#i'm sorry morgan lol

[curamorte]

【 @painofhumanity 】 ♡ ｡°. ᅳ morgan johnson.

       ❝ You know, I never mind covering for you, but, ❞   a hefty sigh as she unlocks the heavy door clasp. She pulls Morgan's tray out from the cadaver rack and leans on the edge a little.   ❝ one of these days you're going to get left in here overnight, and these don't open from the inside. ❞

[starblaster]

it is completely fucking laughable that people watch those videos on wired magazine’s youtube channel about spies with the former CIA chief of disguise offering commentary on spy movies and tv shows and lots of trivial stuff to offer the “real facts” about spying and secret intelligence as if literally anything she says can be trusted

[mysticmoondancer]

What if Ethan had developed a really bad fear of Jesse due to being so traumatized after what happened at the dance that he can’t stand to be in the same room as him or starts to freak out at the sight of him? Which isn’t easy considering now Jesse wants to be a good guy (or at least a somewhat better version of himself), so he starts hanging out with the gang (who have all forgiven him for his past evil deeds). You know, as friends. But it’s like...hard on Jesse every time he sees Ethan so terrified of him now, all because of what happened at the dance. And like...he really wants to make amends with Ethan and be friends.

And maybe later on, Ethan eventually is able to get over his trauma of that night and actually start to warm up to Jesse just a bit and the two start to become friends.

[iamthepulta]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹!!

���Relief’ was the wrong word to describe how Westlie felt after a week of living with Lizzie on their own. A weight had been lifted from her chest, but now she was seeing for the first time too. It was like she’d put on magic glasses and the world was suddenly full of roses with thorns. She was still stuck walking through the briars. But she could touch them. She could see them. There was no Arthur trimming off the flowers whenever she got close; no Mary to tease her about every invisible cut and tear. When she scraped a thorn, she bled- and she could feel the pain now, watch the blood run down her arm, feel the determination course through her to reach the rose again. Challenges didn’t seem like they’d be freeing, but she was making the choice to chase them, she was the one in control; the world had moved on from the events of last week and she was left a changed woman in an unfamiliar city; the chains were gone, she was just… Westlie.

The first day of her new job, Westlie woke up, dressed, and started to pull up her hair up from habit when her arms hesitated. There wasn’t a mirror in the little apartment, but she could imagine herself as she stared at the wall: slender, pale, nervous, a curl of red hair over her right cheek; the vest, the skirt, the defiant chin; frightened eyes, sister-less, a guardian, a runaway; free. She wasn’t Westlie from Fairweather anymore and she didn’t want to look it. Free. Westlie’s arms ached a bit, but she didn’t move, just holding the word in her heart.

She was free, wasn’t she? That thing, that word she’d worked to secure for Morgan her whole life- that dream she’d fantasized for Lizzie- she was free to decide whether they should stay or move, free to work for Jamison or any other company, any other goal. She could be a navigator if she wanted. She had the license. She could do it. She could try.

Old-Westlie, the woman in the mirror with the long curls, the hand with the hairpins, with the practiced, ruthless efficiency- that was the person she had been. Westlie made her way over to her carpet bag in a haze. She had a little travel sewing kit with thread scissors. She took them out and raised them to her hair, chopping a curl off at neck length before she could process what she was doing. 

She immediately saw herself in the mirror again, caught in the act, scissors raised like a shield, lop-sided, frightened, new. Like a sculpture she couldn’t see the final form of, even in her mind’s eye. She didn’t want to be the same, but it was terrifying to change. Old-Westlie was a coward, she thought to herself. Old-Westlie might still be with Arthur if she hadn’t run with Lizzie; angry, sulking, bitter, but there. It was Morgan who bought their freedom this time. ... Where was Morgan? Westlie hacked at her hair until it was all the same length and she looked in the imaginary mirror again.

Short, curly, red, pale; brown eyes, chewed lips. … she didn’t feel free now, she just felt… she felt… Not-Westlie, and she didn’t know if that was good, or bad, or wrong, or right, or if she was just a woman trying so hard to grab the roses she saw, she didn’t care how many thorns cut her skin.

Arthur would say she looked unprofessional. Westlie swallowed and tucked a curl behind her ear. Arthur would say she wasn’t worth the work she did. … But Arthur wasn’t here, was he? He was gone and the no-longer heir to Fairweather was left standing in shoes she didn’t know how to fill. She could do it though. Westlie whispered confidence to herself in the imaginary mirror, trying not to think of the shoddy apartment and the stench of honey she’d never be able to get out of her nose. She could do it because she had a new job and a new employer, and she would find Lizzie a new apartment and she was going to make it wonderful because Lizzie should be free. And it started here; it started now, with New-Westlie.

New-Westlie took a breath, softly tapped Lizzie’s nose while she slept in, and stepped out into the musky, London briars to gather some roses.

-=-

Really want to thank you for this one because it kicked my butt into adding to Chapter 17. I’m stuck on getting started, lol. This helped get me into the headspace. :)

[nereidprinc3ss]

light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers. 

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door. 

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this. 

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door. 

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth. 

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up. 

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it. 

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety. 

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement. 

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care. 

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves. 

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone. 

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you. 

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are. 

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh. 

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex? 

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours. 

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly. 

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it. 

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now. 

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it. 

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt. 

"Goodnight," he whispers back. 

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that. 

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

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache. 

But you’re just friends. 

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away. 

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep. 

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt. 

Friends. 

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.  

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer. 

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips. 

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away. 

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words. 

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing. 

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words. 

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you. 

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment. 

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again. 

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses. 

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck. 

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there. 

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later. 

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you. 

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you. 

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum. 

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders. 

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs. 

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans. 

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want. 

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close. 

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course. 

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty. 

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway. 

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently. 

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt. 

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about. 

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further. 

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway. 

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know. 

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words. 

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you. 

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation. 

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating. 

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation. 

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes. 

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet. 

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb. 

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing. 

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter. 

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck. 

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you. 

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure. 

[reidsaurora]

"Overnight" ~ S. Reid

Summary: When Spencer offers to clear out a drawer for Y/N in his dresser, it has him explaining some things he'd been hiding from her.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader (i think? i don't remember using pronouns in this lol)

Word Count: 814 why is she so short

Content Warning: allusions to sex but nothing in detail, mild mentions of nudity i guess, this whole fic is basically aftercare lol, lmk if i missed anything!

Genre: Fluff, what else did you expect out of me?

