, but if I must, I will." You averted your gaze as he lifted a hand and brushed a few strands of your hair behind your ear. "I prefer to know those working under me."

"Fine," you said through your teeth, pushing his hand away. "I go play errand-girl, you go play Garp's lap-dog, then we have a nice relaxing interrogation to round it all off, hmm?"

Mihawk lifted his eyebrows, a bit taken aback at how you swatted his hand away—but your scathing tone didn't surprise him too much. He wasn't exactly known for his openness, and it wasn't too big of a stretch that your own largely solitary career had kept you from being particularly open with anyone. That you would be defensive and stubborn to the point of hostility if anyone pushed the present subject.

But he could be plenty stubborn himself.

He lifted his hand again, wrapping it around your chin this time, resting his forehead against yours so you had nowhere else to look except for his eyes. He couldn't expect vulnerability from you without offering the same. Even if it was only a little to start, it was only fair.

He pressed a brief, deep kiss against your lips, and you met his eyes fully when he parted from it. "I love you. I'm fairly certain you are no more accustomed to hearing that than I am to saying it." You glanced away for the barest of moments, the tension in your shoulders easing a bit. "But it's the truth, and...I suppose it means there are certain matters we will need to meet halfway on. This is one of them."

"I already said I'd talk." The outright hostility had gone from your voice, but there was still a little annoyance buried in your quiet tone. "It's just...not an easy subject." There was something else there, sone other emotion, but before he could pinpoint what it was, you sighed and laid your forehead heavily against his broad chest. "Sorry I called you a lap-dog."

"Garp's lap-dog, at that." You hung your head lower with a small whine. "I've severed heads for less."

"Weird." You lifted your head, laying your temple against his shoulder and blinking up at him. "It's almost like you like me or something."

Mihawk could only stare at you in disbelief for a long moment as you grinned cheekily. After a moment he shook his head, rolled his eyes, and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him.

"Or something," he said, and tilted his head down to pull you into a firm, lingering kiss.

You looped an arm around his neck, sighing softly and melting against him. Priorities briefly forgotten as your fingernails raked lightly down his back, he tugged you closer by your hips and pressed you back against the cabin wall, pushing his tongue into your mouth, hands under the hen of your shirt—

Until a grating CRASH sounded outside, and the small ship lurched violently, immediately breaking your lips apart. He tightened his grip on your waist until the ship grew steady, registering what had happened as the pair of you heard the sounds of shouting and commotion outside. He gritted his teeth, lying his head back with a heavy sigh.

"I believe we've arrived."

"Oh—" Your eyes widened as his meaning truly sunk in. "Oh, sh—"

You shoved away from him, hurrying to push open the door to the deck as Mihawk placed a hand against the wall, pinching at the bridge of his nose. This day was not at all panning out how he had hoped it would—a potential kidnapping, arguing, and now crashing a brand new ship into a town full of Marines. He glanced over when you heaved a sigh of relief and leaned in the doorframe.

"Looks like we just hit the dock," you said, running a hand back through your hair.

"Is that all?" he replied dryly as you headed out onto the deck. He heard the sails lowering as he collected his wits and crossed the room to grab his coat.

"Doesn't look like there are any major damages," you called back.

"No damages?!" Mihawk paused in pulling on his coat, glancing toward the doorframe to see you peering over the railing at the bow of the sloop, as a particularly surly Marine cadet with cropped yellow-blond hair stood overhead on the dock shouting. "You've taken out two of the supports! Are you completely daft?"

You looked up at the cadet. "Not completely," you replied to him pleasantly. "And I assure you I'm more than happy to provide compensation."

"Oh, yes, because a teenage girl in a rowboat can afford the Berry required for structural repairs on an entire dock."

"I'm twenty-four." The pleasantries were quickly leaving your tone. Mihawk quickly strapped Yoru to his back, hellbent on keeping this from turning into any more if a scene than it already was. "And it's hardly my fault that my rowboat is more structurally sound than your dock, sir. Who's in charge here? I would prefer to speak with them directly rather than stand here and be insulted."

"As a senior cadet serving directly under Vice Admiral Garp, I am in charge here, miss."

"Sounds like he wanted you as far away as possible. Can't say I blame him—"

"I will have you know that I—"

"(Y/N)." You jerked your head over your shoulder as Mihawk stepped onto the deck, glancing at the cadet. Up close he recognized the boy as the son of the ex-Captain Axe Hand Morgan, though his name didn't come to mind. Clearly the self-righteous twig recognized him however, as his jaw fell open mid-sentence. You gave a small snort of laughter that you attempted, unsuccessfully, to pass off as clearing your throat. "Finish getting your things, I'll handle this."

