misscongeniality18

[misscongeniality18]

If we ever get a shot of Ewan Mitchell’s freckled back as Aemond Targaryen later on in the show I will self combust.

[misscongeniality18]

hi, i was wondering if you could do a wesper x male durast reader, where the reader gets kidnapped by a rival gang and the crows have to save him and hes like hurt so wesper has to take care of him? this is my first ask so idk if you could do that, but it doesnt hurt to ask? thanks in advance.

It never hurts to ask! I've never written a male reader before, but I'll give it my best shot.

Arms - Wesper

Synopsis ! You have been kidnapped by the Dime Lions, and your boys are freaking out about what must be happening to you. Pairing ! Wylan x male!durast!reader x Jesper Genre ! Angst, some fluff Warnings ! Violence, blood, injury, language Word Count - 806

" I hope that you see right through my walls I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling I'll never let a love get so close You put your arms around me and I'm home " - Arms, Christina Perri

Masterlist Request Guide

Jesper was absolutely losing his shit. Wylan, on the other hand, was sitting quietly with his head in his hands, trying not to cry. The Dime Lions had figured out that you were Grisha, and despite your durast abilities, you were subdued and taken hostage.

"Why didn't you tell us, Kaz?" Jesper questioned his boss, anger burning in his eyes.

"I have people working on it now. I didn't tell you because I knew you would freak out like this" Kaz answered, gripping his cane tightly. If he was honest, he was worried too. You'd become a close friend of his, just like a few other members of the Crows had.

"I'm not freaking out!" Jesper exclaimed, throwing one of his beloved hats across the room.

Wylan looked up from the little ball he'd turned himself into. "Yes, you are, Jes. Come here."

With a sigh, Jesper crossed the room and sat next to Wylan, pulling him into a hug. They loved you so much, they would burn the whole city to the ground, and they had the means and talents to do so. Which is why Kaz didn't tell them about your kidnapping until he already had people on the job.

"Boss, they're back!" Rotty announced as he came bursting through the door.

Matthias came into the room with you over one massive shoulder, Nina and Inej following closely behind. The Fjerdan laid you on the table in the center of the room, and that was when the dark stains across your purple kefta became visible.

You’d opted to keep your kefta as a reminder of where you came from, but you rarely ever wore it. The Dime Lions must have found it and put it on you. But why? Why did they need a durast? And more importantly, why you?

Those were questions that could be answered later.

Jesper practically flew as he made his way to you. He pulled at the fastenings to your kefta, hoping that the blood wasn’t yours.

But it was.

Cuts and gashes were spread across your chest, and your face had been bruised and beaten badly. On the other side of the table, Wylan covered his mouth with his hands in horror. Jesper clenched his jaw, balling his fists as he wanted to beat the living fuck out of whoever did this to you.

Nina appeared at Wylan’s side, moving her hands to knit your flesh together again. You squirmed at the itchiness of it, and the men who loved you the most held you still, trying not to look at the bruises around your wrists from the ropes used to bind you.

You’d been restrained and couldn’t even defend yourself from those heathens.

Once Nina was done, everyone left the room to give Wylan and Jesper some time alone with you as you slept. A bowl of warm water had been brought up with some oils to soothe your pain, and they each took a rag to clean the blood off your skin.

Jesper wiped the rag across one of the jagged scars left behind by Nina’s healing, and you jumped in your sleep, your eyes opening slightly, still swollen from the beating you’d taken.

Wylan noticed first, one hand gripping yours and the other smoothing back your hair. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

You opened your mouth to speak but found that your throat was dry. Coughing, you asked for water, and Jesper was more than glad to oblige you.

The cool water ran down your throat, and when you were done, you said, “I’m fine, just a little sore.”

“What did they want with you?” Wylan asked, his voice soft as he clutched your hand to his chest.

You shrugged. “They wanted me to amplify some weapons for them, but I wouldn’t do it, so they decided to punish me until I did. I still refused. Nina, Inej, and Matthias showed up just as they decided they wanted to take my hands. Luckily, they didn’t get that far.”

“You stupid, stupid man,” Jesper muttered, gingerly touching your precious hand that was nestled in his own. “Why didn’t you do what they wanted?”

“You’re saying they wouldn’t have killed me after I did?”

You still had your sarcasm, and Jesper leaned forward and kissed your forehead despite the laughter bubbling from his lips. A drop of wetness hit your cheek, and when you looked up, you saw that he was crying.

“Darling, I would’ve expected Wylan to cry, not you,” you whispered, reaching for the hands of your boys.

“Hey,” Wylan objected even though tears glittered in his eyes.

“Oh, I love you, you know that.”

Wylan smiled. “I do.”

“I love you both so much,” you whispered as you fell back to sleep, feeling safe and at home once you were in their arms again.

Not my best work, but it's still very sweet and fluffy. Wepser has my heart!

[misscongeniality18]

me vs my millions of ideas…peter sutherland x reader best friends fo lovers inspired by fallin for you by colbie caillat <3

Why, of course, my lovely! Enjoy!

Fallin' For You - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! You and Peter are best friends, and you've decided to tell him that you're in love with him. Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x Reader Genres ! Friends-to-lovers, fluff Warnings ! Nothing other than kissing, let me know if I missed something Word Count - 866

" I've been spending all my time Just thinking about ya I don't know what to do I think I'm fallin' for you "

Masterlist Request Guide

As you stood next to Peter at the New Year’s Eve party, you tried very hard not to look at him. You failed, of course. Peter was your best friend, but that wasn’t the reason why you were continuously stealing glances at him.

Over the course of your friendship, from meeting at the coffee shop just a few blocks from your apartment building to celebrating holidays together because neither of you had family in the area—like tonight, with Cisco hosting the party to celebrate the coming new year—you had gone from thinking of Peter as a friend to wanting so much more than that.

You never thought you’d fall for him, but in the past few months, you’d done nothing but think of him. God, you couldn’t stop. Peter occupied your mind as you drove to work, as you cooked dinner, and hell, even as you fell asleep.

This onslaught of intrusive thoughts started perhaps a few weeks after the metro bombing, and for a few reasons. First, Peter had called you, not his fiancée, when he was in the hospital after the accident. That one had puzzled you. Zoe was at home, and you were at work. Maybe it was because you were employed at a hospital, but he still called you first.

Second, Zoe left him not long after the bombing. Packed up her bags and went back to Texas. You had thought she was a nice enough girl, but her leaving didn’t bother you in the slightest, and that was when you realized your feelings for Peter.

Lastly, Peter was always there for you, physically and figuratively. If he didn’t feel like driving all the way to his apartment after a shift, he’d cut out five minutes of his drive and crash at your place. If you were sick, he’d come over with soup and your favorite movies. If you had car trouble, Peter would show up with whatever tools he had and try to fix the problem even though he was definitely not a mechanic.

Peter was a person you’d never had in your life before, and that made you want him even more than you already did.

You wanted to tell him how you felt, how you he was always on your mind, how you had fallen for him hard.

How much you loved him.

You were a coward though, completely pathetic. One minute, you were ready to declare your feelings with no doubts in your mind, and the next, you had your tail between your legs as you ran away. There was never a right time, but as you stood there next to him on New Year’s Eve, you figured that now was a good a time as any.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the clock showed 11:59pm. “Peter,” you called as people around you started to count down.

Peter turned to you, putting a glass of champagne into your hands. “What’s up?”

“I have something to tell you.”

Forty-five.

A worried look flashed across Peter’s eyes, and you laughed, pressing a hand to your chest. “Oh, no. It’s nothing bad. Well, at least I hope not.”

Forty.

“I just wanted to say…God, I don’t even know how I want to say this.”

Thirty-five.

Peter furrowed his brow. “You definitely have me concerned now.”

“You’re my best friend, Peter.”

Thirty.

“You’re my best friend, too,” he replied, a soft smile curling at his lips.

You swallowed, biting your lip. “I don’t…”

Twenty-five.

“I don’t think I want to be friends anymore,” you breathed, wiping the sweat off your palms. Had someone turned up the heat?

Twenty.

Peter, no longer concerned, was filled with confusion. “What do you mean? Did I do something to make you angry?”

Fifteen.

“No,” you insisted, waving your free hand in the air. “No, you did nothing wrong. It’s just…”

Ten.

“I’ve fallen for you, Peter. I don’t want to be friends anymore because I want to be something more.”

Five.

Peter stared at you as the crowd of people began counting down. “You what?”

“I love you, Peter.”

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Everyone exclaimed, except for you and Peter.

You didn’t shout in celebration because you were lowering your head in embarrassment, but Peter’s reason was because he hooked a hand around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss.

When his lips touched yours, you gasped in surprise, and Peter took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He was soft and gentle and tasted of champagne and mint. The cheers around you disappeared into nothing as you and Peter began the new year in each other’s embrace.

Peter pulled away, the cheers dying down, and looked into your eyes, a mischievous gleam sparkling in his own. “We must think alike,” he said.

“Why?”

He grinned, setting butterflies loose in your stomach. “Because I had planned to tell you that I love you, too, only after midnight.”

“I guess you were too late,” you replied teasingly.

Peter shook his head, tugging you towards him again. “Better late than never,” he mumbled as he kissed you again, Cisco hollering in delight at his two friends finally getting together.

It may be a little short, but it's full of fluffy goodness.

[misscongeniality18]

Hi! I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS SO MUCH SO I'M HERE AGAIN! This time I would like to ask you to write something about Kaz Brekker and reader where she is like a longtime friend and a member of the Crows. The two have always had feelings for each other but never spoke about it so, when they argue because something dangerous happens, the truth comes out and a smut at the end?! I love this prompt so much. I don't know why but I'm so obsessed with best friends to lovers!

OMG girl yes, I love this trope too! This is my first fic with any smut, but I'll try my best! I also didn't mean to make this so long, but it just sort of happened?

Movement - Kaz Brekker (18+, Minors DNI)

Synopsis ! You and Kaz have been friends forever, but lately, you couldn't help but want something more. When the two of you are put in danger's path, both of your truths are out in the open. Pairing ! Kaz Brekker x fem!reader Genres ! Friends-to-lovers, angst, fluff, smut Warnings ! Violence, blood, danger, language, reader is the only one who can touch Kaz, maybe slightly ooc Kaz?, kissing, nudity, sexual content (fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex [wrap it up people]) Word Count - 3047

" When you move

I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be

When you move

I could never define all that you are to me "

- Movement, Hozier

Masterlist Request Guide

You and Inej ran across the rooftops, jumping from gable to gable. Tonight's heist had a plentiful bounty that sat nestled in Inej's pockets. The two of you had been charged with stealing some pieces of the Ravkan crown jewels that had been taken from the palace and illegally sold.

What did Kaz want with stolen jewels? He may be your best friend, but not even you could read his mind. He had tells, of course, as did almost everybody, but Kaz’s past made him especially skillful at hiding them. You knew this all too well.

After all, you had been the one to pull him out of the harbor.