Extra Notes: i truly meant for this to be posted on time, i'm so sorry guys

Based On the Prompt: "The Things In That Drawer" from this year's @domaystic prompts

Originally Written: 05/08/2023

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold (i love you literally so much)

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Nothing could get Spencer Reid in a sappy mood like a night of slow, passionate sex. Something about moments like these—the way he showered you in kisses, the sweet compliments he'd give you, the love he'd show you—just felt right. Like his embrace was exactly where you needed to be.

Spencer's hand settled on the soft skin of your hip, drawing various shapes with his fingertips. Your head rested against his chest, your hand moving up to his tummy. He placed a soft kiss on your hair, the scruff of his five-o'clock shadow scratching against your forehead lightly. "I love nights like this," he told you.

You craned your head to face him, kissing his cheek. "I do too. I just hate that it always ends so quickly," you said, thinking about the work nights where you had to head home early, not quite ready for the night to end but knowing that you needed to go home for a change of clothes.

"You know," he said, pausing to flip the two of you over, his body hovering over you, "I could always clear a couple drawers out for you."

Your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. You'd been hinting at the idea for a while, lamenting about needing fresh panties or complaining about missing your skincare regimen. But Spencer hadn't seemed quite ready to take that step yet, so you didn't pressure him.

"Wait, are you serious?"

He nodded, bending down to kiss you on the lips this time. "I'll even let you pick out which one you want."

You practically pushed him into the floor as you jumped up. Spencer chuckled as you ran over to the dresser, pulling his boxers back on.

You pulled out the second drawer, where you knew his tee shirts were, grabbed one of his giant ones and tossed it on. "Any of them?"

"Mhm," he hummed, walking over and settling his hands on your waist. "Whichever one you want."

You considered it, eventually deciding on the bottom drawer. "What about-"

"Wait, Y/N, don't-" he shouted, reaching out to stop your hand.

He was too late, though. You pulled open the drawer, revealing an entire drawer of nerdy memorabilia. The lightsaber was the first thing that caught your eye, followed by a sonic screwdriver, and a couple geeky Pop Figures, among other things.

"You have a lightsaber," you examined.

Spencer scratched awkwardly at his neck. "Yeah, I guess I do."

You grabbed the lightsaber from the drawer, your face lighting up as you turned it on. "You have a lightsaber!"

He chuckled as you poked him in the ribs with the lightsaber. "You're having too much fun with this."

You set the lightsaber down on top of the dresser, turning back to the drawer. Next, you pulled out the infamous Jason Voorhees mask, holding it in front of your face. "Please tell me you've scared your coworkers with this."

Spencer let out another chuckle, taking the mask from your hands. "I got Morgan with it one time. He nearly choked on his coffee."

You continued snooping through the drawers, sifting through Polaroids of Spencer and his friend Penelope at various conventions, some D.C. comics, and a couple signed posters. Your heart nearly flipped when you spotted a picture of him dressed as the Joker. "Who did your face paint?"

"You're loving this, aren't you?"

A squeal escaped your lips as you threw your arms over his shoulders. "Spence, this is adorable! Why would you hide this from me?"

He sighed, somewhere between relieved and exasperated. "I didn't want you to think I was weird. I mean, I'm a grown man and I have a collection of legos and Batman comics?"

"Spencer, I think it's cute that you have something you love so much. You don't have to be afraid to show how much you love and support it."

He bent forward to kiss you again, pulling your body flush against his. "You really mean that?"

"I mean, any man that has the balls to wear makeup like that in public is sexy in my book," you kidded.

Spencer diverted your attention back to the drawer, pointing his chin toward the dresser. "Is that really the drawer you want?"

"Does it come with all the nerdy memorabilia?" you teased, poking his chest.

"In your dreams. I spent good money on those things." He rolled his eyes, leading you to the bathroom. His hands were warm and big on your bare skin, the feeling absolutely heavenly. He placed a trail of kisses along your shoulder up to your head before hooking his chin over your shoulder.

You lifted your head to face him, kissing his jaw. "Hey, does this mean we can go as the Joker and Harley Quinn for Halloween?"

"You know what? I think that might just be something out of my dreams."

-> taglist: @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @kbakery @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @cat-lockwood @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @mente-sindescanso @reverieofmgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia @reidselle @thevisionthedream @dungeons-are-too-cold @wwwonzeee @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahalstead5021 @cwritesforfun @soapiebear @maelartasch @buckyyyismahhlife @cynbx @hellooitsrose

[ethansluvbot]

hotch unconsciously favouring new bau!reader and she doesn’t even notice 😭😭 she just thinks he’s super sweet and everyone is like 🤨🤨 where’s our special treatment aye?

WHERE DO WE GO NOW | A. HOTCHNER

warnings: mostly fluff, but a kiss?

an: SORRY I TOOK SO LONG HOPE YOU LOVE IT, ignore how bad im at writing like technical fbi stuff lol

as he returns to his seat on the jet, hotch gives you a pack of food and some water. you put your earplugs back in after grinning and thanked him. morgan smirked at his boss's strange actions, but he remained silent.

"all right, let's briefly review the case's facts. while morgan and prentiss travel to the M.E., jj and reid head to the crime site. y/n and i will head over to receive a briefing. okay, everyone, let's get going."

you smooth your dress down and collect your belongings, trailing hotch in the process. as soon as you enter, he opens the door for you and goes inside for a briefing.

"the victim's boyfriend last spoke with shelby at 9:02 p.m. we spoke with the bartender at jack's bar, where she was around for the majority of the evening at 9:30. we are currently obtaining the security footage from her. tell my staff or me if you need anything."

spencer said as he left the room, "i'm going to call garcia and ask for access to the security cameras sooner rather than later."

"how's jack doing?"

"he is doing well! he does, however, truly miss you, especially your homemade chocolate chip cookies."

"does he miss the cookies or do you?" you chuckle.

Thinking to himself, "I will not answer that question," you smile and wondered who else he let his guard down for. we was always open to you, even though he never discussed his past with others.

"what would you say about you, jack, and I visiting the aquarium? ever since you got him that ipad, he has been telling me about dolphins, and i get texts all the time."

as he takes a sip of coffee, reid enters the room and says, "garcia has found the camera footage. what did I ruin something?"

1 HOUR LATER

"as of right now, it appears that the unsub prefers women who are between the ages of late 20 and early 30. Every victim carries a huge risk, and I think he enjoys the possibility of exposure. kidnapped from bar parking lots despite the fact that his face is constantly hidden. he has a dark-colored van and it's clear by the signature he injures the victim, since he has a long-term damage of his own.