"He called my ship a rowboat."

"I'm aware," he said wearily. He place his hand on top of your head and pushed you back a couple steps. You pursed your lips, tossed one last glare at the surly cadet, and stalked off toward the cabins. Mihawk turned his gaze back to the cadet, who stood at attention immediately on the damaged dock. "I'm afraid my associate and I were discussing business and lost track of how close we were to land. Fetch your shipright and have him write up an estimate. I will provide compensation to the vice admiral directly."

"O—of course, sir. My apologies—"

"And send word ahead to Garp that I have arrived. I would prefer not to linger here any longer than necessary."

"S—Sir."

The cadet gave a quick salute and hurried off as quickly as his feet would carry him. Mihawk rolled his eyes and turned, leaning against the back of the bow and crossing his arms while he waited. At least the ship itself had suffered no damages—as he had expected, given the strength of the hull's armor—nor had it hit any other vessels. It was a small blessing, if nothing else.

You emerged from the cabins with your daggers at either side of your belt, the head of a lion carved into each of their ornate ivory hilts that resting at your waist, your belt satchel strapped around your thigh and your throwing knife sheaths around your oposite calf. You were still pulling up one of your brown leather boots as you crossed the deck.

"What a mess," you commented, leaning against the bow next to him and cringing at the sight of the lop-sided dock. He watched you drop your hat onto your head from the corner of his vision, an old and tattered leather tricorne that you refused to replace as much as you refused to discuss its point of origin. "I'll pay for the damages. Being that it's my ship and all."

"If you insist on it, we will split the cost," he said. You glanced at him, frowning. "We're both responsible for losing track of time."

"Fair," you admitted, chuckling a little. "Fifty-fifty it is, then. I'm going to get a head-start on resupplying."

As you put a leg-up on the railing, Mihawk wrapped a hand around your wrist to stop you. You glanced over, frowning curiously.

"You'll be careful," he instructed. "I am under contract with the World Government, but you are not. Keep your head down." You had made your distaste for Marines clear on more than one occasion, and your interaction with Morgan's son minutes earlier did nothing but prove it. "Cadet or otherwise, don't get yourself into any unnecessary altercation."

"I'll be fine," you said confidently. He lifted an eyebrow at you, making his skepticism known. "I will. I've managed to avoid ending up with a bounty for six years. I'm not going to ruin that by making a scene right outside a Marine base."

"Good." He let go of your wrist, turning to the side to watch you climb onto the railing and hop over to the ruined end of the dock. "Out of curiosity," he added slowly, and you looked down over your shoulder, "how have you managed to avoid accruing any bounty?"

"Ah, well, that's the beauty of working as a mercenary, isn't it?" You crouched down, crossing your arms over your knees and leaning forward slightly over the bow, smiling. "Keeping a low profile. I've never spent long enough with any single crew to gain notoriety."

"Then what a lucky little thing you've been." He leaned forward against the bow, glancing around to ensure that no one was nearby, and then curled a hand behind the nape of your neck to briefly press his lips to yours. "Just be careful."

"I promise not to cause you any unnecessary paperwork," you said lightly, smirking. You pressed your lips to his once more before pulling back, his hand slipping away from your neck. "Hopefully your master won't keep you too long."

His mouth turned down in a frown as you grinned. "Don't push it, dear."

"Woof woof."

It took every ounce of his self-control not to seize you by your wrist and pull you right back onto the sloop—but he refrained, shaking his head a little as you straightened out. Your present locale was a bit too public, but it would be a different story when he had you alone later.

You cheekily blew a kiss, and Mihawk lifted an eyebrow, waving one hand in a shooing motion.

"Oh, so cold," you sighed, poking your bottom lip out in a small pout.

"I'd prefer to wait for the real thing."

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly, and his eyes trailed after you as you strolled down the dock and toward town. Still infuriating and intriguing in euqal measure, but Mihawk knew you were capable of handling yourself. If you detested Marines as much as you claimed, there was no doubt you would handle your business in town and return to the docks as quickly as possible.

The shipwright arrived minutes later, an old amicable and heavily bearded man who quickly assessed the damages to the dock and quickly wrote up an invoice. After maneuvering the small ship to the neighboring undamaged dock Mihawk carried a small chest of berry over his shoulder to the Marine base at the center of the town, and turned down escort to the vice admiral's office; he knew his way around well enough.