You had been infected with firepox like Kaz and his brother, but Jordie was the only one who perished out of the three of you. You didn’t know them personally at the time, only in passing. When you and Kaz were both dumped into the harbor with the others who had died, thought to be dead yourselves, you had woken up to same horrors of rotting corpses around you and the feeling of cold, mushy flesh.

While you had been around death and illness before—witnessing your parents die of the disease—Kaz hadn’t seen anything like this until then. He’d had to use his brother’s body as a life raft to swim to shore. You’d grown up swimming in a nearby fishing village, so you swam to shore easily. When you saw Kaz struggling, you’d reached out to him, and he’d hung onto you for dear life.

That night had been traumatizing for him, and for years afterwards, he was unable to touch anyone. It took several more years to get him to touch you, and you’d been patient and worked with Kaz to get used to the feeling of skin on skin again. But it could only be you. Anyone else, and he’d be right back in the water.

You were always there to pull Kaz out of the murky depths, witnessing him at his lowest. You were also there to see him in his triumph of leading his Crows and defeating Pekka Rollins. Finally, he could rest, and Kaz wanted to do it with you.

While planning heists, of course.

Kaz didn’t want you going along, and he’d always try to persuade you to stay behind or at least stay by his side. He always had a soft side for you, so he’d usually meet you halfway. You were in the same boat; your connection to Kaz originated from your soul, and you’d do anything to appease him. But tonight, Kaz wasn’t there, so you took the opportunity to join Inej on the rooftops.

You just didn’t expect anyone to shoot you.

Kaz stormed into your room at the Slat, the door slamming into the wall behind him as he took in your white undershirt lifted just enough to reveal the bloodied gash on the side of your ribs. “What the hell happened?”

You rolled your eyes as Jesper held you down while Nina worked to heal the wound in your side. “It’s a scratch, Kaz. I’m totally fine. The bullet didn’t hit anything serious.”

“Bullet?!” Kaz exclaimed in shock. “I was told you fell off the roof.”

Wylan, from his spot in the corner of the room, hummed in opposition. “That was after she was shot.”

You suddenly let out a groan, squirming in Jesper’s arms. Kaz rushed over as fast as he could, ignoring the searing pain in his leg. “Move, Jes.”

Kaz took Jesper’s spot in keeping you still while Nina finished healing you. “It’s going to leave a scar, but you should be fine by the morning. Good thing the bullet never actually went through you.”

“That will be enough, Nina,” Kaz said lowly, and everyone knew to clear the room as fast as they could.

As soon as the others were gone, you sighed, pulling your undershirt down to cover your bandage. “Say what you’re going to say and get it over with.”

“How the fuck could you be so stupid? Joining Inej on the roof, of all places? Why not be with Nina or Jesper on the ground? We all know how clumsy you are, so it was just a matter of time before you fell off, and oh, look. You did!”

You snorted. “Like Wylan said, that was after I was shot.”

Kaz glared at you as he paced the room, leaning heavily on his cane. “That doesn’t make it any better.”

“Nothing ever does. You never let me do anything.” A child-like pout formed on your lips, and Kaz wanted to tuck your bottom lip back in place.

He refrained, however. “I have my reasons.”

“Saints, Kaz,” you huffed, sitting up and carefully standing, trying to keep your bandages in place. “If you’re not going to let me go on jobs, why am I even here?”

Kaz met your eyes, the most intense and unique shade of blue you’d ever seen. “When we were young, we promised to stick together. Don’t you remember?”

You swallowed, memories flashing behind your eyes; pinkies interlocking, teary eyes, and yes, the promise that the two of you had made.

“Of course I remember, you idiot,” you replied, holding out your pinkie finger.

Kaz glanced down at it out of the corner of his eye, dead set on refusing, but he could never say no to you. He sighed, linking your bare finger with his gloved one. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he whispered, deep and low in his throat.

You shook your head, lips turning upwards. “You will never lose me, Kaz. I’m yours forever.”

Something crossed his eyes for a brief moment, something you’d never seen before.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Do you mean that? That you’re mine?”

You furrowed your brow, searching his face, but he turned away. “Kaz? What is it? Why are you asking me this?”

He sighed your name, closing his eyes. “I—I think I…The way that I feel about you…I think it’s…I think…”

Kaz trailed off, his chest rising with every breath, unable to finish his sentence, and he turned away. But his shield dropped, and you were able to see every emotion he was feeling.

Now you recognized what you were seeing. You’d just never seen it in Kaz before. It all made sense. The way he never wanted you in harm’s way, how he would always turn to you for advice, secrets that only you knew, the smiles that appeared only when you were around. Kaz cared for you. He…

He loved you.

Your heart soared because you loved him too. You have for a while now, but you’d never been able to act on it. Yes, Kaz was able to touch you, but in this capacity, you weren’t sure.

Taking the small step to close the distance between you was terrifying, but you were meant for terrifying things.

“Yes, Kaz,” you whispered. “I’m yours.”

You looked down at his lips, the palest of pinks. Your breaths intermingled, you were so close. “Are you… Can I…?”

You hated that you couldn’t get the questions out. It was Kaz, but you still felt like you should know him well enough not to ask. But since it was Kaz, you had to. You didn’t want to do anything he wasn’t ready for.

“I’ve never… I don’t know how,” he admitted, turning away from you, cheeks turning the color of his lips.

“It’s okay,” you said, slowly lifting a hand. At your inquiring gaze, Kaz nodded. Your hand was warm against his cool skin. “I’ll follow your move.”

Kaz inched closer, noses brushing. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, eyelids fluttering. “Yes. Are you okay?”

He let out a breath, sending gooseflesh over your skin. “Yes,” he answered, and then his lips touched yours.

It was like no kiss you’ve ever had before. The others you’d kissed had been rushed, a frenzy of lips and tongues and teeth. But Kaz’s kiss, it was slow and deliberate, like he wanted to stop time itself and stay in this moment with you.

All in all, you were seeing a different side of Kaz. He usually had a hard exterior, the ruthless Bastard of the Barrel persona he had created. When he was alone with you, he was more relaxed and open, but still haunted by the ghosts of his past. You’d never gotten to know the boy he was before, only the one you had helped out of the harbor.

Was this who you were seeing? Not Kaz Brekker, but Kaz Rietveld? A boy who was curious and sweet-natured, tender and benevolent?

Then his tongue stroked your bottom lip, and you jumped in surprise.

“Was that wrong?” Kaz asked, panic lighting up his eyes.

“No,” you said, shocked. “It was right.”

Kaz grinned at you, a true smile this time, not the little thing he did as the notorious gang leader, and his gloved hands gingerly touching your waist, careful of your injury. “Can we do it again?”

You returned the smile. “Yes.”

He kissed you again, much more confident and sure than before. When his hands moved across your waist, brushing your bandaged side, you gasped.

“Sorry,” he mumbled against your lips between kisses.

You hummed, chills running down your spine when his hands gripped your hips. “It’s okay.”

“I’d like to try something else, if that’s okay?”

You pulled back a hair’s breadth to look into his eyes, his pupils blown wide, and you knew how much your kisses were affecting him. “Are you sure? This isn’t moving too fast for you?”

“I’ve wasted enough time, and I don’t want to wait any longer. I just…” He lowered his head, stray bits of his hair brushing against your bare shoulder. “I’ve never done this before.”

You brushed away the hair that had fallen forward, lifting his head to you. Your fingers tangled themselves in his dark locks, silky and fine to the touch. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Kaz leaned forward and kissed your forehead, a simple, gratuitous kiss, and then he brushed his lips across your temple, your cheekbones, your jaw, and then the crook of your neck. He was experimenting, finding each touch a new and thrilling way to explore you. “Is this okay?” He mumbled against your shoulder.

You had your head tilted back, eyes closed. Every single one of Kaz’s kisses tingled against your skin, and your breath came out in pants. “Yes,” you gasped. “Don’t stop.”

Kaz continued to press kisses to your shoulders, across your collarbone, against your throat. “Tell me what to do,” he whispered.

“Do whatever you want,” you breathed.

“And if I want to take your shirt off?”

You opened your eyes, lids heavy with want. Kaz’s eyes were blazing with a fire you’d only ever seen when he’d defeated Pekka Rollins, but that had been a sinister and triumphant flame, and this was burning only for you out of desire.

“Then take it off.”

Kaz fingered the hem of your shirt, lifting it ever so slowly. He avoided the bandage on your side, and when the garment was over your head, he tossed it to the floor.

“Saints,” Kaz cursed, gazing at your bare skin and breasts. “You’re so beautiful,”

You pulled him towards you, kissing him feverishly. “Touch me, please.”

Kaz ran a hand over belly, up your ribcage, and lightly trailed his fingers over the swell of your breast, causing you to gasp in his mouth. “Is that good?” He asked, his voice low and coarse.

“Yes.”

“What about this?” He inquired as his thumb brushed against your nipple.

“Yes,” you whined, enjoying his experimentation. He wasn’t trying to be seductive, you knew, but Saints, he was doing a very good job. Your lower belly fluttered, and desire pooled between your legs.

“And if I were to…”

A gasp left your lips as his mouth closed around a nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. One of his hands squeezed the breast not occupied by his mouth, and the other settled low on your hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass.

Your own hands gripped the collar of Kaz’s shirt, and you pulled him towards your bed. He moved to support you as the two of you lowered to the mattress.

Kaz gazed down at you, bare and flushed for him, glowing in the candlelight. You really were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. If it was between you or mountains of gold, he’d choose you in a heartbeat. Hell, he’d even give the gold to Pekka if it meant keeping you forever.

You trailed your fingers over the expanse of his clothed chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath. Then you undid one button, and then another, and another. You blinked up at him, searching him for hesitation. “Is this okay?”

Kaz nodded, starting to undo some buttons himself, and your fingers met in the middle to slide the fabric over his shoulders together. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close to you, feeling his bare chest against yours as your lips met again. Legs opening to accommodate his body, you held him to you, and you never wanted to let go.

Hands were everywhere, to your surprise. Never before has Kaz touched you like this, so unreserved and wanting. Before, he would give you a hand to help you up, or a simple pat on the shoulder for a job well done. But this, you didn’t want him to stop.

His hands brushed against the fastenings of your pants, and the hesitation set it. Kaz’s throat bobbed, and before he could say anything, you reached down and undid the buttons yourself, shimmying the material over your hips and kicking it to the floor.

Kaz raked his gaze over you, a faint blush creeping over his skin. He licked his lips, his fingers sliding down your hip, over your thigh. His eyes met yours, and you felt yourself melting under the intensity of his desire. “Can I?” He asked, and you opened your legs in answer.

One finger ran over your seam, and your breath hitched. Then Kaz spread you, the pad of his finger brushing against the tiny bundle of nerves that made you moan. Kaz looked up at you, mischief gleaming in his eyes, and he touched you there again.

Your head thrown back, you gripped your sheets tightly, the anticipation making you squirm. Kaz followed the trail of your wetness to your entrance, and he drew tiny circles around you, and your hips bucked in search for more. This made Kaz curious, so he slowly pushed his finger into you, and you sighed.

You were so warm and wet, Kaz found. And the more he moved his finger, withdrawing it from you before sliding back in, the wetter you became. The sounds you made stirred something within him, setting his heart to pounding.

