#[Morgan]

[angellic4l]

don’t hate the player - d.m

massive thank you’s to @esote-rika @wheresmacoffee @notlongtolove @floraisunwell @mggslover my absolute angels!!!

in which; fem!bau!reader goes to a jazz bar and bumps into the last person she’d ever want to see

content: flirty!derek, fem!bau!reader, angst!!, they fight sort of, reader hates morgan (i promise there’s a point to this) mentions of sex but no one does anything, swearing, alcohol consumption, reader wears a dress and heels

wc: 2.5k

a/n: i see basically no derek fics unless its smut (i dont read that) so i’m showing him some love!! i will continue with spencer fics im just stressing trying to write my ideas for him. kisses!!!

One of the girls’ playlists was blaring in the big bedroom, ‘Cool For The Summer’ reverberating off of the creme walls as each of you were primping and priming yourselves. Hair tools plugged in and on, makeup bags half empty with their contents spread throughout the room, and mirrors almost everywhere.

The night had been planned weeks in advance, and you were lucky enough to get the whole day off instead of having to use a sick day. It was one of your friends’ 27th birthday, and the first time you’d been out with your friends for a while, so all of you were buzzing with excitement.

She wanted to go to a jazz club, to ‘experience that ‘20s aesthetic’, in her words. You absolutely couldn’t wait to be celebrating your friend in a jazz bar, imagining soulful music as the soundtrack to your night, espresso martinis, and just having fun with your friends while you got ready.

Once done fixing your hair, you turned off the curler and unplugged it, setting it back on the heat proof mat before grabbing your hung up dress from the top of a door. You changed in the bathroom, stepping into the dress so as not to mess up your hair. It was the perfect mix of elegant yet sexy, form-fitting in the right places, but not too much skin on show to be deemed inappropriate.

After taking photos with and of the birthday girl, and then a group photo of you all on a polaroid camera, a taxi was ordered to the house. Excitement gathered in your stomach, the realisation that you were actually going out for the first time in forever, to celebrate one of your closest friends’ birthday no less, setting in and making you feel giddy.

As you all walked into the jazz club, you were greeted with a dimly lit room, illuminated with orange lighting to give it that cozy, intimate atmosphere. Red brick walls, decorated with vinyls, paintings, and wall lamps, were lined with brown leather booths. The sweet symphony of the saxophone softly sailed through the place before settling in your ears.

For the first time in a while, you felt alive, truly alive. Of course, working in high stake situations, apprehending some of the worst criminals known to man, and acting in life or death situations constantly fills you with adrenaline. That would be considered as feeling alive by most people, but it isn’t.

In this moment, you felt electric. You were on a high, not because of adrenaline, but because of pure euphoria. The atmosphere was welcoming, intimate, and so full of passion. You and your friends were all sat around a table sharing anecdotes, laughing, drinking, and just having fun. There was nothing to worry about, no nerves about a phone call from Hotch, no having to filter what you say.

It was pure bliss, everything you’d been missing for a while, and you felt like nothing and no one could bring you down from this peak.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Being so in the moment with your friends, enjoying good gossip and reminiscing on your uni days together, meant that you weren’t really checking the time, nor did you care to. Subconsciously though, you figured it had been at least an hour since you’d arrived; 12 five minute songs had been performed, give or take.

Everyone was taking turns buying rounds, the group had agreed on it before the night. It was your turn to buy everyone’s drinks now. The bar was popular, but it wasn’t packed like a club was, and for that you were thankful. Carrying a tray of drinks back to the table, in heels no less, would’ve been a nightmare.

Standing at the deep brown, oak bar, waiting for the drinks, you watch your friends laughing and giggling. The contentment you felt still hadn’t gone away, coursing through your body as if it were inside every red blood cell, depositing this gleeful energy with each pump of your heart. A few moments pass before you turn your attention back to the bar, leaning on it ever so slightly, observing how the drinks are made.

Suddenly, you feel a presence to the side of you, but you figure it’s just another patron buying a drink. Then, there’s a voice. An all too familiar voice that seems to not only pull you down from your euphoric high, but plummet you deep into the depths of anger, too.

“Pretty girl, fancy seeing you here,” he almost sings and you can hear the arrogant smirk on his face without even turning to face him.

“Morgan. Please, for the love of all things good, do not talk to me,” you try to remain as civil as possible, he hasn’t actually done anything yet, and you’re not horrible.

Derek raises his hands in some mock surrender, but his smirk never wavers. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to humble him, wipe that smirk off of his face, and bring his ego down a few notches. Immensely gratifying, you’d decided a while ago.