A cadet opened the door when he knocked, and left after him. Mihawk dropped the chest onto the heavy desk at the center of the sprawling office before rempving Yoru from his back. He took a seat, reclining back in the chair across from the old vice admiral, staring levelly at him.

"For the damages at the docks," said Mihawk, gesturing toward the chest as Garp briefly lifted the lid and looked back across the desk. "The estimate was twelve thousand. You'll find at least fifteen. For the inconvenience."

"Good enough." He push the chest aside to one end of the desk, and leaned forward against it. "You know why I asked you to come by, Mihawk."

"I'm afraid you'll have to enlighten me." He crossed one of his ankles over his oposite knee, folding his hands together. "I presume it must be important. I have a perfectly good transponder that could be utilized for lesser matters."

Garp leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand into his eyes in clear frustration. "The past couple assignments you've been assigned," he said. "You've sent someone else to complete them."

"I have," he allowed, and lifted his eyebrows. "As I know your other Warlords have done plenty."

"The other six Warlords have crew that are known by the World Government. You don't." Garp leaned an elbow into the arm of his chair, his brow furrowing. "I've heard a few descriptions. I also know the girl's in town. I could send word right now for her to be brought in on sight." Mihawk's brow furrowed as well, his posture tensing the slightest bit, watching as Garp shifted forward again and picked up a pen from his desk. "If you're taking associates under your wing, it's as much your business as it is the Wirld Government's business." He tapped at the paper in front of him, glancing down at it. "Young woman. Late teens to early twenties. Between five-foot-two and five-foot-four inches tall, carries two daggers and a handful of throwing knives. Sound accurate so far?"

"Yes," Mihawk replied through his teeth as he watched Garp write, all at once wondering just how much he honestly valued his alliance with the World Government. One single wrong answer, one wrong move, and Garp could send word down to have you taken into custody. For years Mihawk hadn't had a thing to worry about where this alliance was concerned. Nothing that could be held against him.

He drew in a slow breath, fighting to keep his temper in check in the confines of the vast office.

"Is there anything else?" he asked lightly, lifting his eyebrows.

"Brown leather tricorne hat," Garp went on, his eyes level with Mihawk's. He set the pen down. "A square patch sewn onto the left side of the brim. Couple more on the back." He lifted his eyebrows as Mihawk's drew down in a sharp line. "Hates Marines with a burning passion, I'd guess."

He still kept his mouth shut, his eyes locked onto Garp's as the old vice admiral stared back.

"Your honesty on the subject is tantamount to this girl's continued freedom," he said.

"Yes," Mihawk said again, finally. "I can't seem to see the issue here. She doesn't have a bounty."

"And she won't." He watched Garp pick up his report and crumble it into a ball. He tossed it across the desk, and Mihawk caught it. "So long as the correct people remain in power and she doesn't do anything stupid."

Mihawk glanced at the ball of paper in his hand, and back across at Garp. "Why?"

"She hasn't said?" He gave a hearty laugh. "Ask her how the Marines ruined her life. I'd bet you'll get quite an earful." He shrugged a shoulder. "Or a dagger to the throat, if she takes after her grandmother."

You had mentioned being raised by your grandmother—and being trained by her. Garp bent down in his chair slightly, pulling a drawer out behind his desk, and shutting it. He straightened back out and slid a yellowed old sheet of paper across the desk, torn and crumbled and faded.

A wanted poster. Mihawk lifted it from the desk, scanning over it, over the picture and the name beneath, his brow lifting a bit at the bounty—two billion, six hundred thousand berries.

"Helena Lionne."

At the sketch of a woman that resembled you so remarkably, grinning widely, tilting back the tricorne hat atop her head with an equally familiar dagger. Mihawk glanced up to see the old vice admiral lighting a cigar.

"They called her 'The Siren,'" he said. "She was the big game in town before Roger. We lost count of how many Marines she either killed or seduced. Only reason her bounty didn't rival Roger's is because she never attacked us unless we went after her first. Came out of nowhere, took the Grand Line by storm for a few years, then vanished. As good as anybody can guess now, that was when she decided to start a family. Settled down in a little village on an uncharted island with half of her crew and spent decades off the radar.

"The Admiral that finally found her ten years ago had a personal vendetta. She'd killed his father in front of him while she was still active and then personally delivered his head on a pike to the World Government Headquarters as a warning. They fought it out for a couple days. Destroyed the whole village before he got a hold of her granddaughter and used her as leverage. He never planned on taking her in alive. Slit her throat right in front of the girl and carried her head back to headquarters, along with a few members of her crew that managed to survive, and left the kid there to rot just to add insult to injury."