"y/n i would prefer if you would lay low on this case, you fit the profile and i don't want anything to happen to you."

"are you certain? given the profile, it could be the greatest option for us."

he nods while leaning back in your chair, knowing that he thought too highly of you to see you be in harms way. you have no idea how much more than you realized he cared for you.

"fine, do not put yourself into a situation where you know it will end bad."

the remaining members of the team carrying on the discussion regarding the unsub's actions. garcia chiming in with men who match the description. you gently brush your hair away from your face and glance at the hotch. even though you quickly avert his gaze, you can still feel his eyes on you.

"i'm sorry to break this terrible news, but I believe there is a match for this suspect. i'm sending you travis's records and the last two address on file." the group leaps up and sprints towards the available cars. together, you and hotch jump into the car navigating your way to his address.

you get out of the car as soon as you get there. as you search the house, some of the team arrives, and you head upstairs. Your mouth is grabbed by a hand and you are slid into a room. you fall as a result of your head slamming into the wall.

you were able to get up and cause him to lose his balance by kicking the back of his knees. your body reverts to its limp form. travis limps his way back toward your body. there's a shot, and you reach for your gun. You turn to face the hotch, who is gripping his gun.

You say, "thank you," as he helps you leave the house. doctors are rushing to your side right away. hotch stays by your side throughout the whole thing. It is a blessing to have someone who is as concerned as he is.

He asks in jest, "so you still up for the aquarium?"

TINY BONUS

With your earbuds in but the volume down enough to hear the entire conversation, the team continues to tease you on the flight back. "Where's our special treatment?" you chuckle to yourself in private.

[cowboydisaster]

Allo, Love! This is a prompt for your Christmas countdown. I’m thinking a snowball fight is needed. It can involve the whole gang at some point or just reader and Arthur. Maybe Arthur is grumpy cat and reader pelts him with a snowball and then another one, testing his patience until they end up wrestling in the snow. Then they end up getting a cold and are sick for Christmas. Hosea has to look after them both as they sit miserably by the fire.

Just a thought, no pressure.

🎄❤️

* ˚ ✦ Snowfall * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 1k a/n: sorry that this was late, i was so tired after work last night lol. Thank you for the lovely prompt, it is so cute!!

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: SIX days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

“You see any movement?” Arthur asks, eyes flush against a pair of binoculars, scouting the white hills below for some game to bring back to camp. He's intensely focused, in predator mode as his eyes stalk over the valley in search of prey. He continues following the planes of the hills, seeing only small game. It’s been a tough winter, but you seem to be out of the thick of it by now. 

It's a cold day. The ground is covered with a heavy layer of snow, and thick, ornate snowflakes trickle down from the overcast sky, dusting everything in white. The snow makes it easier to spot any tracks, as long as fresh snow doesn't fall on top of them. 

“Darlin’?” Arthur asks when you don't respond, eyes never leaving the hills. He sighs, a bit annoyed. You've been very little help on this trip.

His eyebrows furrow, and the binoculars are brought down from his eyes as he begins to turn toward where you were standing just moments ago. 

“Where'd you-” 

Cold, soft snow pelts him directly in the face, splattering across his nose and eyes. Arthur jerks back with shock, wiping the snow away with his arm, as a harmony of giggles surrounds him. 

His eyes meet yours, polar opposite expressions staring back at each other. You're smiling ear to ear, giggling at Arthur's deep set scowl. He grunts and sighs grumpily as he wipes the snow away from his face. The white mare at your side tosses her head in amusement, whinnying lightly as if she’s mocking him with you.

“Really?” Arthur grunts, shaking his head, grumbling, “A goddamn snowball? I'm tryin’ to hunt. Clear as the damn day that you ain't interested in helpin’ out, so if you could kindly knock the horseplay off, I'd appreciate it.” 

Arthur shakes his head, turning back around, quietly mumbling, “Jesus.” to himself at your behavior. He resumes the search, locating the spot down below where he had planted bait. 

Another snowball pelts Arthur, this time right in the back of the head. 

“For chrissakes, quit that, would ya?” Arthur tries to maintain his authority, because he knows that as soon as he cracks a smile, this hunting trip is over. But he can't help it as his frown breaks into a small huff of air, a little laugh escaping from his lips. 

You catch the little act, smirking. He's right where you want him now. Before he can even react, you grab another snowball from your hidden stash and whip it at him, hitting him square in the chest. 

Arthur looks down at the white circle of snow on his chest, painting your perfect shot. 

“Alright, that's it.” Arthur says matter of factly, wiping his hands together before marching towards you through the snow. You laugh, grabbing your pile of snowballs. You're not quick enough to defend yourself, screaming out as he scoops up a pile of snow, balling it up and throwing it right at you. The snowball explodes into flakes of ice upon contact with your arm. 

“Arthur!” You laugh, eyes going wide as you see him coming towards you.

As quick as you can, you throw a snowball, but he dodges it quickly. You gasp as he runs forward and pulls you towards the ground with him. The impact is soft of course, blankets of snow to protect you from the harsh ground. Your laughs ring out, and two curious noses sniff the ground above you, making sure you're okay. Jasper and Sugar conclude that everything is alright and then they trot off together, stopping to bump noses and groom each other.

“Reckon they’re sweeter on each other than even us.” You smirk, your eyes following the horses until they trail back to Arthur’s. His blue eyes bore into your own, overflowing with adoration. 

Arthur doesn’t reply as he pins your hands above your head. His cold nose lines against yours, lips just centimeters from your own. 

“Quit. hittin. me. with. snowballs.” Arthur enunciates every word, beautiful blue eyes staring right into yours, waiting for your promise. You hum, thinking it over, but then your eyes flicker down to his lips, mind becoming aware of the position he has you in. 

“Hmm.” You squint, leaning up, brushing your lips against his, “Sorry, Mr. Morgan. Afraid I can't do that. It's too funny.” You smile. He sighs.

“You're a heap of trouble, y'know that?” Arthur sighs. 

“I like to keep you on your toes.” You whisper, finally bridging the gap between you two. His hands tighten around your wrists, lips pressing together slowly until you deepen the kiss. Arthur hums against your lips, and you wrap your legs around his waist. 

The snow seeps into your coat, but you care none. Snowflakes fall upon you both, dusting you in beautiful sparkling white. 

– – –

“Children! Goddamn children, gettin’ yourselves sick as you did.” Hosea ushers you and Arthur towards the fire, sighing loudly as he wraps you in a blanket and hands you steaming cups of coffee. 