To put it simply, Derek Morgan was everything you hated about men in today’s society. He was a cocky, arrogant, bastard with little to no regard for people’s feelings. And the worst thing? He talked about women as if they were conquests, notches in his bedpost, trophies for his fucking shelf. It pissed you off to no end, how he could act like the women he ‘dated’ or slept with weren’t real people who deserved basic human decency.

But, you worked with him, day in and day out, and you weren’t about to lose your job over someone as insufferable as him. Besides, as much as you could hate his self proclaimed ‘CasaNova’ ways, he was damn good at his job, and he hadn’t done anything to you directly. He was fully unaware of the stance you’d taken against him, and he hadn’t done anything to require you airing out your grievances. Yet.

A long suffering sigh escapes your gloss coated lips as you come to terms with these facts, realising you can’t be hostile to your coworker, even if you’re not at work, because he doesn’t even know you have a problem with him.

“Look, Morgan, I’m sorry for that, but I’m here with my friends, celebrating, and I want absolutely nothing to do with work right now,” you murmur, still leaning across the bar.

“Look, mama, I get it. Jus’ didn’t wanna be rude, that’s all,” his tone is soft, softer than you’ve ever heard Morgan speak, and it’s filled with understanding. To say you’re shocked would be an understatement.

The pair of you exchange small smiles, a fleeting farewell, before he grabs his drink and leaves. Maybe you’ve misunderstood him, even if you don’t agree with what he stands for, and maybe you’ve been too impulsive with your initial judgements. Derek Morgan is a dick, but maybe he isn’t always a dick.

Drinks are passed around the table, manicured hands grabbing at various coloured liquids in different shaped glasses. Euphoria is long gone after your interaction with Derek, no longer on that high of serenity but in a sea of uncertainty. You won’t let yourself be a Debby downer on your friend’s birthday, though. Being a profiler means knowing all of your own tells, so you mask them well, putting up a front of glee until it isn’t fake anymore.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Jazz music speaks to the soul, transcending all borders, dimensions, and whatever the hell else Reid talks about, to reach the quintessence of your being. Rhythmic notes reach deep until they’re at the core of you, becoming a balm to the very essence of yourself.

Being surrounded by something so passionate and deep works quickly to heighten your mood once more. The sea of uncertainty parts for serenity’s peak, the fake smile becoming real, and the way Derek’s surprising attitude had shifted your mood is washed away.

Out of nowhere, a server comes over to the table with a tray full of everyone’s exact orders, seemingly confident about the table number. She smiles at you, but your brow furrows with confusion.

“Oh, these can’t be for us, I just bought drinks,” you explain, confusion painting your face even more, bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly and a small wrinkle in between your eyebrows.

“No, no, they are! That guy over there just ordered them all for you. Don’t worry, he didn’t touch them, just bought ‘em,” the server explains, pointing to none other than Derek Morgan, sitting at the bar.

All of the girls’ heads whip over to look in his direction, finding the man sitting on a bar stool next to his friends, but his attention isn’t on any of the guys. Instead, his gaze is on you, a soft smile playing at his lips, watching expectantly. For what, you don’t know, but it seems shady. If you know anything about Derek, it’s that he doesn’t do things that don’t benefit him directly. God, it’s almost too predictable, sending drinks to a table of pretty girls, hoping to luck out and get some.

Clearly, your own friends don’t share the same sentiment, because there’s a chorus of ‘awh’s once they recognise him as Derek. None of them have met him before, but they’ve seen pictures, having stalked each of the BAU members after your transfer request had been accepted.

The birthday girl says your name, almost as if you’d personally offended her, while hitting your arm lightly. For a moment, you’re afraid Derek sending you all drinks genuinely did offend her, but she’s speaking before the worry takes root.

“You didn’t tell us he was hot! My god, look at those muscles,” she raves, rolling her bottom lip beneath her teeth while staring at him past your head.

“Hot? You’re kidding, right? He’s awful.”

“He just bought us all drinks! That’s not awful, that’s lovely.”

“No, but he’s not actually like that. It’s just a ploy!”

“Not everyone has ulterior motives. I think you’re letting all that crime stuff get to your head.”

“You don’t see him like I see him, he’s really no-“ she cuts you off.

“Can I go for it? Am I his type?”

You actually have to bite back a scoff at that, because anyone that breathes is basically Derek Morgan’s type. He’s not good enough for your friend, not for any of them, but you know her well enough to see that she won’t listen to a bad word you say against him now. Truthfully, you’re resigned, you don’t care, it’s her choice. If she wants to make the bed and share it with him, she can lie in it, too.

“You’re stunning, of course you’re his type. Be my guest,” and the second the words are out of your mouth, she’s walking over to him like a lioness about to pounce on her prey.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

For the rest of the girls, two drinks becomes four, then shots, and before they know it they’re slurring their words, no longer making any sense. Of course, you’d come out tonight to celebrate your friend’s birthday, to have fun and let loose, but you also know that at least one of you needs to be somewhat sober.

