triptuckers

[triptuckers]

[triptuckers]

what they don’t tell you about writing is AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! AAAAAAAAAAHH!!!

[triptuckers]

the first rule of writing is that there are no rules. the second rule is to save your work every 5 minutes because technology is a fickle god.

[triptuckers]

every writer knows the pain of having an idea that’s “too good” to write because you know you can’t do it justice

[triptuckers]

it is the perfect direction.

Bradley 'rooster' Bradshaw x F!reader

summary: reader needs help with her dress.

t/w: some nice fluff. I don't think there are any.

the red dress clings to your body in all the right places. running your hands down the front, the beads and sequins lay perfectly where they should. the slit on your left leg is almost a little too high to be appropriate, but it showcases your heels amazingly.

“roos, will you come zip me up?”

bradley steps into the room, his nose stuck in his book. when his eyes land on you, the book falls to the ground.

a low whistle comes from his mouth. “wow.”

stepping over to you, his hands slid onto your hips. he holds your gaze in the reflection. bradley places kisses along your neck, pulling you flush against him.

"you." he places a kiss under your ear. "look," a kiss on your neck. "amazing," a kiss on your shoulder.

his nose draws a line up your neck as those large hands squeeze your hips. he catches the slit in your dress and brings one hand down to the top of your thigh.

"scandalous," he murmurs in your ear. Bradley begins reigning kisses over every inch of exposed skin causing you to giggle.

giggle. Bradley Bradshaw is the only man who has ever made you giggle.

"roooos," you whine. "you need to zip me up so we can leave."

Bradley places a kiss between your shoulder blades and a shiver runs down your spine. his hand gently takes the zipper in his hand. you managed to get the zipper halfway up before calling for him.

he begins to line kisses along your spine, and pulls the zipper south.

"Bradley," you say. "that's the wrong direction."

"absolutely not," he says against your body. "it is the perfect direction. how 'bout we blow off the party?"

turning in his arms, you throw your arms around his neck. "I cannot let this dress go to waste."

a smirk appears on that beautiful face. "I'm not intending on wasting it." he leans down, taking his mouth in yours. you melt into his embrace. nothing compares to the way he makes you feel. he absolutely sets your on fire.

"come on, lieutenant. we both look too hot not to turn up at this party," you tell him, gripping the lapels of his coat.

his brow quirks up. "you think I'm hot?" he teases.

you answer with a deep kiss. Bradley groans against your mouth, pulling you to him. as he kisses you, he works the zipper up your back.

"I will be unzipping that later," he whispers into your neck.

[triptuckers]

[triptuckers]

*struggles while writing* i suck and writing is hard

*remembers some ppl use ai* i am a creative force. i am uncorrupted by theft and indolence. i am on a journey to excellence. it is my duty to keep taking joy in creating.

[triptuckers]

if you ever wonder whether your ao3 comments make a difference know that i frequently go back and read old comments on my fics to get a dose of happy rainbow sunshine

[triptuckers]

Wishing all of you a very merry "I suddenly have the motivation and time to write a minimum 10k fic"... please

[triptuckers]

Shy!reader and post prison Spence - the first time he calls her a pet name? I love that your Spencers always use “honey” or “dove” or “love” and we know she’d be a mess.

P.S. completely agree with how much I love the gentleness of your characters. The way you write Spencer in love is literally my favorite

ty for requesting <3 fem

“Are you sure it’s okay?” 

Spencer holds a hanging strap. You hold your own, core tense with the movement of the train. “I think I would’ve mentioned it before you got on the train if it weren’t.” 

You nod, glancing around the traincar at the other passengers. There's a stout lady wearing a large fluffy sweater, turquoise with two white kittens at her chest nuzzling one another in knit. A man with three bags of groceries sits just beside her. Further down, a teenage girl listens to music through leaking headphones, her phone reflecting blue light on her cheeks. 

“But are you sure I won’t be an imposition?” 

“You aren’t usually. I guess we won’t know until we get there.” 

“Maybe I should just find a hotel for the night.” 

“Y/N, I’m kidding. You’re not an imposition, it won’t be a problem. There’s enough room at my apartment for you to stay however long you want. Between all the books, that is.” 

It’s just not something you pictured asking him for. Your kitchen flooded in your apartment and the landlord had to put you up in a hotel until he could get someone in to make sure the stove wasn’t about to explode or catch light. But the idea of a hotel is rough torture —somewhere unfamiliar, living out of a suitcase, surrounded by people you don’t know without a door that locks properly. Spencer caught you sweating over it at your desk, pulling the story from you in reluctant drags with a hand on your shoulder. 

It’ll be okay, he said, you can just stay with me. 

Which is relieving and somehow a new can of worms to deal with. At least at a hotel there was no chance of seeing Spencer in a towel. Spencer seeing you in a towel, in your pyjamas, without your formal office protections. 