You had started a cough on Christmas Eve, and Arthur had followed shortly after. Now, on Christmas day, Hosea has been assigned the task of taking care of you pair of fools.

“Thanks Hosea.” You say sheepishly, voice hoarse and cheeks pink. 

“Won’t happen again.” Arthur grumbles, eyes cast down. 

You and Arthur share a knowing glance.

“Soon as I’m back in commission, it’s on.” You whisper to Arthur, scooping up a little ball of snow from the log you sit on, balling it in your frozen hands. 

“Dear girl, I heard that!” Hosea calls from across the fire where he crushes herbs for you both. 

Arthur places his hand on your thigh, pulling you closer to him, wrapping you tighter in your blanket. Sitting next to Arthur warms you right up, especially as he pulls you into his side, arms wrapped around you. 

“I reckon all we can do now is get better, sweetheart.” Arthur murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. 

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 03)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): pregnancy, brief talk of abortion, stalker behavior, kidnapping, curse words (this shouldn't even warrant a warning at this point lol) pls lmk if I miss anything

Word Count: 2000-ish

Author's Note: told ya the pt 3 would be here sooner than you'd expect! as always, LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG cause these give me the motivation I need to finish the parts sooner and maybe upload more frequently 👀

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

You always took pride in your ability to predict things correctly. It was one of the best traits that made you a great profiler.

Not this time, though.

This time, your ability to conjure correct predictions just seemed like a big joke that the universe purposefully played out to torture your ass.

The ringtone of your phone's incoming call snapped you back to reality. Without looking at the caller ID, you pressed the green button and brought the device to your ear.

"(Y/L/N) speaking."

"Hey, Beets. Where are you?" came the voice of one Penelope Garcia. "Hotch is looking for you. Are you coming in today?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm coming in. Sorry, it was an emergency. Tell the others I'll be there shortly."

After ending the call, you rushed through the rest of your morning routine as quickly as possible. The three opened boxes on the bathroom sink were thrown into the garbage can in no time. Their contents sitting on the counter, however, required you to pause and contemplate what course of actions you would want to do to deal with the problem at hand.

Upon realizing that this was not the kind of dilemma you could solve in a matter of minutes, you decided to fuck it before dumping the items into the same garbage can.

The three tests with two little pink lines would have to wait.

You had a serial murder case to solve.

If five months ago someone had told you that you'd someday end up carrying the child of Derek Morgan, you would have ordered a psychological evaluation for them right then and there.

The past few days had been a catastrophic turmoil. At first, the irrational anger had devoured you whole. You were this close to calling the company who produced your pills for claiming that they had 99% chance of preventing exactly the kind of mess you were going through from happening. Granted, they had put the minus 1% up there to save face in case anything like this were to ever happen. But what were the chances of you being one of the outliers in that small percentage?

Apparently, a pretty good one.

Then, the panic quickly had taken control and messed up with your head. The endless anxiety of having to bring a child into such a cruel world and bearing the responsibility of raising it, while having witnessed what kind of evil lurked underneath its facade, almost threw you to the brink of insanity. During those moments of fear, you had even entertained the idea of possibly terminating the pregnancy, even going as far as calling the nearest facility to question more about the procedure.

But once the fog had cleared, and you were able to start thinking rationally again, realization soon dawned upon you.

You wanted to keep the baby.

In some curious plot twist, you discovered that the idea of having this baby wasn't as scary as the knowledge of having to face Derek and inform him of the news.

And that was exactly what had been occupying your entire mind: how to break the news to Derek.

You barely even had the guts to talk to him directly anymore. Yet somehow, you had to find a way to tell him that you were pregnant, right to his face, as if you were bringing the news of a new movie that had just premiered in your nearest local theater.

How the hell were you ever going to do that?

And it wasn't like you were worried that Derek wouldn't be supportive about your decision to keep the baby. Even if he was unsupportive, there was nothing he could do to persuade you to change your mind. But Derek--sweet and kindhearted Derek--would never do such a thing. Having lost his father at a very young age himself, there was no way anyone could keep him from taking care of his child, no matter how they came to be in this world.

So, before you could gather your thoughts--and yourself--you had decided to put off telling Derek about your current condition.

"Still nothing, Garcia?" Hotch asked from his place in front of the board.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I've tried everything, but there was nothing else I could uncover from that tape."

The rest of the team was seated around the round table. It had been two weeks since the BAU received the video tape from the UnSub, and Garcia had finally revealed that there was nothing more to be analyzed from the tape despite having only obtained insignificant details out of it.

It also didn't help that the UnSub had been lying dormant since that video was delivered.

"It just doesn't make sense," Rossi said frustratedly. "Why would he stop now? What is he waiting for? This guy gets off on attention. Stopping his theatrics at a time like this doesn't fit his profile at all."

"He must be looking to get his attention from somewhere else," Derek chimed in.

"Yeah, but the question is where?" Reid interjected.

"And what is he planning to do to make sure he gets it?" Hotch let out a long sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright, we're not going to stop just because this guy has. Emily, JJ, try interviewing the victims' families, friends, and the witnesses again. See if they suddenly have something useful for us. Morgan and Rossi, follow up on our other leads. Reid--"

"The case files. I know." Reid nodded.

"Right. And (Y/L/N)--" Hotch pinned his stare towards you, "--I need to talk to you. Thank you, everyone. Dismissed."

"Are you in trouble?" Emily leaned in as the rest of the team scattered out of the room.

"Not as far as I know," you whispered.

As you walked the path to Hotch's office, your mind began searching for the possibilities behind Hotch's sudden request to see you privately. You didn't get to guess for too long, though, as you finally arrived in front of his door almost in no time at all.

"Come on in, Agent. Close the door behind you," he commanded. You turned around to nudge the door closed. "Have a seat."

You didn't spend any time beating around the bush once you had sat down.

"Can I ask what this is about?"

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" Hotch looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "I heard you requested a half day off today."

"I, uh... yes. Yes, I did. Is that why I'm here?"

"No. That is not why you're here." Hotch leaned back against his seat. "You've been distracted lately. You're coming late to work, and you can't seem to focus when you're around."

"I-I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"You should know that I've received concerns about you from the other members of the team."

What?

"Was it JJ?" you asked. "Because if this is about what happened in the bathroom--"

"It was Garcia, actually."

"Oh."

Hotch looked at you curiously. "What happened with JJ in the bathroom?"

"Nothing, sir. It was nothing."

The next few seconds were drowned in silence. The ticking clock on Hotch's desk became the only sound echoing against the walls. Hotch was examining you as if you were a suspect in the interrogation room, and with how much scrutiny was sizzling inside those eyes, you might as well have been.