Then you moaned his name when he hit a certain spot inside of you.

“Kaz.”

He lifted his head to you, and you were watching him, your pupils so dilated, they covered the beautiful color of your irises. Your chest was rising and falling as you stared at him, and then you sat up, causing his finger to leave your warmth.

You reached for him, pulling his face to yours in a kiss. “I need you,” you whispered against his lips, and your hands were creating a trail down his chest and to his belt. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Kaz said, and his hands joined yours in unbuckling his belt. Together, you removed his pants, and Kaz kicked off his shoes.

You slid a hand between you, touching the hard length of him with your fingertips. A groan left him, and his head dropped to rest against your shoulder. You pressed a kiss to his hair as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly moving up and down. He grew harder with every stroke, and he began to press kisses to your neck and shoulder.

An idea sparked in your mind, and you hooked one leg around his hips, flipping so you were on top. Kaz’s eyes went wide, and he met yours as excitement and expectation set in. You continued to stroke him, and as you moved to hover over him, you asked, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” he replied, and he crashed his mouth to yours as you slowly lowered onto him.

Saints, this was better than your hand. You were extraordinary. Mouths moving against one another, bodies joined in a way that was so intimate, nothing would ever take its place. This was heaven, and Kaz would never be the same after this.

You moved, sliding your hips away from his before returning back to him. Every stroke of you around him made Kaz’s insides tighten until it felt like he was going to burst. He ran his hands over every inch of you he could reach, over your arms and shoulders, your waist, and following the movement of your hips.

The moans continued to leave your mouth even as you kissed him, and when you muttered that you were close, he felt you tighten around him, and that was his undoing.

Everything within Kaz shattered, as if something snapped within him. He held you against him, not wanting to let you go. When your breath returned, you slid off of him, the evidence of his release sticking to the insides of your thighs.

“Will you hand me my shirt?” You asked, collapsing beside him.

Kaz leaned over the side of the bed, grabbing the thin undershirt you had been wearing. You cleaned him off first, then yourself before throwing the shirt back to the floor. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, Kaz held you close, and you tucked your head underneath his chin. Your legs were intertwined, and so were your fingers, the sweat making your bodies stick together.

This moment was perfection, Kaz thought, and he nuzzled your hair.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Your lips turned upwards in a smile as you pressed them lightly to his chest, eyes growing heavy with exhaustion.

“I love you, too.

[misscongeniality18]

If im being annoying sorry i just have a lot of ideas…but i have a request for peter sutherland x reader and the fake dating trope with like a ridiculous amount of mutual pining (obv leads to them actually dating)

No problem at all, my darling! I want to write but have no ideas, so it's perfect!

Anything Could Happen - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! You and Peter are on an assignment together, but in order to get into a secure venue, you must go undercover as a couple. Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Genre ! Fake dating, fluff, some angst Warnings ! Reader and Peter are both agents/spies, mutual pining, kissing, idk I probably missed something Word Count - 1228

" But now I've seen it through And now I know the truth That anything could happen Anything could happen " -Anything Could Happen, Ellie Goulding

Masterlist Request Guide

It was strange, the way you'd gotten used to seeing Peter wear a suit every day. But when it came to wearing a tux, it was as if Peter rocked your world.

For months the two of you had been preparing for this night. You both had alternate online personalities and credentials in order to gain access to the multi-billion-dollar company that had been discovered to be corrupt. Now all you needed was concrete proof, and that would be acquired by you and Peter at the gala for shareholders tonight.

It was a black-tie event, so naturally, you'd thought Peter would dress as if he were going to work. You felt your heart jump when you saw him in the tuxedo. Since you'd been working closely with Peter lately, your schoolgirl crush had turned into something bigger.

Unbeknownst to you, Peter felt the same. The team had set up headquarters in a different room of the five-star hotel where the gala took place, so when you walked in wearing a sparkling full-length black gown, he couldn't breathe. You were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

You'd both hidden your guns in your outfits, yours attached to a garter that was easily accessible through a thigh-high slit in your gown. You envied Peter for having his hidden in his jacket.

Peter led you into the hotel's ballroom, your arm linked with his.

Tonight, you weren't FBI agents anymore. You were a newlywed couple who'd decided to buy shares in the corrupt company.

And God, did Peter look fantastic. But it wasn’t just his looks. Yes, he was incredibly handsome, but Peter was also sweet and protective and loyal. He would put others before himself without a second thought, and you deeply admired him for that.

You watched him as he scanned the room, inching closer to you whenever someone would get too close. When his arm wasn’t connected to yours, Peter’s hand was a constant presence on your lower back, ready to jump in if something suddenly went wrong.

A server with a tray of champagne passed, and you grabbed two glasses. Peter gave you a disapproving look.

"What? We're supposed to be blending in." You shrugged, taking the glass and bringing it to your lips.

Peter raised a brow. "We're also working."

Peter glanced down at you, a smirk playing on his lips. He still couldn't get over how gorgeous you looked.

When you met his gaze, your rosy lips still on the edge of your glass, you furrowed your brows. "What?"

He wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you everything. How stunning and magnificent you were, how every time he saw you the room would light up with your smile, how he wanted to do nothing but hold you close to him and—

“Over there. Two o’clock.”

Peter moved his gaze over to where your eyes were focused on. The heads of the company were gathered together, papers clutched in their hands. They were walking out of a side door to a smaller meeting room across the hall.

You knew that those papers had lists of investors and plans for the so-called “company” to buy entire city blocks and use them for dealing illegal drugs.

“Let’s go,” you insisted, starting towards the door.

Peter placed a hand on your elbow, stopping your steps. “Hold on. You know we can’t just barge in there, guns blazing. We need a plan.”

Your eyes lit up, and you grinned. “I’ve got one.”

Inside of the clutch you carried was a small recording device. Very discreetly, you and Peter went into the neighboring meeting room of the one your targets went into. At the bottom of the wall was a vent, and Peter managed to unscrew it for you to place the recorder inside.

Once you’d gotten what you’d needed, you had to get out of there quickly. In the hallway, the two of you were halted in your escape by the door opening. Quickly, without thinking, you grabbed Peter by the front of his shirt and yanked him to you, kissing him thoroughly and deeply. He froze, hands gripping your waist.

“Kiss me,” you whispered so the targets couldn’t hear. “And make it look real.”

Peter understood, eyes going dark and glazed over, and he crashed his mouth to yours again. He tasted cool and fresh, almost minty with a hint of champagne. So he did have some earlier.

While your hands were creeping up to play with the hair at the nape of Peter’s neck, Peter trailed his fingers down your waist to the skirt of your dress as he pressed you up against the wall, all the while the targets caught sight of the pair of you. One of them started towards you, hands reaching for something on his belt.

Peter’s lips trailed down your neck, and with your eyes half-closed, you watched the targets coming towards you. This time, you could clearly see the pistol in his hands. “Get my gun,” you whispered hurriedly, opening your legs for him since your hands were occupied with pressing the panic button on the inside pocket of Peter’s jacket, letting the team know that you were in danger.

Peter reached through the slit of your dress, trailing his fingers up your thigh until he took your gun from its holster. He whipped around just as the rest of the team came running to your aid.

Once the party had been shut down and the arrests had been made, you and Peter walked through the hotel lobby together. Your feet had begun to ache from wearing heels all night, so you held them in one hand, your bare feet against the plush carpet.

“You did good tonight,” you said, not meeting Peter’s eyes. “You know, with my sudden plan of distraction.”

You saw Peter grin out of the corner of your eye. “It made sense, once I knew what you were doing. I’m sure there were a lot of other couples who went to find places to hook up.”

“I’m sure,” you laughed. “I said to make it look real, and you did. Maybe you were an actor in another life.”

Peter scratched the back of his neck. “I, uh, wasn’t acting.”

“What?” You started at the words, freezing in place in front of the front doors of the hotel.

“It was real for me,” Peter said, turning to face you. “I’d been dreaming about kissing you for a while. It’s totally okay if you didn’t feel the same way, I just thought you should know.”

You smiled softly at him, rising on your tiptoes to get closer to his ear. “It was real for me, too.”

You lowered back to stand on flat feet, suddenly shy. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you chuckled. “I’m not excited about putting these shoes back on in order to get to the car, but—”

A squeal left your lips as Peter scooped you into his arms. On the way to the car, Peter asked, “Are you hungry?”

“Well, the party ended early, and dinner was never served, so yes.”

Peter opened the door for you and set you in the passenger seat. “How do burgers sound? I know this great diner a few minutes away.”

You grinned at him. “That sound amazing.”

“Great. It’s a date then.”

[misscongeniality18]

if ur not comfortable with writing this one i totally get it but it would make me the happiest person on this planet if you could do peter sutherland x reader who has dependent personality disorder? if ur unfamiliar with it, symptoms include feeling helpless, submissive, incapable of taking care of themselves, difficulty being alone, trouble making everyday decisions, being over sensitive to criticism. for me it developed from childhood trauma/abuse so if u could include that too? dpd isnt something i see represented like, at all in fics and it would make me the happiest girl on earth to read one with peter <3

I am unfamiliar with DPD, but I'll give it my best shot! I hope you don't mind if I take a few liberties with the specific details of the reader's background, but I'll follow your request! I also apologize in advance if this doesn't represent correctly.

Keep Holding On - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! You are having a rough day, and you turn to Peter for support. Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Genre ! Fluff, some angst Warnings ! Reader has dependent personality disorder, people being rude for no reason, mentions of childhood trauma and abuse Word Count - 925

" Keep holding on 'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through Just stay strong 'Cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you " -Keep Holding On, Avril Lavigne

Masterlist Request Guide

Today was just one of those days.

Like Peter, you worked nights as an operator for a tech company’s help desk. But since you worked at home, you were left alone once Peter left for work. While you were actively taking calls, you were fine, but in between, you struggled.

You hated being alone because you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Sometimes there were so many things to do, you felt overwhelmed and just decided to watch TV instead. Peter was very sweet about it when he would come home, helping you make something to eat or offering to put your laundry in with his.

Peter was the only person who made you feel better.

Your dependent personality disorder started with your childhood. Your parents weren’t always the most supportive or loving parents in the world, and they were incredibly selfish. Instead of being allowed to play outside, you were forced to be in the house doing chores or constantly studying.

And you never did anything right. Or at least to her standards.

Your mother was controlling, and she always corrected everything you did. You didn’t scrub the counters in circles, and you used the wrong sponge. The clothes were folded too sloppily, and your handwriting wasn’t legible enough. Write your equations going across the paper, not going down. What do you mean, you want to take dance lessons? How will they help you in the real world? Go to computer camp instead, that will look good on your resume, and everyone used computers nowadays.

While your mother was stifling and constructive, your father was absent and dismissive. Spending most of his time at work or in his home office, he only cared to acknowledge you when it concerned him. He didn’t care what you did, as long as you didn’t bother him.

After you moved away for college, you were only able to obtain an associate’s degree in computer science, and you only managed to scrape by from the help of your roommate and your understanding professors. To you, nothing was good enough and you often had to be led through each assignment in order to complete it.