Not to say you’re entirely sober, because your inhibitions are definitely a little loose, but it’s the kind of drunk that reduces your filter and boosts your confidence. You’re still in full control of yourself, just maybe not your mouth. Or your bladder’s strength, ever since you broke your seal.

Walking back from the bathrooms through a larger crowd than there was before isn’t too difficult, but the singer on stage now is semi-famous in the jazz world, so people are treating the bar like a concert, standing in your way. Succeeding in your mission to get through the crowd, your speed picks up once you’re in the clear, the clack of your heels becoming more frequent.

In your rush back to your friends, you aren’t properly taking in your surroundings, gaze trained on the table to ensure they’re all alright. Thus, you’re quickly met with something hard, prompting your foot to slip, and you stumble backwards.

A large hand reaches out quickly, grabbing your hip to stabilise you and resting there to make sure you’re alright.

“Watch your step, pretty girl,” the hand says and you know the voice too well, the nickname slipping off of his tongue like it’s nothing, and suddenly your eyes are on Derek Morgan’s face once more.

How fucking embarrassing.

“Oh gosh, ‘m so sorry, I didn’t even realise,” you rush out, not even thinking about the fact that the man you have a massive issue with has his hand on your hip still.

“Don’t apologise. You can push up on me anytime you want to, sweet thing,” his voice is smooth, tone suggestive, and the smirk on his face is one you’ve seen plenty of times before. When he’s talking to pretty female police officers on a case, after he gets a girl’s number, when he’s talking about his rendezvous to Rossi at work. The fact that it’s being directed at you makes you feel a bit sick, to be honest, and it’s definitely not the martinis.

Any and all uncertainty you had about Derek Morgan’s character is gone in a flash, as is the serenity, and is instead replaced by an overwhelming fire of rage because he is exactly what you thought he was. He’s a pig, a disgusting one at that, and no small one off conversation, or him buying your friends drinks, or how good he is with kids, or how great he is at the job will ever change that in your eyes.

While the alcohol may not be making you feel sick, it’s definitely doing a whole lot for this rage, feeding the flames and giving you the confidence to finally give Morgan a piece of your mind. However, you still have some semblance of self control and so, you hold back a little, but not completely.

“As if, Morgan.”

“Pretty girl, you don’t gotta play hard to get.”

His arrogance drips from every word that leaves his mouth, seeping from his pores like sap from a tree. The fact he genuinely believes that you aren’t saying no, is so full of himself he believes your dismissal is you ‘playing hard to get’ enrages you even more, fueling the fire of your rage for the last time. Grabbing his hand on your hip and shoving it off, you start talking, tone as bitter as ever.

“I am not playing hard to get, Morgan. I simply do not want you.”

“Woah, sweetheart, what’s all the hostility for?”

“Because you’re a classic player! You have no respect for women. You just think they’re there for you to fuck and move on.”

“You know what they say - ‘Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“No. I do hate the player. You’re a self centered, egotistical, whorish bastard who doesn’t see women as anything but notches on his fucking bedpost. You don’t have any fucking respect for anyone that isn’t beneficial to you. People are not pawns in your game, women are not queens waiting to be conquered. Grow the fuck up, Morgan.”

Your words wiped the stupid smirk right off of his stupid face, left him speechless and expressionless, like a deer in headlights. Like your words, you left him standing there too, heading back to your friends at the booth. You were right. It was immensely gratifying.

tags: @darkmatilda

[lampreylarry]

Surprise Hug

Happy Birthday Severa!

A cute art commission i got from ArayaEjiri on twitter

Morgan giving Severa a big birthday hug

so cute😊

[bloodfail]

Behold! The dance of death!

[twigsyy]

Guidance Hound

[thekingofspin]

IM NOT KIDDING PEOPLE NEED TO STOP MAKING JOKES ABOUT LOGAN HOWLETTS MANY LOVERS BECAUSE I CANT KEEP LAUGHING LIKE THIS ILL ACTUALLY STOP BREATHING

i saw someone say "he gets passed around that mansion like the communal kitchen scissors" and I'm actually not okay

I cannot breathe I'm laughing so hard

[anyataylorjoys]

#Anya Taylor-Joy covered in blood cinematic universe

THE WITCH (2015) dir. Robert Eggars MORGAN (2016) dir. Luke Scott THOROUGHBREDS (2017) dir. Cory Finley LAST NIGHT IN SOHO (2021) dir. Edgar Wright THE MENU (2022) dir. Mark Mylod AMSTERDAM (2022) dir. David O. Russell FURIOSA: A MAD MAX SAGA (2024) dir. George Miller

[kaguma-yururi]

[mrn0093]

[ghostlude]

more of boothill and his baby (feat my oc bc im crazy and might write angst of these three later teehee)

[rennebright]

commission by kakeku [Twitter/X] ※Illustration shared with permission from the artist. If you like this artwork please support the artist by visiting the source.