"They're not the only ones concerned about you, (Y/L/N)," he spoke carefully. "I've also noticed that you haven't been yourself lately. You seem tired all the time. You look paler every single day." Hotch readjusted his tie before continuing, "I know that what we do here isn't easy. This job, it's not for everyone. Sometimes our limits are much smaller than what we thought it would be, and that's okay. If you'd like to put in a request for a transfer, I'm sure I will be able--"

"Sir," you stopped him before he could go on any further. "I don't want to transfer. I like working here."

"Just because you like working somewhere, it doesn't mean--"

"Hotch," you cut him off once more. "I'm pregnant."

The priceless look on Hotch's face at the sudden drop of your announcement would forever be ingrained in your brain.

"What?"

"I found out two weeks ago." You smiled tentatively. "I've been having severe morning sickness, and my appetite has also not been the best. Probably why I look tired all the time. I didn't mean to let my condition affect my work, I'm sorry."

"No, no. That's... wow. You're pregnant." Hotch started to nod as if the news was just beginning to fully settle upon him. "Congratulations, Agent. That's wonderful news. You are... happy, right?"

You smiled at his considerate question. "I am very much. Yes."

"How far along are you?"

"My guess is eight to ten weeks. I'm not so sure. Today is my first ultrasound, hence why I requested for half a day."

And then, by some unknown piece of miracle, Aaron Hotchner started to laugh. A real, actual laugh that had both of his eyes wrinkling in the corners. You didn't even know that he could do that without Jack around.

"When I called you in here earlier, this isn't exactly how I pictured the conversation would go," he admitted.

"Neither did I."

"Well--" He cleared his throat, "--there's, of course, a few things we need to go over in rumination of your current condition, but I'm sure we can manage that some other time."

"Of course, sir."

"And (Y/L/N)?" You stared at him expectantly. "You can come to me if you ever need anything. You know that, right?"

The sincerity in Hotch's declaration nearly brought you to tears. You immediately tried to blink back the emotions before you could make a mess of yourself in front of your boss.

"Of course, Hotch. Thank you."

You got up from the chair and began walking towards the door. Before your fingers could touch the handle, you decided to turn around once more.

"Hotch?"

"Yes?"

"I would appreciate it if we kept this between us for now."

"Of course, Agent." He nodded. "You have my word."

And with that, you exited Hotch's room before heading back straight to your desk.

A few hours later, you were finally returning home after attending the doctor appointment.

Confirming your earlier prediction, the doctor had put the estimated age of your fetus at around ten weeks. According to the internet, your baby was not larger than the size of a mere apricot. It was nothing more than a tiny blob in the sonogram image, but the sight of it alone somehow made you want to break down in tears.

Before you could turn into a sobbing ball of mess, you decided to put the picture right on the front of your fridge.

"Alright, I think that's--"

Thud.

Your head instinctively whipped around at the mysterious sound.

Without wasting another second, your hand immediately reached for the gun tucked safely in your holster. The tiny footsteps you took sounded deafening in the silence of your apartment. You first checked the bathroom, finding it empty with nothing out of the ordinary. The two bedrooms were pretty much the same. Quiet and a little messy just the way that you had left them that morning.

Sighing, you brushed off your paranoia as a result of your overactive hormons and creeping exhaustion.

When you reemerged from taking a shower nearly an hour later, the feeling of dread once again washed over your entire being.

At first glance, not a single thing in the apartment seemed to be out of place. But somehow, the feeling of another presence in the room was indisputable. Your wet feet slowly moved along the floor, careful as to not make as much sound as possible.

Once you arrived in the kitchen, you took in your surrounding, making sure that things really were staying in the places they should have been in.

You were about to sigh in relief until you saw it.

The sonogram image you previously had glued to the fridge.

It was now lying on the floor.

Before you could have a chance to grab the nearest weapon, the door to the second bedroom behind you suddenly began to creak.

"Boo."

That was the last thing you remembered before everything went dark.

[rae-pottah]

"Meanie" "Brat"

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Dom!Spencer Reid x Brat!Reader

Warnings: references to sex, She/her pronouns, established relationship, shitty writing lol

Summary: Being a brat wont help your case.

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

*Y/n's POV*

As soon as I woke up I could feel the cramps in my stomach and the bruises forming on my body, but no matter how I felt I knew I had to get to work, or Hotch wouldn't be happy. But getting up is a problem... as soon as I try to put my feet on the floor, I get pulled back to Spencer's side and hear him groan

"Spence we have work, its time to get up baby"

"mm you know I love it when you call me that" he pulled me closer by my waist, he touched his lips to mine so softly I felt like I was floating above the clouds, I smacked his chest

"We" I smacked his chest again "have" again "work" finally I was let go and we were getting ready

****

We were just getting out the door when he handed me a bottle

"Here's your water, don't forget it's marked for every hour"

"Spencer I haven't even had coffee yet, there is no way I'm drinking water" he gave me a glare and stepped in front of the elevator doors "Fine here you go, I'm drinking it" I took a large sip of the water hoping it would keep him happy for a while "Happy?"

"Very. Good girl." he got in the elevator, I was caught for a moment blushing at his words, just as the elevator doors were about to close "you coming?" he asked with a stupid smirk

----

At work

We had been there for a couple hours, a paperwork day... fun.

"Hey Spence I got that file you needed" I put it on his desk and accidentally knocked off a pen "oops sorry Hun" I bent over to pick it up, but when I was coming up I hit my head on something, it didn't hurt, but it wasn't a pillow, come to find out when I stood up Spencer had put his hand on his desk to act as a bumper, if he hadn't it would've hurt. I just smile gently at him, when I go to turn back to my desk to work more he asks

"is your bottle empty?"

"yes, I just haven't had the time to refill it yet I will once I'm done with this file"

"mm no" he says as he stands and grabs the water bottle from my desk

"Baby, no I said I'll refill it" he goes to the sink in the kitchenette, and brings it back completely full, with a shy smile I thank him and return to my desk

-- 2 and a half hours later--

Grabbing the warm cup in my hands, I bring my coffee back to my desk

"your bottle is still completely full, which is weird because if my memory serves me correctly, I filled this 2 hours 36 minutes and 45 seconds ago." I see Spencer holding my bottle looking at it while sitting in my chair. With wide eyes I immediately turn around finding all of our team looking at our interaction with smirks, even Hotch that sick son of a - "And do I smell coffee?"