With your job, you got lucky because it was computers, and you knew computers inside and out. It had been programmed into your brain ever since you were a child. Your mother had made sure of that.

You had been lost until you met Peter. He was caring, protective, and understanding. He wouldn’t let anything or anyone hurt you. He was the person you would turn to for comfort.

Until he couldn’t be there for you.

It wasn’t his fault, you knew that. Just like you, he had to work. But you still couldn’t push down the feeling of helplessness whenever he wasn’t with you.

You were feeling that way right now as you tried to reason and help a customer on the phone.

“Sir, I understand that you’re upset—“

“Upset?! Of course I’m upset! My computer isn’t working and you’re not doing anything about it! What are you, stupid?!”

Your bottom lip began to tremble, and you stuttered as you started to explain yourself. “I-I’m sorry s-sir, but y-you need to b-bring your c-computer in t-to one of our l-locations to r-remove the v-viruses—“

“Oh d-d-d-do I?” He stuttered mockingly back at you. “What do you know? You sound like a child, crying like that! I’m calling someone else because incompetent individuals like you don’t know how to do anything!”

The man hung up on you, and you dropped your phone into your lap, reminded of all the times your mother had yelled at you when you had done something wrong.

Tears ran down your cheeks as your body began to shake uncontrollably. You signed off of your work program, not caring if you were early. It was almost five in the morning, so you were close enough to clocking out.

Your hands scrambled for your phone as you pushed your laptop away, calling the first number on your speed dial.

“P-P-Peter,” you whispered when he answered.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

You couldn’t even get a few words out before you burst into tears.

“I’m walking down the hallway right now, I’ll be there in a few seconds.”

Soon enough, Peter walked into the apartment, throwing his briefcase down and rushing over to you. He didn’t say anything, just held you in his arms while making soft shushing noises into your ear. Once you calmed down enough, Peter pulled back, wiping away the saltiness on your cheeks and smoothing your hair from your face.

“Wanna tell me what happened?”

You let out a shaky sigh, still trembling from crying. “This customer on the phone was being difficult, and he yelled at me and called me some names, and it only made me think of my mom, and…”

Your breath became labored, and Peter shushed you again, pulling you to him. Peter pressed his lips to your hair, your tear-stained cheeks. He rubbed his hands over your arms and your back, trying to smooth away the anxiety.

This time, your sigh came out calm and eased. You wrapped your arms around Peter’s neck. “Thank you,” you whispered. “You always know what to do.”

Peter pulled you away so he could see your face, staring into your eyes, still sore from crying. “It will be okay. It’s one step at a time. You just have to keep holding on.”

He kissed you, hands cradling your jaw, and there was no place you felt safer.

[misscongeniality18]

request for peter sutherland x reader and she has very low self esteem. readers family isnt very supportive and maybe at like a family gathering someone in her family makes an offensive joke at readers expense and peter defends her?

Of course! I hope you don't mind me using a bit of my own past with family members as inspiration, and that it's not exactly an offensive joke, more like an offensive opinion/observation? Anyway, enjoy!

Perfect - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! You and Peter go to your family's monthly get-together, where your family continuously judges you. Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Genre ! Fluff, some angst Warnings ! Judgemental/unsupportive family members, reader has body/self-esteem issues, social alcohol consumption Word Count - 1454

" When you said you looked a mess I whispered underneath my breath But you heard it Darling you look perfect tonight " - Perfect, Ed Sheeran

Masterlist Request Guide

You gripped Peter's hand tightly while smoothing out your dress. Today was the day that you were bringing him to meet your family. Every month, your family would meet at your parent's house for dinner and to catch up. To everyone else, it was a lovely tradition that started with your great-grandparents and was passed on through the generations, but to you, it was a nightmare that you dreaded each month.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" Peter asked you as the two of you walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

You sighed, trying to keep your clammy palms dry. "I'm just preparing myself. Are you sure this dress looks okay?"

"You look great," Peter said, furrowing his brows at your sudden anxiety. The door opened, revealing your mother in her best sweater set and pearls. "Y/N, darling! I'm so glad you could make it this time. You must be Peter. I've heard a lot about you."

Your mother was warm and friendly, just like the home she worked so tirelessly to keep. She was a teacher at the local community college, and you admired how dedicated she was to her job.

Your mother led you and Peter inside while calling for your father. Your siblings were gathered in the living room, their own significant others sitting at their sides. Your aunts and uncles were there as well, and so were a few of your cousins.

Your mother led the introductions, and Peter shook everyone's hand in turn. So far, things were going well, but the pounding in your chest never left. You were squeezing Peter's hand tightly, holding him close to you. Out of everything in the world, only Peter could keep you grounded.

"So, Peter, what is it that you do?" Your father asked, handing Peter a beer. You sipped your own drink, preferring one of the fruity seltzers.

Peter was relaxed, sitting next to you on the couch. "I'm an FBI agent. I'm currently on a classified assignment in the White House."

"Wow, that's impressive. Must pay pretty big bucks for that, huh?" Your father joked. "Well, it's nothing like being a writer, right Y/N?"

You bit your lip to keep yourself from speaking. If you did, you would lash out. Your father had never been supportive about your choice in career.

Still, your father continued, ignoring the annoyed sighs from your siblings. They knew his habits as well. "I mean, being a writer is a nice hobby, but it's not realistic as a stable career."

"Actually," Peter interrupted. "Y/N has had several short stories published, and her first novel is getting considered for a book deal. "

Before anyone could say anything, a voice called from the kitchen that dinner was ready.

You instantly stiffened. Peter felt you go rigid, and he glanced at you with concern. His eyes were asking if everything was alright, but you didn't have time to answer as everyone went into the dining room.

Your grandmother stood at the dining table adding the finishing touches to the spread that she and your mother created. "Y/N, you're here!"

Your grandmother rushed around the table to hug you tightly. When she released you, she eyed your dress with a frown. "Is that dress the right size? It's making you look bigger."

After taking a deep breath, you stiffly turned to Peter. "Grandma, this is Peter, my boyfriend. He's an FBI agent."

"Oh!" Your grandmother gave Peter a hug and showed him to a place at the table. "That must include a lot of training to keep you fit. Does Y/N join you at the gym?"

"No, Grandma, I don't. I—"

Before you could continue with that you go to a yoga class every week, your grandmother interrupted you. "Oh, darling, you should. You look like you're getting heavier."

She walked away from you then, and you bit your lip as you sat down next to Peter. He took your hand, giving you comfort. "I see why you don't like coming home," he whispered to you.

You nodded in agreement as the food was getting passed around. Peter was asked more questions, but he always brought the conversation back to supporting you.

But eventually, your grandmother began to go on a tangent about you. "I loved having Y/N stay with me while she completed college, but I always thought to myself, what can she really do with a degree in English literature? You would think that she'd become a teacher or something, but no, she wants to be a writer. It is admirable, I suppose, but how does she just become a writer? What does she have to do?"

Peter took a sip of water. "I mentioned this in the living room, but she's had several stories published, and she's really talented—"

"Are you going to eat all that?" Your grandmother interrupted, seeing the amount of food on your plate.

You looked down at your plate blankly. A helping each of meat, potatoes, and green beans, and a roll with butter on the side. You turned back to your grandmother hesitantly. "Yes?"

"Oh my. That's not going to help the figure, is it?"

The table was uncomfortably silent with the occasional clink of silverware against plates, but your grandmother still continued.

"Why don't you take care of yourself, Y/N? You have such a pretty face, don't you want a body to match?"

There was a sudden thud coming from your left as Peter forcefully set his water glass down. He wiped his mouth with a napkin before placing it on the table, pushing his chair back. "I'm done. I can't do this anymore."

"You're leaving?" Your grandmother asked in shock.

"Yes," Peter replied, helping you from your chair and taking your hand. "I'd stay, but I can't stand listening to you insult the woman I love any longer. She is beautiful and smart and so incredibly talented. I wish I had a fraction of what she has, but I don't. You've all praised me for my job, but you know what I really do? I monitor a phone for eight hours that doesn't even ring! Mrs. Y/L/N, thank you for the meal. I hope to see you again soon."

Peter thanked your mother before stalking out of the dining room and through the front door.

Your mother sighed, turning to your grandmother. "Mom, he's right. You can't keep talking to Y/N like that. And you," she said, turning to your father. "No more making wisecracks about Y/N's job."

"Okay, okay. Honey, I'm sorry," your father apologized to you. You gave him a warm smile. After all, his comments were mainly poor-taste jokes. But your grandmother's...

"Grandma, I'm not obsessed with my weight like you are. Yes, I know I'm bigger than average, but I eat right, and I exercise almost daily, it's just that I have to find the right things that fit me. Eating salads and running ten miles a day doesn't work for me," you said, turning to your grandmother. "So please stop making these comments to me. All they do is make me feel bad."

Your grandmother sighed. "Fine. I'm sorry. I'll keep my mouth shut."

Not entirely heartfelt, but if she'd stop, that was good enough for you... for the moment.

"I'll go talk to Peter. He's just really overprotective, but that's what I love about him. He takes care of me," you said, smiling to yourself.

You left your family in the dining room, walking out to your front yard where Peter was waiting at your car. He was leaning against the passenger door, arms crossed over his chest.

"They're angry at me, aren't they?" He asked you, cringing.

You shook your head as you approached him, pulling him toward you by his tie and pressing your lips to his.

Peter's hands moved to rest on your waist, moving you closer to him. When you pulled away, his eyes were lighter and he was smiling. "What was that for?"

"I'd never been able to stand up to my family, especially my grandma, and you defended me when I couldn't. And I love you for that."

Peter kissed you again, soft and sweet, wrapping his arms around you. "I love you, too. You are perfect, no matter what anyone says."

You gave him another quick kiss before pulling him back to the house.

He groaned, not budging an inch. "Do we have to go back in there?"

"Not necessarily, but they apologized to me while you were gone, and I know they'll do it again if you're there. I kind of want to hear it for a second time."

Peter laughed, allowing himself to be dragged by the hand.

Yes, every insult has been said to me before, and if you've heard something similar, you are PERFECT just the way you are! I love each and every one of you. Happy reading. <3

[misscongeniality18]

Masterlist !

Requests are open, use this guide to help you if you’re stuck!

* Smut (18+ Minors DNI)

The Night Agent 

Go Ahead and Watch My Heart Burn - The Night Agent Still Falling For You - Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Part One     Part Two Photograph - Peter Sutherland x Reader Nervous - Peter Sutherland x Reader I Do - Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Perfect - Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Keep Holding On - Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Anything Could Happen - Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Fallin' For You - Peter Sutherland x Reader

Shadow & Bone / Six of Crows

* Movement - Kaz Brekker x fem!reader Arms - Wylan Hendriks x male!durast!reader x Jesper Fahey

[misscongeniality18]

Guide to Creating Prompts/Requests

Use this whenever you want to submit a request, but you're stuck and out of ideas! It's also helpful for writing fics of your own!