Mihawk's eyes only left Garp occasionally to glance back down at the old bounty poster. The woman who had raised you. Who you had witnessed murdered and decapitated by a psychotic Marine admiral driven by revenge ten years ago before being left to die simply for sharing her blood.

And now you were wandering a town full of Marines on your own.

God dammit.

"It didn't sit very well with his superiors," said Garp, as Mihawk folded the wanted posted and stuck it in his pocket, remaining silent as he waited for the man to finish. "None of it did. He and the entire crew he took along for the ride were stripped of their merit, discharged, arrested for murder. It took two weeks of interrogation for him to give up the location of the island. Took a few more days to get there from Marineford. Whole island was practically a rock. Not even damn tree left standing. Fourteen year old girl on her own for two and a half weeks, I figured she'd be dead, but her grandma apparently taught her a little more than anyone expected." He shook his head with a scoff, puffing on his cigar. "Little shit had made a spear to catch fish out of a throwing knife and a shovel handle she found in the wreckage. She was halfway finished building a goddamned raft. Kicked and fought the whole way back to the ship. We had to put her in the brig and take her knives because she was threatening to kill any and every Marine she could get her hands on. We still hadn't even figured out what to do with her when she managed to charm some poor fifteen year old cadet into stealing her weapons back and helping her escape on a dinghy. Just as bad as her damned grandmother. I figured she was dead meat then, but I guess she's done pretty well for herself."

"So it seems." Mihawk had no trouble keeping a straight face and a calm demeanor in almost any situation. His stoney expression didn't shift or twitch once while he listened, his posture remaining relaxed as he leaned back in the chair with his hands folded over his stomach. Yet the more Garp said, the more anxious he was growing to get back to you. "As much as I love our little chats, Garp, I do have prior engagements. I'm sure you didn't call me all the way here to just to provide me anecdotes about my, ah, assistant's personal history."

"Yeah, yeah," said Garp gruffly. "You've got a few assignments." Cigar clamped between his teeth, he shifted a few papers around on his desk and found a thick envelope. He tossed it across the desk at Mihawk, who lifted a single hand and caught it without any real effort. "They'll have you headed for the Grand Line. Off the record, I'd appreciate it if you kept an ear out for anything about Luffy. If he you hear he's come in contact with Fire Fist Ace, give me a call."

"Is that all?" Garp held his hands out and gave a short nod, leaning back in his chair and pulling his cigar from his mouth. "Good." Mihawk stood, lifting his sword from beside the chair. "I wish I could say it's been pleasant seeing you."

"Ah, yeah, same to ya." He sighed, making a shooing motion toward the door. "Cold bastard."

"Yes, well." He finished securing Yoru to his back, glancing at Garp. "One doesn't become known as one of the most powerful men in the world by behaving like a bleeding heart fool. That being said...."

He rest his elbow on the back of the chair for a moment, leaning to the side against it.

"Your old psychotic comrade." Garp puffed at his cigar, waiting. "I assume he's the one who gave her the scars?"

"Scars?" He took one last puff, putting out his cigar and furrowing his brow. Garp shook his head slowly. "Well, she had one when we found her. Here." He tapped the side of his neck, a couple inches away from a major artery. "He gave her that one. Planned on slitting her throat if Helena didn't cooperate. Apart from that...." He shook his head and shrugged. "Can't say I'm aware of any others."

Mihawk tapped at the back of the chair for a moment. As clearly perplexed as he was, there was no doubt that Garp was telling the truth. Answers that only led to more questions—this run-around was quickly getting old. He straightened back out.

"I shall contact you once I've finished my chores," Mihawk said finally, waving the envelope before tucking it into his coat. Garp just rolled his eyes, making another shooing motion.

"Feel free to let the door hit you in the ass on the way out."

"Of course."

As soon as he emerged into the empty hall outside the office and shut the door, Mihawk leaned against the wall and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with a quiet growl of frustration. His head was beginning to pound at the onslaught of information Garp had shoved down his throat in the duration of their brief meeting.

Your history, the beginning of your life outside the confines of the law was stained in blood and riddled with the horrors of man—and yet you hadn't mentioned a word of it before strolling off into a town infested with Marines. Nothing except the fact that you detested them and wished to conclude your business here as quickly as possible, indicating that those old wounds weren't entirely healed.

And still no answer to explain those damned scars—and he doubted you were going to open up to that discussion very easily.

(Ch. 3)