"It's Morgan's" I blurt out

"You said that like you reeeaalllllyyyy believed it babe" he turned me around "mm smells good" he peeled it from my hands "mm just like my order, what a coincidence." he looked me deadpan straight in my eyes "drink your water"

"Meanie!" I stuck my tongue out at him, he grabbed my tongue and yanked on it for a split second then let go

"Brat."

@marylovesevanpeters

[lowkeyrobin]

Jock!reader who's like really nice to everyone and has a crush on Ethan and tries to flirt with him while Ethan is tutoring him and FAILS MISERABLY and Ethan just thinks it the most adorable thing ever ahhhh plss🙏

- ♣️

YES YES YES HELLO ♣️ ANON!!! welcome my third child 🙏🙏🙏🙏 literallt love u sm thank you for this pookie

ETHAN MORGAN ; flirty jock and flustered geek

summary ; jock!reader who has a crush on ethan and fails successfully to flirt with him

warnings ; language, cheesey stuff lol, reader is described as a basketball player but can totally be changed, this also isn't that great tbh

word count ; 1k

masterlist

You rest your letterman jacket on the back of the chair you sit on, being greeted by Ethan. He opens his binder to the homework in the Geometry packet, and you do the same, mentally preparing yourself. You notice his white binder is covered in stickers and some reference to vampires, witches, the supernatural, and beyond. Ethan was kind of your friend, you were more than acquaintances but you didn't talk outside of Geometry and English class.

You were one of the very few nice people on the basketball team, or maybe you were just a decent person and didn't judge people all too quickly. Otherwise, you didn't mind needing the tutoring from Ethan, you appreciated it really, if you failed another test you could be at risk for getting kicked off the team and you might lose the opportunity for a scholarship to college.

"Okay, so, what exactly do you need help with?" The brunette asks, looking up at you as he runs a hand through his hair, looking a little nervous.

"I just don't know how to like, figure out what shape they are like, how Mr. D wants us to, and like how to find the second base or the height" You explain, "Like, I know how I just can't remember the like, equations, I guess. And when I do, I get the math wrong"

He nods, "Okay, so, you know how to find the areas and perimeters well enough, though, right?"

You nod.

As he begins to explain how to solve your problems, you notice his orange t-shirt, accentuating the perfectly placed blush on his cheeks, faint but definitely pink. The way he spoke to dumb it down for you a bit but to not infantilize you made you smile a bit, seeing as he cared about your feelings. You notice him rub the nape of his neck, seemingly anxious or nervous around you, or maybe uncomfortable because he didn't know how to teach, like how Mr. D should be teaching you this and not poor Ethan, wasting his study hall for you.

You were already very, very aware of your crush on Ethan Morgan. He was your every thought, he was in your blood, in your ears, in your eyes, and in your tears. (weezer reference)

But, now was not the time to dilly dally about with high school crushes, these next 35 minutes could potentially determine your entire future. You needed this free ride to college, otherwise you'd turn into another old person working a job that pays minimum wage for maximum effort.

As time lugged on, you couldn't help but not focus on your homework and instead focus on Ethan and his gorgeous face. He looks back up at you after asking a question, seeing you were totally zoned out staring at him.

"Y/n?" He waves a hand in front of your eyes, trying to snap you back to reality. (eminem reference, wow I'm on a roll today)

You blink, "Oh, shit, sorry, uh, what'd you say, pretty boy?"

You couldn't even think about the words spilling out of your mouth until after they already fell. Those words hit Ethan like a falling anvil, his face turning bright red as he tries to shrug it off as you were just surprised and trying to be nice to him.

"Uh, this is the equation, uhm, try solving it"

You awkwardly nod, writing down the equation and putting in the numbers with the respective variables. You solve the equation, ending up with 24 for the height. He looks confused, having got a different answer. He scooches over to you, trying to figure out where you went wrong.

"Y'know, you're like a walking calculator. A cute one though" You shrug, he looks at you with a slightly confused and amused face, "I dunno what that even means, sorry"

He nods, "Oh, okay, you I think multiplied by two instead of dividing"

"Oh, whoops" You pick your pencil back up, fixing your mistake.

"There you go!" Ethan smiles, "It's just little mistakes, you'll build on it" He lightly pats your shoulder.

"Did you know Ancient Romans used to brush their teeth with their urine? And it actually worked?" You randomly ask him, fidgeting with your pencil.

Ethan blinks, slightly confused before he lightly laughs. "I hate you, focus on the Geometry, no stalling"

"Do you hate me or are we about to kiss right now?"

"Dude. Did you get that off Pinterest or something?"

"...Yeah"

He hides a laugh and bites his lip, "Okay so you-"

"Damn, are you Terms and Conditions? Cause I'd love to blindly agree to whatever you say"

Ethan quickly covers his mouth, "Shut up!"

You laugh a bit, "Sorry, sorry. I didn't sleep for shit last night and I'm getting frustrated cause I don't understand this"

"You'll learn!" Ethan smiles, shaking you lightly by the shoulders.

Some time later, the bell is about to ring, dismissing you to lunch.

"Thanks Eth" You lightly smile, "Oh, uh-" You reach into your backpack, pulling out some homemade cookies in a plastic Tupperware, handing them to him. "These are for you. I have to go to lunch in a second" You say, pulling your backpack over your shoulders, carrying your binder and pencil in hand.

"Oh- thank you!" He smiles, watching you stand up. The smile falters a bit due to awkwardness, "Uh- I have lunch next period too-"

"Bye Ethan, see you later! Love you, dude!"

Ethan is left confused and slightly shocked, cheeks a little red.

He knew you had a crush on him, he felt the same way, but he loved seeing you miserably fail to flirt with him. You were no romantic, if anything, a hopeless romantic in your thoughts.

He smiles, looking down at the red-lid Tupperware, seeing soft, chocolate chip cookies inside, his favorite.

"Thanks, Y/n," He whispers with a little smile, then gathers up his binder and books, shoving them in his backpack.

He notices a tingling feeling in his face, feeling a familiar warmth on his face as he thought about the nicknames and dumb pickup lines you'd spilled out of your lips that past half hour. God, would he love to kiss those lips of yours. He sighs, realizing he should definitely let you do that some more before he asks about it at all.

Thankfully, he'd been able to have slipped a note into your binder before you left.