Note: I usually only write reader-inserts on Tumblr. OCs will be rare here since I write those fics on different platforms. Multiple parts will accepted, but they usually happen when I get into an idea too much and need to write more. Be as specific or as broad as you want, but if you're broad, just know that creative liberties will be taken!

Pick a Character and Universe!

The list is literally endless, so put whatever you want, and I'll let you know if I can write for it!

Pick a Genre! (or more than one)

ABCs Angst Crossover Fluff Headcanons Hurt/comfort Smut

Pick a Trope! (as many as you want)

Friends to lovers Enemies to lovers Grumpy-sunshine Forbidden love Secret identity Forced proximity Best friend's sibling Best friend's lover Best friend's ex Second chance Soul mates Fake relationship Amnesia/mistaken identity Holiday/vacation romances Fish out of water Opposites attract Rich vs poor/different social class Rivals Sworn off relationships Forbidden love Oblivious to love Unrequited love Dark secret Emotional scars Rejected as unworthy by parents/former lovers/etc Character in distress Kidnapped Protector Road trip Injury/illness Secret/Sudden/Unexpected baby Secret admirer Mistaken identity Love triangle One-night stand Arranged marriage Honorable marriage (like in historical novels/shows) Drunk marriage Marriage pact Wedding fever - runaway bride/jilted/best men/wedding planner Age gap Reunion romance Redemption Break up to save them Fairytale retelling

(List created by using the one by Evie Alexander. If there's nothing you find here, make your own!)

Optional: Pick a Song!

Use the Romantic Mix that Spotify made for me, or pick your own!

Optional: Pick a Quote! (or more)

Also endless, but here's a few. (I literally did a Pinterest search, so original creators could not be found. Sorry!)

"Come over here and make me." "Are you jealous?" "Have you lost your mind?!" "Don't leave me...please." "I almost lost you." "Wanna bet?" "Just kiss me, damn it." "Please don't do this." "Just talk to me." "Let me help you." "I'm not going anywhere." "I can't do this anymore." "Just leave." "We can't keep doing this." "I'm going to take care of you." "Stay with me tonight." "I didn't think it was possible to love this much." "Where are you hurt?" "Who did this to you?" "Of course I care about you!" "Let me clean your wounds." "Why are you helping me?" "Close the door." "I should have done that a long time ago." "Why are you helping me?" "Watch me." "Why are you blushing?" "Are you flirting with me?" "Damn, you're beautiful." "Just hold me." "I've loved you for years." "I can't stop thinking about you." "Why me?" "You look good in my clothes." "You're so pretty when you blush." "I saw you naked last night, and you're embarrassed by this?" "Why are you smiling?" "No one gets to touch you like that but me."

You can alter the options to fit your prompt, or add something that isn't even listed! I've searched and thought of as many as I could, but there are limits to my research abilities. Have fun! - grace

[misscongeniality18]

REQUESTS OPEN

I am currently taking requests! I want to get into writing reader fics on Tumblr because I hardly have any time to write my fics on Wattpad, BUT I have no idea what to write, so send in some requests please! I'll write just about anything; fluff, angst, smut, etc.

As for what, you can comment something and I'll tell you if I've watched it. Or you can just send a request in anyway! I like to listen to music when I write, so add a song if you want!

(I have included some of the tags that I read for reference.)

Here is a guide to help you create requests if you're stuck!

[misscongeniality18]

Okay I have some thoughts for a Peter x reader fic. Peter and reader are officially dating and the reader begins to notice that Peter does kind and thoughtful things that none of her previous romantic partners had done before. Like, Peter buys medicine on the way home and makes soup for the reader when she’s sick, does all the house chores when she’s extra tired, and remembers the little things she says about a book she wanted to read or movie she wanted to go see. One day, the reader’s talking to Peter on the phone on her way home and she tells how she’s had a terrible day and feeling down. When she arrives, Peter cooked her favorite and put on her favorite series to make her feel better. Reader starts to tear up and Peter thinks he did something wrong, but reader tells him that it’s just no other guy had loved and cared for her as much he does, and how lucky she is to have him in her life

This! Ugh, perfection, because we all know Peter would 100% do this. (I'm also so sorry that it took me so long to get this out, Memorial Day weekend was my only time where I didn't have to do anything, so I took the opportunity to rest my mind before I start summer classes. You're amazing, I love you. &lt;;3)

I Do - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! Peter knows finds out you've had a hard day, so he decides to make you feel better. Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Genre ! Tooth-rotting fluff Warnings ! language, depression, kissing, Peter being such a good boyfriend if that counts, I also made this way too cheesy Word Count - 1079

" Never understood why People always say, love chooses you Now I do Now I do " - I Do, Aloe Blacc & LeAnn Rhimes

Masterlist Request Guide

As you slid into your car, the tightness in your chest didn’t leave. Your job was stressful, to say the least, and it didn’t help that your boss was a first-class demon from hell, not to mention a total bitch. She asks you to come in on your days off and stay at least an hour after your shift is supposed to end without being paid overtime, and while on that subject, you were severely underpaid. You were practically doing your boss’s job for her because she spends ninety-percent of her time scrolling on her phone.

With your hands on the steering wheel, you rest your head against the cool leather, trying to catch your breath. Today had been particularly difficult. You had your own shit to do, but you couldn’t do it because you were taking over your boss’s workload, and when she found out that you didn’t get your own work done, she blew up at you, practically calling you worthless.

Before you pulled out of the parking lot, you called the only person who could make you feel better—your boyfriend.

Peter’s voice came from the car’s speakers, filling the small space with your favorite sound in the world. “Hey, babe, you on your way home?”

You could already feel the tension begin to melt from your shoulders at his clear, upbeat tone. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“What’s wrong?”

Damn, he could hear how stressed and exhausted you were.

“It’s been, uh, it’s been a hard day,” you said, trying to hold in your tears.

“Oh, babe, I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, so I won’t ask.”

Peter knew you so well, it made you want to cry. You still refused to, though. “I’ll be home soon, okay?”

“I’ll be here. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hung up, and it took everything within you not to speed.

Peter was an angel from above. He was kind and thoughtful and attentive and loving, unlike your past partners, and he would do things just to make you happy. One time, Peter remembered how you wanted to see the movie adaptation of one of your favorite books, so he surprised you with tickets. You thanked him with endless kisses.

He also takes care of you even when you can’t. Last week, when you dared to be sick, Peter picked up medicine on the way home from work and made you chicken soup because you couldn’t keep anything else down. And during that time, he even cleaned up the apartment because you didn’t have time to do your regular chores.

In your mind, Peter was perfect.

You arrived at the apartment, and your feet felt so heavy that you worried you wouldn’t make it down the hallway. When you opened your door, the smell of garlic and bacon and absolute heaven greeted you. “Peter?” You called out, peeking your head around the corner to the kitchen.

There Peter stood, spoon in hand, stirring something on the stove. He turned when he heard your voice, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “Hey! I made your favorite for dinner; carbonara. Well,” he sighed. “I tried. It’s not going to be like Mariano’s, but it’ll be close.”

You blinked up at him when he mentioned your favorite Italian restaurant located just down the street, a place you could eat at for every meal.

Peter saw the expression on your face, and he quickly put the spoon down and rushed to the television. “I thought we could watch Bridgerton, too! I know how you love that show, and with the new season coming out later this year, I thought…”

He trailed off as he noticed the tears welling up in your eyes, a few streaking down your cheeks.

“Oh, babe, what is it? What did I do wrong?” Peter asked, panic in his voice, and he strode over to you, placing his hands on your cheeks and wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “Baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I wanted you to feel better, and I thought I’d make your favorite dinner and put on your favorite show—“

“Peter,” you interrupted him, putting your hands over his and holding them to your chest. “You are making me feel better. Even if you didn’t do all this, you still would. With everything going on at work, you are my only stress reliever. You did everything right. You always do.”

You closed your eyes, the feel of his skin against yours calming and cool. Pressing a kiss to his palm, you whispered, “God, I don’t deserve you.”

“Hey,” Peter murmured, swooping down to wrap his arms around you, his face level with yours. “Do you trust me?”

Sputtering in confusion, you nodded. “Wha-what does—Yes, I do.”

“Then trust me when I say that you deserve everything. You are everything. You are on my mind when I’m awake and when I’m dreaming; you are my everything, and I love you.”

You met his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love within the depths of them, and you couldn’t believe how you had managed to find each other. “I love you, too,” you whispered.

His lips pressed to yours, soft and sweet and soothing. When Peter kissed you, it was as if the world faded away, and you existed only in this moment.

You drew him closer, pressing your body to his, one hand moving to the back of his neck, and then your stomach started to growl. Peter pulled away, chuckling and grinning that wide, toothy grin that always made your heart flutter. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

Peter shook his head. “We have time for that later. You’re hungry, so we’ll eat. Here, come taste my attempt at cooking.”

Leading you by the hand to the stove, Peter pulled out a fork and twirled some noodles for you to take a bite. You moaned as you chewed, nodding in approval.

“You like it?”

“I do,” you replied, mouth full.

Hearing those two words made Peter’s heart skip, and he leaned forward, kissing your cheek still full with food. He enjoyed those words not only because they told him he did a good job at cooking, but because he knew you would be saying them at an altar one day with him in front of you.

The only thing left was to get the ring out of his bedside table and ask you.

 Tonight.

[misscongeniality18]

Hey girl! I cannot tell you how happy I am that you are taking requests for Peter Sutherland. I feel like I’ve already read everything on the Peter Sutherland x reader tag 😭 I am yearning for some fluff. Could you write a fic where Peter and the reader are neighbors and although Peter is really into her he’s super nervous to ask her out. Then a package for the reader is accidentally delivered to Peter and when he knocks on her door to return it he finally works up the courage to ask her out? Or you can absolutely change it up, I just want some sweet and shy Peter. Thank you, you’re doing god’s work ❤️

This is adorable and so in-character for Peter, I love it!

Nervous - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! (In request above) Peter is hesitant to ask you out but is forced to take action by his annoying best friend and a package delivered to the wrong door. Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Genre ! Fluff Warnings ! Some language maybe, Peter being an absolute fluffball of adorable-ness, Cisco being Cisco Word Count - 1481

" I get a little bit nervous around you Get a little bit stressed out when I think about you Get a little excited Baby, when I think about you " - Nervous, Shawn Mendes

Masterlist Request Guide

Peter wouldn’t call himself a stalker, but Cisco definitely would.

You had moved into the apartment across the hall from him nearly four months ago. The first meeting between you and Peter was while you were carrying one too many boxes, and the top one fell over. Peter just so happened to be in the hallway and came to your rescue. He offered to help you with bringing up the rest of your stuff, which you gladly accepted.

Cisco happened to be there as well, and he knew just by the look on Peter’s face that the boy had completely fallen for you, and you’d only exchanged a few sentences.

Since you’d moved in, Cisco knew whenever you were in the hallway because of how Peter would suddenly perk up and glance at the door; he knew the sound and rhythm of your footsteps whenever you were walking down the hall.