[mrsarnold]

omgg you should write morgan cheli who has a crush on reader thats a cheerleader for uconn. she’s always trying to get your attention and eventually she does

— flaming hot cheetos ✩ morgan c.

syn : Your a cheerleader at Uconn and your friends with a specific group of basketball players but one of the players catches your eye.

pair : morgan cheli x cheerleader!reader

warn : pure fluff, mo being head over heels, cussing, kissing

note : feeling sparkly today so heres some fluff

the gravity of the air hit you when you were threw up in the air. you were practicing stunts for the upcoming game womens basketball game half time. after a few seconds in the air you landed safely back in your cheermates hands.

when you landed you were greeted by claps which made you turn into the direction of the claps. the loudest were from KK arnold as you turn to the group of girls who were sitting in the bleachers watching you and team practice. you quickly waved at her and your eyes tranced to a brunette girl.

you've seen her before but never spoke to her. your stared at her for a moment, she was laughing at something KK told her. you weren't sure what but you were snapped out of it by your coach.

"alright ladies, great practice today", my coach said as she clapped her hands as a sign to wrap it up. you started grabbing my stuff and headed towards the girls on the bench. you were met by KK and Paige running up to you, pulling you into a huge hug.

as they pulled away KK squealed, "OMGGGG you ate downnn girlll. anywho imma introduce you to the rest of the team." she jumped up and down as she wrapped her arm around you and start walking each girl introducing each one. when she stopped as the last one i looked up met with the familiar brunette.

"so this is Morgan !! she real chill shes just like me!!!", KK said pointing to Morgan then to you. morgan smiled at you then said, "yea its nice to meet you!! heard a lot about you from kk and paige."

you smiled, slightly blushing at the the thought of her getting a earfull about me. you took in the brunette's appearance quickly before KK dragged you off with a O shaped mouth. "girly i know you weren't just checking out Mo", she said shocked.

"i was not !! it was just the first time meeting her y'know i do that to everyone", you said looking around. that part was a bit of a lie but who makes the rules? i quickly waved goodbye to KK and everyone else before heading off to your dorm.

Once you made it to your dorm you got a notification.

*Morgancheli has followed you on all platforms!"

you quickly followed her back on all a bit taken back from it. you decided to go take a shower after a long practice, when you got out and was welcomed by a notification on your phone :

Morgan Cheli :

uhh hey are you the girl from earlier?

as soon as you saw the text you realized KK gave her your socials. you silently cussed KK out in your mind before texting morgan back.

yea your morgan right?

um yeah KK told me to text you

ohhh how r u ?? :)

the two of you continued to talk until you fell asleep. all you could think of was her. you knew yall just met but it was really "love at first sight". these long conversations laster for weeks.

the team knew and had a feeling y'all liked eachother but yall didn't wanna admit it. rather it was unexpected cuddles or before games meet ups, y'all were falling for eachother.

morgan decided to take you to a arcade during her off day from practice. she of course challenged you to every game she saw. y'all ended the hang out (date) at the claw machine.

after two tries she got won you a blue snorlax and you were happy. the two of you were walking back to her car, you were skipping as she was laughing. you stopped skipping infront of the car before you fell.

"so mo.. i have to tell you something", you said turning around to face her looking a little nervous. "yea whats up", she said smiling. "i really like you, like, like like you but its ok if you don't like me back", you said rambling blushing in embarrassment.

she was taken back a bit by your confession, before she could answer some levitated her closer to you. she captured your lips into a kiss before backing up with a smile. "i like you too, your really cute when your nervous", she said smiling

"so will you be my girlfriend", you asked as all the nerves left you. she nodded and the night ended well.

taggies : @star-girl69 @hrtslaces @chelisbae @patscorner @kamii-2 @cosmopretty @lovermcres

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Morgan Midsummer, 2024, by Pininfarina. A limited edition barchetta which is the result of a collaboration between two of the longest-established coachbuilders in the world. It is based on Morgan's CX-Generation Bonded Aluminium Platform and features a BMW 6-cylinder turbocharged engine and eight-speed automatic transmission. It will be built in an edition of 50 cars

[lampreylarry]

Justice Cabal strikes a pose!

An amazing art commission I just got from @hiomaika on twitter

I love it alot! 😊

Owain, Morgan, and Cynthia are striking very familiar poses, Do you recognize them? 👀

also an additional alt of Owain putting more of his flair into it.

[strawberryswirlix]

day 3: language

[twigsyy]