"Hey Y/n! If you need any help tomorrow I'll be in the library. Bring your pickup lines with you, and I might help you not get kicked off the team. -Ethan"

[im-yotsu]

Okok general Tales of the Empire thoughs:

• Don't really care about Morgan, sorry

• Grevious was really enjoying being so evil, love that

• They/them jedi, based

• Of course she's a healer 🥲

• Barriss is NOT dead you guys (I will choose to believe this, if you give me an ambiguous ending I'm allowed to) (plus if Sabine can survive that wound, I think a literal jedi healer can too)

• An old friend??? She met Ahsoka again, they're in contact. So, of course, they're in love. (Let me be delulu)

• Why didn't Lyn age at all?? Lol

• Loved seeing the Grand Inquisitor again, with him rooting for Barriss since he was inspired by her in the wrong jedi arc. Pretty underrated character, I'm glad they completely ignored his awful look from Kenobi and went with his rebels design.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

omg, can we maybe see how JJ convinced cowboy to stop smoking?

Description: JJ helps cowboy tackle his smoking addiction

Warnings: Addiction, reader snaps

A/N: Accidentally posted it early again lol

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84

You looked around restlessly, leg bouncing. The only thought in your head was how much you wanted a cigarette. Everything was irritating you and you felt like you were going to explode. The inside of your skin was itching. The inside. How was that even possible?

"Hey," JJ said, joining you in the breakroom. "How you feeling?"

You looked up at her, "Imma level with you, it's all I can think about," You replied. "I ain't gonna touch one though."

JJ nodded, giving you a small smile, "Yeah?" She sat down opposite you, "What's keeping you going? What's motivating you to not go back?"

JJ watched as pink slowly crept up your cheeks, "I don't wanna disappoint you." You quietly admitted.

"Well, luckily for you, I'm hard to disappoint." She reassured, "But I come bearing gifts."

"A nicotine patch?" You joked with a small chuckle.

"No," JJ said, "But I do have sunflower seeds!" She held up a massive bag, "I made Morgan drive me to Costco to get the large pack, I figured you could do with it."

You gave her a small smile, "Thanks," You said as you immediately opened it and grabbed a handful. "I didn't even realise I was this hungry,"

JJ gives you a smile, "I've been talking to Spence, apparently that's normal,"

You nodded, offering her some sunflower seeds, she decline, "Yeah, I had it last time. I would say its not as hard this time, but I think I'm findin' it harder."

JJ gave you a sympathetic smile as she placed a hand on your shoulder, "I know, but, you're going to get through it and you're going to do great."

"Thanks," You replied.

"So you keep saying," JJ teases as she sits down next to you.

"Well, I'm thankful," You shrugged, "You're goin' out of your way to help me,"

"Well, that's what friends do," JJ says almost hesitantly (not that you notice that), not noticing how your face drops, she turns to you with a smile, "We help each other."

You force a smile, "Well, if you ever start smokin' and then want to quit, let me know so I can help," You joke, taking in her expression as she laughs, the way her eyes crinkle, taking in as much as you could.

You don't know what it was exactly. It could have been the case, the lack of sleep, the general irritation you were feeling since quitting smoking but you weren't sure how long you were going to last until you snapped. You were going through nearly a bag of sunflower seeds a day and still felt restless - practically pacing for hours on end and it still didn't feel enough. You just didn't expect for you to snap at her.

She was just trying to help. And here you were.

"Have you-" You cut her off with a loud groan.

"Will you just fuck off? I get it, you're trynna help but you're not my Mama and you're not my girlfriend so just fuck off!" You exclaim, pent up irritability from the last six hours that had built up being released.

You frown as soon as you process what you've said and the hurt look that flashes in JJ's eyes. "I am so sorry..." You voice twinged in regret. "I-"

She covers the hurt the best she can and smiles, "(Y/N), don't worry about it, I understand. You're going through a lot right now."

You shake your head, "No, JJ, that's not an excuse-"

"(Y/N), I understand."

"No, no, don't give me that. Don't be nice to me after I said that-"

"It's fine."

"No!" You exclaim, closing your eyes for a moment, calming yourself. You were frustrated with yourself. Not JJ. "No. It's not fine."

"(Y/N)-"

"No! JJ, don't tell me it's fine, please don't tell me it's, 'cause it's not,"

"You're going through a lot right now-"

"The fuck I am JJ, its one tiny little thing and I snapped at you and that's not okay!"

"(Y/N)-"

"JJ, its not okay."

JJ sighed, "You didn't mean it." She said, "Your body's stressed right now. It's okay."

You looked at her, furrowing your eyebrows, "I'm so sorry."

"I know." She gave a small smile, "Anyways, let's forget about that. How about a trip to Costco for more sunflower seeds?"

"Have I gone through them all already?"

"Yep. Come on, you're driving."

[parasytte]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ masterlist

. . . this post includes links to my ocs descriptions and some of my works. if you scroll down, you will also see my rules and just info about my blog and the taken anon names :-)

❣ DISCLAIMER !!! shorter posts are not listed in the masterlist ,, to find those you can use the tagging system. sorry for the inconvenience !

⌦ .｡.:*♡ AUGUST WELLS ...

❥ introduction post . . .

❥ 'motherly' reader . . .

❥ escaped reader . . .

❥ reader wants children . . .

❥ reader jokingly proposes . . .

❥ reader shows affection by biting . . .

❥ reader who enjoys teasing . . .

⌦ .｡.:*♡ MORGAN HICKKS ...

❥ introduction post . . .

❥ drunk reader . . .

❥ escaped reader . . .

❥ random facts . . .

❥ reader wants children . . .

❥ trying to break up . . .

⌦ .｡.:*♡ JUDE MYERS ...

❥ introduction post . . .

❥ artist reader . . .

❥ escaped reader . . .

❥ sensitive/shy reader . . .

❥ reader wants children . . .

❥ reader catches jude breaking in . . .

❥ reader gifts jude handmade scarf . . .

❥ reader cries after accidentally hurting jude . . .

⌦ .｡.:*♡ ELIJAH CADDEL AND CASEY HAYES ...

❥ first post . . .

❥ reader whos in theatre . . .

❥ anti-social, nerdy reader . . .

❥ yandere nerd rival . . .

❥ questions about elijah . . .

❥ yandere nerd rival p2 . . .

❥ marching band reader . . .

❥ reader doesn't come to school . . .

❥ car breaks down . . .

❥ reader avoids them . . .

❥ reader starts to give in . . .

❥ more about casey . . .

❥ random facts . . .

❥ reader doesn't sit with them . . .

❥ reader gives casey's birthday present to yan!nerd . . .

⌦ .｡.:*♡ PARASYTTE'S HALLOWEEN SPOOKTACULAR (SALEM ESTELLE) ...

❥ salem (yandere witch) . . .

❥ random salem facts . . .

❥ oc halloween post . . .