Peter also knew your schedule. He knew that you would always start making dinner right after you got off of work, because he could smell whatever you were cooking while he was just waking up for his shift. You liked to take walks in the evening, just before sunset, because that was when he left for work. And he knew that you had a yoga or pilates class early in the morning (your pink mat gave that one away), because he would walk past you in the hallway when he got back from work.

Well, whenever he got home. He would stop and get food and actually go the speed limit after leaving the White House. Sometimes he would even take the stairs in order to waste time so he could walk past you in the hallway. He always looked forward to see you smile at him in greeting, even if you were only being polite.

Okay, maybe he was a bit stalker-ish.

But Peter always respected your boundaries and privacy, though. If he had an extra muffin from the coffee shop, he wouldn’t ask you if you wanted it, because what if you were allergic walnuts or couldn’t eat gluten? When he saw you struggling with your groceries, he offered to help you carry them up (which you accepted gratefully) but he never followed you inside your apartment without an invitation, because that was having proper manners. And he never ran to the peephole in his door whenever he heard you walking by, because that was just plain creepy.

He did want to talk to you more though.

Yes, there would be the occasional small talk, and he would say hello whenever you passed by him, and you would reply, bright and sweet, “Hi, Peter,” which gave him a serious case of butterflies.

Peter wanted to ask you out, but he was a coward. He could manage to stop a train and evacuate everyone before a bomb went off, but he couldn’t ask you out to coffee or lunch?

God, he was pathetic.

Cisco liked to give him shit about it every time he came over, and tonight was one of those nights. It was Peter’s night off, and Cisco came over to watch an MLB game and drink a couple of beers.

“Come on, man, you’ve gotta rip the band aid off sometime. I know it’s only been six months since Zoe left, but—“

Peter, from his spot on the couch, held out a hand to stop his friend from saying any more. “This has nothing to do with Zoe. I just…haven’t found the right time yet.”

“If I had a dime for every time I’ve heard that one, I’d be a rich man,” Cisco replied, taking a sip from his beer.

Peter furrowed his brow. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“People always come to me for relationship advice—“

“What people would do that?”

“Shut up and let me finish,” Cisco scolded. “Most of the excuses about why someone doesn’t follow through with anything is that they ‘haven’t found the right time,’ and it’s complete bullshit. You have to take charge with what you want, man. If you want this girl, you have to ask her out. You can’t keep watching her from afar, it’s sketchy.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Peter got up a little too quickly, desperate for the conversation to be over.

Waiting on the ground in front of the door was a package. Peter picked it up and went back inside, and as he read the label, his heart began to pound. It wasn’t his name on the box.

It was yours.

Cisco could easily see the panic in Peter’s expression. “What is it?”

“It—it was delivered to the wrong door. It’s hers.”

When Peter began to stutter, Cisco knew who he was talking about. “Where’s the package from?”

Peter glanced down at the from address. “None of your business.”

“It’s from Victoria’s Secret, isn’t it?”

That was met with a smack to the side of the head.

“Okay, okay, sorry. But you have to talk to her anyway, so why not ask her out now?”

When Peter said nothing, Cisco began to realize how nervous he was.

“You really like her, don’t you?”

“I do. Well, so far, I do. I’d like to get to know her more.”

Cisco clapped him on the shoulder. “Then go get her. I’ve got faith in you, brother.”

With a deep breath, Peter opened his door and took the two steps to reach the other side of the hallway. He lifted his fist, package in the other hand, and knocked.

“Just a second!” He heard you shout from inside.

A few scampering footsteps later, you opened your door, and Peter felt his breath catch. Damn, you were beautiful. You had your hair piled up on top of your head, a few strands having escaped. Your cheeks were flushed, and an apron was laying over an old t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. The smell of something baking came from the kitchen, cookies maybe.

Just the sight of you made Peter forget why he was there, until the weight of the package in his hand reminded him. “Hi, I think this is supposed to be yours.”

You glanced down at the package. “Oh! Thank you so much!”

Peter handed it to you, your fingertips brushing. His skin began to tingle from where you touched.

“No problem,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What are you baking?”

“Brownies. They’re for a co-worker’s baby shower. We’re having a party tomorrow. They’re turning out a bit more fudge-y than they’re supposed to.”

Peter grinned. “Those are the best kind, aren’t they?”

“I guess you’re right,” you smiled back. “Would you like some?”

“As long as you have enough, sure. Thank you.”

“Wait just a second, I’ll be back,” you said before dashing into the kitchen.

Peter began to wait patiently, something he could do only for you. He’d wait forever if needed. He’d—

“Dude!”

Peter spun around to see Cisco poking his head out from his apartment.

“What are you doing? Ask her out already!”

“Would you—get out of here!” Peter sputtered, anxious to get his dumbass best friend away before you came back.

“Hurry it up, then!”

Cisco disappeared behind the door just as you came back with a paper plate full of brownies cut neatly into squares. “Here you go,” you said, slightly out of breath from rushing.

“Thank you,” Peter replied.

“Let me know how they are; I don’t trust my judgement of my own cooking,” you laughed, and it was one of the most beautiful sounds Peter had ever heard. “Well, thank you for the package. Have a good night.”

Stunned, Peter started to turn away, but then he turned back, calling your name. Your door was just starting to close, but you opened it back up, eyes wide and curious. “Yes?”

Peter began to worry that his words would come out in stutters if he tried to talk, so he hesitated, pressing his lips together. “Um, would you want to get coffee sometime? Or maybe dinner?”

Your eyes warmed then. “Yeah, sure. How about dinner on Saturday? Six o’clock?”

“Yeah,” Peter blinked, slightly in shock that you accepted so quickly. “Yeah, that works for me.”

“It’s a date, then,” you said, grinning at him before closing your door.

Peter pumped his fist, his lips widening into the biggest smile possible as he turned back to his apartment.

You leaned against your door, sighing in relief and trying to contain your giddiness. You’d always hoped that Peter would ask you out, but you weren’t sure if he liked you.

When you heard his door open, followed by two pairs of excited whoops, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You laughed, happy to know that Peter was every bit thrilled as you were for this date.

[misscongeniality18]

Hi! I'm the anon of "Still Falling For You" and I just want to say thank you. Yo do such an amazing job and I really loved the part 1..BTW I'm so glad that you liked the idea and can't wait for the next part!

It is my pleasure, dear anon! I didn't expect that I would love this idea so much, so I had to limit myself to making this a two-part fic.

Still Falling For You, Part Two - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! Peter meets another agent assigned to protect Rose, and to his surprise, it's his high school sweetheart--you. (Time skip to the fight on the beach.) Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Genres ! Friends-to-lovers, (sort of) enemies-to-lovers Warnings ! Angst, fluff, language, violence, innuendos, kissing, no use of y/n Disclaimers ! Everything I know about the FBI is from TV shows, so this might be an unintentional crossover with Criminal Minds? Idk, it just happened Word Count - 1857

" It took us a while Because we were young and unsure With love on the line What if we both would need more But all your flaws and scars are mine Still falling for you " - Still Falling For You, Ellie Goulding

Masterlist Request Guide Part One

The car ride to the hotel had created a frostiness between you and Peter. In fact, you weren’t sure how this ‘partnership’ would work with the amount of tension brought up. But once you’d gotten to the hotel, you both went into FBI autopilot when you saw that the Secret Service agents that were supposed to be in the lobby were gone.

Your introduction to Rose was brief, but once you’d managed to actually take a breather and talk to her, Peter’s suspicion turned out to be true. You and Rose became fast friends, and yes, the two of you would become huge pains in his ass, which would spark up heated arguments and playful banter between you and Peter.

But even through all of that friction you had fallen into the easy rhythm you’d once had with Peter years and years ago. The feelings you had thought you’d pushed deep within you had been stirred up like dust on a bookshelf, and the novel you’d picked up was one you were revisiting. Was it because it was familiar and comfortable, or because it was one that you’d never gotten over and still continued to love? Or maybe, just maybe, that story wasn’t finished yet.

Perhaps it was all of the above.

Peter had changed over the years, not just physically but mentally. He was no longer the goofy boy gazing at you with puppy dog-heart eyes. He had grown up and was a full-blown golden retriever, protective and loyal to a fault. You knew his past with his father, and you’d also heard about the accusations against him for the metro bombing one year ago. You didn’t purposefully keep yourself aware of what was going on in Peter’s life, but a supposed terrorist attack in DC made the news—with Peter in the headlines. You’d heard the rumors of his involvement, but you didn’t believe them. The Peter you knew would never do such a thing. The Peter before you now wouldn’t either, no matter what he’d gone through.

His perseverance was what you had always admired most about him growing up; Peter had never let the negative affect him. His first year of high school, he didn’t make the basketball team, so for the next year, he worked even harder to improve his skills. You had even helped him, not that you were much competition.

Then Peter’s father was arrested, and his whole world turned upside down. It was a new kind of negative, one that Peter didn’t know how to handle. It had taken him down a dark path, but he emerged into the light as an FBI agent, hoping to do some good for his country.

If you were being honest, discovering how much Peter had accomplished in his life had wounded your pride. It might be petty, but it had hurt to know that he hadn’t needed you to support him and cheer him on during the ups and downs of his life. You had thought that you would always be there for each other. You thought that because he didn’t need you, you didn’t need him either.

So you worked endlessly to become a lawyer, and then you switched career paths and joined the BAU in Quantico. It was the FBI like Peter, but at least you wouldn’t have to interact with him.

Until there was a request from the White House for an agent who specialized in behavioral analysis, and your boss recommended you.

You had never thought you’d run into Peter, and when you did, you deflected and tried to keep things professional and distant between you.

But spending time with him again—even through the absolute shit show going on—you could see that the Peter you’d known, your Peter, was still there, and it hit you like a pile of bricks.

You discovered this when he left you and Rose at the Georgetown library. When Rose mentioned that she didn’t get into Stanford, Peter brought up the fact that you had, and then he’d begun to tease you about “knowing absolutely everything because you went to fancy-ass Stanford.”

That had been it for you. That was the moment you realized that your love for him had never faded, and you were desperate to tell him.

You wanted to tell him that you had never loved anyone as much as you loved him, that there had been nights where you would dream of him and remember how he had made you quiver beneath him, that he could still make your knees go weak just by smiling at you.

You wanted to tell him everything.

Then Peter had to go talk to Diane Farr, so he dropped you and Rose off at his friend Cisco’s place. You didn’t get the chance to talk to him in private. When he got back, you promised yourself, you would tell him.

But of course, everything had turned to shit again.

Peter had discovered that Farr was in on everything, so he told Cisco to drive you and Rose to the pier, but the maniacs out to kill Rose were following you. You thought you had ditched them, so Cisco dropped Rose you and off so you could get away.

When Peter finally made it to the beach and killed the man who’d shot at your group of three in the hotel ballroom, he realized that you weren’t there. Rose told him that when Cisco dropped the two of you off, the hitman had found you, so you split up to try to lure him away. Your training and experience at the BAU led you to believe that the hitman wouldn’t stray from trying to kill his target, so you told Rose to run as you started firing your gun at the hitman. You led him down a different path than the one Rose had taken, and the last thing Rose had heard was several more rounds of gunshots before the hitman had found her again.

Clutching the knife wound in his side, Peter tried to stand and Rose had to help him up. He was frantic, calling your burner until his own went dead, and then he couldn’t breathe, his words coming out in stutters and pants.

“I have to find her, Rose. I—I can’t lose her again, I have to—“

“Peter!”

Your voice broke through the darkness of Peter’s mind and the night surrounding him, and when you ran out from the tree line onto the rocky shore, it was as if everything was clear again.

You were a bit disheveled, a bloody gash on your forehead, and you were limping from graze from a bullet on your leg, but nothing was broken or seriously injured. Rose helped the two of you to a vehicle and drove to where Peter’s godfather kept his boat.

It was after Rose helped you and Peter clean your wounds when the three of you heard on the radio that Cisco had been killed and Peter was being framed for kidnapping the Vice President’s daughter. For years, Peter had worked so hard to make a name for himself that didn’t connect him to his father and his supposed crimes. And with a single message to the public, Peter was back at square one.

You and Rose had left Peter to himself on the deck of the boat as you sailed out over the water, but after a while, you decided to join him to see if you could bring him some comfort.

Peter had thrown Kevin into the water, and you sat next to him, the two of you dangling your legs over the edge of the boat.

“I’m so sorry, Peter,” you hummed, “For everything.”

Peter sighed. “The world is so fucked up right now.”

You nodded, hesitant to continue where you wanted to go. “It is, but I’m also sorry about what happened between us…back then.”

“Oh,” he said, turning to you from looking out upon the water. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

You shook your head. “Yes, there is. I was still holding something back, and I guess I wanted to prove something to myself, that I didn’t need you, because you managed to make something of yourself and I wasn’t there to witness it, I—“

You let out a groan, frustrated with how your words were coming out wrong and not making sense.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I’m not blaming you. It’s me and how I’m stubborn and defiant, and I always try to prove people wrong even though they have nothing against me. My boss says that’s why I act before I think, like running headfirst into danger without a second thought.”

Surprisingly, Peter chuckled at that. “I can get that. You trying to distract that maniac at the park? It was completely reckless. I wanted to throttle you, you made me so worried.”

 “Damn, Sutherland, I didn’t think you’d be so worried about me,” you joked, nudging him with your shoulder.

You watched the expression in his eyes turn from light and playful to serious and passionate.

“Fuck,” Peter swore, muttering your name under his breath as he pulled away and began to pace despite his side bleeding. “Of course I was worried. I will always worry for you. I didn’t know what had happened, and when Rose told me that you’d split up, I was about to search every inch of the park in order to find you. I wouldn’t rest until I got you back.”

You took in the intensity of his eyes, and you knew he was serious. “Peter, you were hurt. There’s no way you would’ve—“

“It wouldn’t have mattered!” He interrupted, his voice now close to breaking. It shocked you, how concerned and emotional he was.

“Peter, what are you—“

“Damn it,” Peter cursed, turning to face you and cradling your face in his hands. “I could be missing all four of my limbs and I would still find a way to get to you.”

You closed your eyes, your skin remembering the way his touch felt. It was like cool water quenching your thirst, and nothing had ever felt so good. “God, Peter, you still know how to make me fall for you.”

When you opened your eyes, Peter’s face was so close to yours, you could make out every freckle on his skin. You glanced down at his lips, then back to his eyes, a brown as rich and delectable as chocolate.

Peter kissed you then, and it was as if the world was suddenly set right from being upside down and misaligned for so long. The way his mouth moved against yours sent tingles down your spine, and he still tasted sweet and fresh, like taking a bite out of a ripe, red apple.

It made you crave more.

You ran your hands over his shoulders, and he gripped your waist tightly, lifting you to move and straddle his lap. Peter held you close as the boat rocked with the waves, kissing you until you were breathless, and you knew that the two of you would never let each other go again.

The way I could've written an entire book with this idea, my God. Omg, should I?

[misscongeniality18]

OMG I have an idea for a Peter Sutherland fic. Peter and reader are lying in bed watching a movie or show but reader is just staring at Peter. When Peter asks ‘what is it?’, reader says ‘I’m counting all the freckles on your face’ and that’s when Peter finds out that reader is obsessed with his freckles and his face. Pure fluff I’m crying just thinking about it T__T

This is just the cutest thing ever, and I love it. I hope I did it justice!

Photograph - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! (In the request above) You and Peter are watching a movie on a rainy day, and you get distracted by his freckles. Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x Reader (no use of y/n) Genre ! Pure fluff Warnings ! (Slightly steamy) kissing, shirtless Peter, slight innuendo Word Count - 695

" We keep this love in a photograph We made these memories for ourselves Where our eyes are never closing Hearts are never broken And time's forever frozen, still " - Photograph, Ed Sheeran

The way I wrote this so fast because I love it so much is insane. (And I listen to music when I write, therefore the song titles for everything.)

Masterlist Request Guide

It was a rainy day, and those were your favorites. It was a day where you could stay home with the excuse that the weather made DC drivers crazy. It was a day where you could have hot chocolate and popcorn and watch movies all day with candles lit around you. It was a day where you could spend your time with your favorite person in the world. Peter knew how much you loved rainy days, so he would everything he could to make them special for you.

You had finished the popcorn and the hot chocolate, and you and Peter were cuddled up in bed, legs intertwined and covered with a fluffy blanket. You loved how warm Peter was, so you rested your head against his bare chest and wrapped yourself around him like a koala, relishing in the feeling of his skin against yours and listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

You’d picked out the movie Notting Hill, one of your favorites. As Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant displayed their characters’ romance, you couldn’t help but feel like you were in a movie yourself. The steady rhythm of the rain, the ambiance from the candles, and the person you loved the most being by your side created the potential for a romance film.

But you didn’t necessarily want that. You wanted to take a picture of this moment with your mind so that you could remember it forever. You wanted to live in this moment forever.

You looked up at Peter, studying the way his eyes were focused on the television screen, totally invested in the story being told. His lashes were incredibly long—which made you jealous at times—and had the slightest hint of red in them, just like his hair. You loved his hair. When it got long enough, it would curl, and his ginger roots would become more prominent, which is why he kept it cut shorter. It was also the reason why he wouldn’t keep more than a five o’clock shadow; his facial hair was red. That, and he didn’t want to rub your cheeks raw whenever the two of you kissed.

You also appreciated his ginger-ness because it gave him freckles, which was something he despised. His chest and back were sprinkled with them, and you would often connect the dots with your fingertips, which made him crave more of your touch. He would become insatiable whenever you did that.

But then sometimes, you’d gaze up at his face and start to count the infinite amount of freckles there. Some were so faint you could barely see them, but others were more clear, like the ones on his nose. You started there, then made your way to his right cheek, then his forehead, and you worked your way clockwise.

You’d only made it to the left side of his jaw when he caught you staring, and his brows turned downwards in confusion as his nose wrinkled ever so slightly, a sight you found incredibly adorable. “What is it?” He asked, lips quirking up as he noticed the admiration in your eyes.

“I’m counting all the freckles on your face,” you said before turning your elated smile into a serious line. “Now, be quiet. I only got to fifty—“

Peter wasn’t able to hear the last digit of the number because he captured your lips with his. That was another thing you loved; his lips. They were soft and firm at the same time, and the way they moved against yours drove you crazy.

One of Peter’s strong hands moved to grip your waist to keep you flush against him, and your shirt rode up slightly. Peter’s fingers pressed into your skin, which had started to grow warm and flushed. You pulled back slightly, staring into Peter’s warm, brown eyes flecked with bits of hazel, his pupils blown wide in his desire for you.

“What brought this on?” You asked, your voice now breathless.

Peter brushed his nose against yours. “You love my freckles, so I love you.”

“Well,” you hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think I’m in love with more than your freckles.”

Keep sending in requests! Fluff, headcanons, (I'll even attempt at smut?), send it all!

[misscongeniality18]

Hi! Could you like to write something about reader and Peter where she knows him since forever and growing up they have fallen in love with eachother. Anyway at some point they split and later they meet again (maybe she is an FBI agent too and he asks for her help with Rose?). Then they argue because something dangerous happens so the truth? Thank you so much for your time!

I would absolutely love to! This idea is just *chef's kiss* but I hope you don't mind if I change and add a few things?

Still Falling For You, Part One - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! Peter meets another agent assigned to protect Rose, and to his surprise, it's his high school sweetheart--you. (Starts after Peter spent the night on the couch outside of Farr's office.) Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Genres ! Friends-to-lovers, (sort of) enemies-to-lovers Warnings ! Angst, fluff, language, violence, no use of y/n Disclaimers ! Everything I know about the FBI is from TV shows, so this might be an unintentional crossover with Criminal Minds? Idk, it just happened Word Count - 1733

" It took us a while Because we were young and unsure With love on the line What if we both would need more But all your flaws and scars are mine Still falling for you " - Still Falling For You, Ellie Goulding

Requests are still open, but please be patient! Thank you!

Masterlist Request Guide Part Two

Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After making it through a car chase, managing to stay hidden through the night, and getting Rose safely to the hotel, Farr wanted to add another agent to the detail protecting her—a personal agent in the hotel room while the Secret Service remained in the lobby.

“Think of it as a gaining a partner,” she said. “This agent is coming straight from the head office. She was top of her class and is one of the best criminal profilers on the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico. POTUS was close friends with her mother, so she pulled a few strings to get her to come here on special assignment.”

As he considered it, Peter supposed it would be nice to have someone with Rose while he could go back to Night Action. If something were to happen, he would need to be there to answer the phone. Rose memorizing the phone number only proved how much she was freaked out by the situation she was in. He’d stayed on the line and talked to her through the night just to reassure her that everything would be alright.

“Here she is now,” Farr said, looking over Peter’s shoulder and calling out a familiar name, and the sound of it made his skin break out in gooseflesh.

At first, Peter thought it was just a coincidence, another agent having the same name as you. But when you stepped around the corner into the foyer of Farr’s office, Peter was spiraling backwards through time to his high school days, to a time of laughter and holding hands, to sweet kisses in the rain and feverish ones underneath the bleachers. Peter was brought back to a time before his life fell to pieces.

The two of you had grown up next door to one another, quickly becoming best friends. When Peter’s mother died, your own mother offered to help Peter’s father with taking Peter to school and basketball practices, to feed him dinner when he had to work late, to help keep order in their lives. Whenever Peter wasn’t in his own home, he would be at yours, and as you grew older, you and Peter would only grow closer.

It came as no surprise when the two of you had started dating. Your parents had even hoped it would happen. You and Peter had known each other the way no one else did. And through your relationship, you had been each other’s firsts. First kiss, first love, first everything. It was epic, but even epic things can come to an end.

When you both were sixteen, Peter’s father was arrested. The two of you had tried to get his name cleared, but then Pete Sr. died, and the rumors speculated that it was either a car accident or suicide. That had been Peter’s downfall. You had tried to be there for him, but he slowly pulled away from you. He would stay home and have cereal for dinner instead of coming to your house for a home-cooked meal. He would walk to basketball practice instead of getting a ride from you on your way to cheer practice. He would stop answering your phone calls and send you to voicemail. He even stood you up on the night of your senior prom.