❥ reaction to someone flirting with reader . . .

⌦ .｡.:*♡ SORIN …

❥ introduction post . . .

❥ courting rituals . . .

⌦ .｡.:*♡ DARCI …

❥ introduction post . . .

⌦ .｡.:*♡ LAURENCE DYSTER …

❥ introduction post . . .

⌦ .｡.:*♡ IVAN MINH ...

❥ reader calling him "good boy" . . .

❥ jealousy . . .

❥ physical description . . .

⌦ .｡.:*♡ EMRYS SAUVETERRE ...

❥ introduction post . . .

⌦ .｡.:*♡ RULES / BLOG INFO ...

❥ friendly reminder that this is a yandere blog. it will include topics like kidnapping, stalking, obsessive behavior, etc. if any of this makes you uncomfortable, feel free to leave :-)

❥ gender neutral reader !

❥ while i write yandere content, i do NOT write works where the yandere harms the reader. like, for example, yan killing reader or physically harming reader.

❥ i also don't write nsft (nsfw).

❥ i dont write scenarios where reader is cheating or the yan is cheating, its just not my cup of tea !! (however, scenarios where yan is kinda a homewrecker is allowed ,, like trying to get them to breakup and be with them instead)

❥ my inbox is open to anything ! if you just wanna talk, it's there ! if you have any yandere ideas don't be shy to share them !! im all ears :-)

❥ if you have any questions, feel free to ask !!

❥ please don’t just send a req saying something like “more [blank]?” if you’re expecting actual fic ! the most you will get is random facts about said oc or me just telling you how many reqs there are of that oc :)

❥ also, it takes me a while to get works done and get them out there, so i'm sorry if your request isnt posted until a month after you requested it lol

⌦ .｡.:*♡ TAKEN ANON NAMES ...

❥ 🧸 anon

❥ fmb anon

❥ sleepy anon

❥ 💗 anon

❥ fox boy anon

❥ just a casual anon

❥ 💤😪 anon

❥ ice anon

❥🌻 anon

❥ 🕯 anon

[margowritesthings]

Good Girl (pt. 1)

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 752

warnings: suggestive, the explicit stuff will come in part 2!, death of a snake, shameless praise kink

a/n: ummmm yeah this is totally because of this video and I'm not even sorry. Ive been in a bit of a block so I thought just a lil drabble about Arthur would help!! Its gotten away from me a bit lol it's turning into a full blown thing but I'm out of my block yay!! as always thank you all for the lovely support and kind words on my work, it means the world <3

tagging: @musicallisto (i can't find the rest of my taglist!! i'm so sorry- please do drop me a message if you'd like to be added)

You spot the predator moments before Arthur does and seconds before his horse, but it is just too late. The snake hisses, Belle rears, and you’re forced to grip onto Arthur’s waist with enough force to surely bruise him. All the air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the grass and you brace yourself for the weight of Arthur landing on top of you. You wince, but the second wave of impact never arrives, Arthur somehow managing to divert his fall to right beside you.

“Goddamn!” He curses, quickly rolling over in a panic to check you over, his large, calloused hands holding your cheeks as his eyes roamed over your features. “You alright?”

You just about manage to nod through his firm, concern-fuelled grip as the pain in your back begins to subside, “I’m fine. It was just a shock.” 

As soon as he knows you’re okay, Arthur turns his attention to Belle, the stunning white mare he loves most in the world (second only to you, of course). She is spooked, bucking and squealing as the serpent on the floor slides ever closer. Arthur is quick to throw the knife down, expertly hitting the poor thing in the head. A shudder runs down your spine as you watch the life leave its body, managing to identify it by the shape of its head as a highly venomous viper. Close call. 

The impact of your fall is still ringing in your ears, so you watch from the ground as Arthur holds his gloved hands up, slowly approaching the steed. His voice is low and gruff as he speaks to her, bravely stepping forwards, never faltering in his steady pace. “Easy girl, you’re alright…”

Belle begins to calm, allowing Arthur close enough to reach out and pat her gently on the neck. She softly neighs, almost nuzzling Arthur protectively. It’s a sight to behold, enough to warm your heart wonderfully. 

“Good girl.”

…oh.

The beating of your heart, originally from the sweetness of the moment, quickens and travels down, past your belly and manifests into being able to feel your pulse between your legs. 

Oh god.

You feel downright wanton, practically panting as you watch Arthur’s tanned hands gently caressing Belle’s neck and only seem to be able to picture them all over you while he whispers sweet praises. Is it weird to feel jealous of a damn horse? It feels so wrong and you’re almost certain your cheeks have become flourished with the deepest crimson but by God do you want to hear him say that to you. You always did love how kind Arthur was to animals, but what you’d just witnessed seemed to have unlocked some carnal need you certainly hadn’t expected to realise when you woke up this morning. 

“You sure you’re alright, darlin’? You ain’t hurt?” Arthur’s brows are pulled together when you drag your gaze from his fingers to his face. His features are saturated with worry and you can’t blame him when you realise you’re still sitting in the dusty mud, mouth agape and eyes wider than plates. You don’t even know how much time has passed, but considering how sedate Belle is, it must have been a while. 

A hand is extended towards you and you take it, letting Arthur pull you to your feet as you nod, “I’m good. Really. Just… flustered.” You reply honestly, though Arthur seems to think nothing of it as his hands grip your hips, helping you onto the saddle. Not that you need the help, but he’s ever the gentleman and you’re pretty sure he likes the excuse to hold you, even if just for a moment. 

There isn’t a verbal agreement that you’re switching places, but when you feel Arthur’s hard chest against your back and his arms snake around your waist, you instinctively shuffle into him and grab onto the reins.

“Shouldn’t be too long before we’re home now, I'll keep watch for any more snakes.” His breath tickles your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and not at all helping extinguish your growing arousal. You nod, nuzzling into him for just long enough for him to pick up on the silent request for a quick kiss on the cheek. It’s not nearly enough, but it’ll have to do for now. You kick your foot against Belle’s side and she sets off into a canter almost instantly, now seemingly feeling herself again. 

“Atta girl.” Damn, it’s going to be a long ride.

part 2

[stephsycamore]

S6 ep8 reflection of desire i love this weird ass episode. Ngl it took me way too long to realize that garcia was acting in a play in that first bit. They literally had me freaking out like omg double life. Lol sorry i'm dumb

The rain during the scene with morgan and prentisss is so cinematic. I love this episode lol its so noir?? Like even morgan and prentiss's delivery of lines is so good

Also when did penelope have time to rehearse a play with the crazy ass job?