Eventually, you’d had enough. You walked up to his front door and rang the bell, but he hadn’t even answered. You knew he was inside. You could see him sitting on the couch.

“Peter,” you had called out. “I know you’re struggling, but you need to talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t.”You thought that might stir him to move, but Peter hadn’t budged.

“Look, Pete, I don’t know if I can continue waiting for you. I don’t—“ You choked on your tears, and a few had managed to escape. “I don’t think we can be together anymore. I’m sorry.”

That was the first thing Peter thought of when he saw you again, the sound of you crying. He’d kept up with how you’d been after graduating high school through your mom’s posts on Facebook. He saw the pictures of your college years, of Spring Break trips and summer vacations that he no doubt would’ve been on if the two of you had stayed together.

When your mother died in an accident during your sophomore year of college, the posts stopped, and Peter couldn’t bring himself to look at your profile or even contact you. He’d felt horrible after how he treated you when his father died, and he didn’t want to add salt to the wound when your mother passed.

Even after ten years, you still managed to look as beautiful as you did back then, only more professional and grown up. Your face had sharper features, but your eyes were still soft and kind, reminding Peter of lazy summer afternoons laying in the sun. Oh, how he had loved looking into your eyes.

And now, he still couldn’t seem to look away.

Peter was surprised to see you, even more so as an FBI agent like him. You’d always had an interest in criminal justice, intending to become a lawyer after completing your undergrad, but Peter never would have guessed that you would turn to psychology and become a profiler. He supposed it might be useful for protecting Rose from the whackjobs who were after her.

“Peter,” you gaped, startled to be seeing him again.

He breathed your name, reminding you of the last time he sighed with your name on his lips, and the thought made you blush. You cleared your throat, your voice tightening. “How are you?”

He stared down at you, and it was frustrating that he was still freakishly tall. At least, compared to your height. “Um, I’m fine. You?”

“Fine.”

Diane Farr looked between the both of you with narrowed eyes. “Do you two know each other?”

You nodded.  “We grew up together.”

“And we dated,” Peter continued, and you shot him a glare. He should not be bringing up your personal history together at the workplace.

Farr raised a brow. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“No, ma’am. It won’t,” Peter assured, and he looked at you for confirmation.

You nodded. “No, ma’am.”

“Good. Why don’t you join Peter to see Rose at the hotel?”

You pressed your lips together and nodded again, trying to keep your words to a minimum, because if you were to speak, you were afraid that you would say a lot more than you intended.

Peter led you outside to the car. You started toward the driver’s side, so used to being the one who drove whenever you were in a car with Peter. However, Peter beat you to it, and you glared at him in frustration. “So you can drive now?”

The banter between you picked up as if you’d never spent any time apart, only with more anger and hostility. “Yes, I can drive.”

As you slid into the passenger seat, you studied him, seeing the change in him from the stubborn teenager to mature and suave adult he’d grown into. You also couldn’t help but notice that he’d bulked up a little, too.

You blinked, returning to your annoyed expression. “At least I don’t have to drive you around anymore.”

“You were the one who offered. You are older than me, so you got your license first.”

You glared at him. “By only four months. Besides, you kept failing, so I had to keep driving.”

“Are we really arguing about this right now?”

“You tell me.”

Peter sighed, a grin spreading across his lips. “Still as obstinate as ever.”

“You’re one to talk,” you retorted.

“And you still like to have the last word, good to know. I’m still wondering why you never followed through with becoming a lawyer.”

You swiveled your head to face him, your eyes narrowed and frightening. “Who said I didn’t?”

“So you’re a lawyer and an agent?”

“Double major in psychology and criminal justice, and I went to law school, so yes, I’m a lawyer and an agent.”

Peter shifted in his seat, his eyes checking the car’s mirrors every once in a while. He wasn’t sure what to say. You’d done more than he expected, and he couldn’t help but swell with pride over your accomplishments. After all this time, you were still amazing.

“What made you decide to become a profiler?” He asked, glancing in your direction before turning back to the road.

Your chest tightened, and your throat began to ache. “My mom.”

“You mean her accident?”

You clasped your hands together in your lap, head lowered. “It wasn’t an accident.”

“What?”

The car jerked as Peter spun to face you. You grabbed the ‘oh shit’ handle as you cried, “Watch it, Peter!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, correcting himself and the vehicle. “What do you mean it wasn’t an accident?”

You sighed, leaning back in your seat. “She was killed in a bank robbery. Two unsubs, a classic case of a dominant and submissive. She tried to talk one of them down, but he shot her instead. She talked to the submissive, who would’ve done anything for the dominant’s approval—“

You caught sight of Peter staring at you as he pulled up to the hotel and put the car into park. “I studied the security camera’s footage after I joined the BAU. I won’t go into the technical details to bother you, but my boss wasn’t happy that I was looking into cases without permission. He let it slide though, as long as I promised I wouldn’t do it again.”

Peter grinned at you, the same mischievous smile that would make your heart flutter when you were younger. “Still have that rebellious streak, huh?”

You refused to let the blush form on your cheeks, but you still bit your lip in embarrassment.

Peter noticed that little action, and it still drove him crazy. He cleared his throat, taking the keys out of the ignition. “Are you ready to meet Rose?”

You nodded. “What’s she like?”

Peter smiled again, and the butterflies filled you once again. “For as well as I know you, I have a feeling that the two of you would be nothing but twin pains in my ass.”

You quirked your lips in a smirk. “There is nothing I would enjoy more.”

Yeah, I rolled with this idea and didn't want to make it too long, so it's going to need a part two.

[misscongeniality18]

I’d love to read a fic about Peter and Rose having the Zoe conversation and how that ended. Whatever interpretation or head canon you have for what that relationship was like, I’d love to read it!

Okay, wow, I honestly didn't expect to be stumped on my first request! I'll give it a shot though. I won't dwell too much on the character or personality of Zoe because we really don't know much about her other than what we heard from the few conversations of how the relationship ended, so I'll write a little scene about that?

Go Ahead and Watch My Heart Burn - The Night Agent

Synopsis ! Peter comes home expecting to find his fiancee there but discovers something else. Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x Zoe, Peter Sutherland x Cisco Jenkins, Peter Sutherland x Rose Larkin (just briefly) Warnings ! heartbreak, some language, angst maybe? let me know if I missed anything Word Count - 957

" I'll sit and watch your car burn With the fire that you started in me But you never came back to ask it out So go ahead and watch my heart burn With the fire that you started in me But I'll never let you back to put it out " - watch, Billie Eilish

I'm still taking requests, so give me what you got! I'll try pretty much anything!

Masterlist Request Guide

The first light of dawn was peeking over the horizon when Peter entered his apartment, illuminating the dark hardwood floors with streaks of orange and gold. He was just settling into the routine of his new job in Night Action, but the new hours were still taking a toll. All he wanted to do after a night shift answering a phone that never rang was to climb into bed next to Zoe.

He'd slide between the covers gently so he wouldn't wake her and press a soft kiss to her temple. Zoe would smile in her sleep, and Peter would wrap his arms around her, burying his face in her hair--carefully, because he still had a few tender scratches from the night of the metro bombing--for the precious few hours they'd be in bed together. It was one of his favorite places to be in the world.

He couldn't wait until the day they said I do.

After the metro bombing, Peter knew that he'd grown distant, and he wanted to change that. The Rome Tome brought up everything with his father and blamed him for the incident, and Peter threw himself into his work. He'd accepted Diane Farr's offer because it was a way to lay low and keep his head down while trying to clear his name and his father's, but that was difficult without any proof.

Something Zoe said during their few passing hours together yesterday struck a chord deep within him. "You're never here, Peter, what do you want me to do?"

All he had asked was if she wanted to get breakfast as a way to spend time together.

Hopefully, she'd thought about that moment as much as he did and was willing to make this work.

Peter loosened his tie and stripped off his jacket as he turned the corner to enter the bedroom, and when he did, he froze in the doorway.

Zoe wasn't there.

No matter, Peter thought as he continued to undress, maybe she had gotten up early to surprise him with breakfast tacos from their favorite spot down the street like he'd suggested yesterday.

Then he saw the note on his dresser.

Peter,

I am so sorry but...

That was all he was able to read as the engagement ring he'd bought for her slid from between the folded piece of paper. Peter caught it with one hand, and the ethereal way the light caught the diamond made his heart clench.

He knew what the note would say, but he still read it anyway, and he was right. Zoe couldn't handle the distance Peter had subconsciously put between them, so she went back to her family in Texas.

They were over.

Peter sunk onto the edge of the bed, staring at the words on the page. It was so brief, but it said so much. Zoe no longer loved him the way she used to. If she still did, there would be so much more to say.

The page began to blur, and Peter's throat tightened as a tear escaped the corner of his eye. He quickly wiped it away, clearing the ache from his throat with a cough. He didn't know why he bothered; no one was there to see him cry.

How could Zoe have left him with only a short note, or without calling or saying goodbye? Had he really driven her away?

Of course he had. He was too focused on his father's past and how it affected his own present and future. He was too focused on clearing both their names. He was too focused on anything but his fiancee.

His ex-fiancee.

Peter opened the drawer of his bedside table and slammed it shut after throwing in the note and ring. He'd deal with it later.

He stalked to the closet to hang up his suit jacket, but some of Zoe's clothes were still in there. Peter closed the door and let the jacket fall to the floor instead, followed by the rest of his clothes.

The shower he'd taken had lasted for well over an hour, and that was when he let the tears fall. The last time he cried was when his father died, over ten years ago, but somehow, this hurt even more.

The one person he'd chosen to spend the rest of his life with had left him, and Peter felt utterly alone.

He dragged himself out of the shower and flopped onto the bed, his eyes sore and puffy, his throat raw and achy. Peter cursed himself. Why was he crying? It was his fault that Zoe left, he should have expected this.

Peter grabbed his cellphone and dialed the number of the first person he could go to to lift his mood.

"Petey, what's up? Why are you up past your bedtime?"

Peter swallowed. "Um, Zoe left me, Cisco."

"Shit, man. That's fucked up." Peter could hear Cisco sigh. "Are you working later?"

"Uh, no. I'm off."

"Right, get some sleep, and I'll be over later. I got you, brother."

Peter felt his heart lighten just a fraction, but then his chest tightened again. "Thanks, brother."

The call ended, and Peter rolled over, turning away from Zoe's empty side of the bed.

He knew he would get over Zoe, but it would take time. He'd loved her too much and far too long to let her go as fast she did him.

Peter would be okay.

Eventually.

Someday.

He would still be in this mood for a long time, but all he could do now was go to work and answer a phone that never rang.

Until the day that it does, and he would meet the person who would make everything right again.

Not sure how I did for my first post since I wrote this at work, but hopefully I did Peter justice! This honestly broke me a little.

[misscongeniality18]

Okay, I’ve decided I want to write some Peter Sutherland fics, and I need some prompts, so send whatever you want and I’ll give them a try!