The worst part is the excitement. 

Terrified he’ll see it on your face, you stare at your shoes next to his. Spencer… Everyone told you he was a dork. When you joined the team in his absence, not once did you get the impression that the man who’d be coming back was like this. You feel like he’d been infantilised. Which isn’t to say he isn’t a dork, he is, he tells you the strangest things, facts or statistics to accompany each topic of the day, and he has all the manners and chivalry of someone who knows what it’s like to be as painfully shy as you are. But he isn’t shy. 

Autistic, he’d confided once. Probably. I’m better at dealing with it now. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“Nervous.” 

“I know.” He grasps your arm as the train screeches on tracks, turning a tight bend. You’re grateful, but immediately flushed with heat. 

“I don’t want to embarrass myself.” 

“You couldn’t. I think I know you too well already.”

“You’ve known me for less time than the rest of the team, but you were the first person to offer me a place to stay.” You clench the rickety handle of your suitcase. “Thank you.” 

“That’s okay, angel.” He says it simply and softly, like you really are an angel. Something breathless to wait with. 

Angel, you think, heart skipping a beat, pulse slow and then suddenly ramped. 

His arm slips behind your back. “I don’t want you to stay in a hotel if it’s going to scare you. Besides, it’ll be fun. Like a sleepover.” He laughs. And you, despite your flush, heat sinking across your chest like a bruise, manage to laugh back. “I’ve never had one before.” 

“What?” 

“Never had a sleepover. I didn’t have any friends in school, and I haven’t had a girlfriend stay the night before.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, expecting a retraction. Not that you’re my girlfriend, not that you’re anything like that at all. 

He smiles at you. “Should we get takeout?”

“What were you thinking?” 

“There’s an Indian restaurant between the station and my apartment? We can stop in. Or we can order something to come. Or I can cook, if you want home cooked.” 

“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to cook–”

His lips turn to a quizzical pout. “I don’t mind.”

You want him to call you angel again. You want him to take you home, make you dinner, and you want to sleepover. Like a girlfriend, you want to wake up in his bed. 

“Sorry,” you breathe, “I think I’m just tired.” 

“Are you sure?” You nod. “Alright. I was worried you didn’t like the pet name, but your pupils dilated when I said it–”

You can’t escape him. One hand in the hanging strap above, the over on your suitcase handle, you have no choice but to stand there with his arm around you to keep you from falling, face so hot with it that you’re sure you’d be feverish to the touch. “It’s fine,” you say, too afraid to look at his face that you end up staring at the nice shape of his throat, his black and purple tie. “Call me what you want. Um, I think we should get Indian.” 

“Good choice, angel.” 

[triptuckers]

a flash of silver - mick rawson

Request: nope Pairing:  mick rawson x reader Summary:  you have something to ask of mick and you’re only slightly nervous he’s going to say no Warnings:  little angst?? reader is a bit anxious thats all Word count: 1k A/N: listen I know suspect behavior came out in 2011 but I only just watched it. anyways, the lack of mick fics on here is criminal. luckily I have a deadline coming up that I don’t care about so I have unlimited free time. enjoy!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

the evening itself had been pretty good. normal, mick would say. you'd arrived back in quantico earlier that day, after solving a case in chicago. it had been a very stressful one, so everyone in the team was happy to get back home and relax.

at least until another lunatic needed to be caught and put behind bars. but that would be a problem for the future.

you'd invited mick back to your place to have dinner and unwind after a long flight. he had happily agreed, every excuse to spend more time with you was an opportunity he grabbed with both hands.

gina would often tease you about being the first girl in a while mick settled for. everyone knew the countless stories of mick's dates. but that was all in the past.

the two of you had been dating for quite a while now. when you first told the team - after prophet walked in on you and mick making out and had blackmailed you for a week - it was a bit awkward, but soon they understood you and mick really cared for each other and you didn't do your job any differently.

it became a habit to go to one of your place's together. you'd most likely end up at yours, given that you had more space and mick had some particularly loud neighbours.

tonight wasn't any different, except mick had noticed some changes in your behaviour. he wouldn't exactly be good at his job if he hadn't.

when you walked through the door, you both dropped your bags. you changed into more comfortable clothes while mick called his sister to check in on her and tell her briefly about the case.

afterwards, you cooked together, a simple but nice meal. mick had noticed the way you were fidgeting with a bracelet on our wrist during dinner. at first, he thought you were just tired, but then he remembered you took a nap on the plane home.

though he knew you really well, at that moment mick had no idea what was going on in your head.

meanwhile, you are trying to think of the perfect time to give mick his gift.

but just as mick had noticed your change in behaviour, you had also noticed his. you could tell mick was watching you more closely. there was only so much either of you could hide from your profiler partner.

after dinner, you decided you couldn't wait any longer. either you'd freak out or mick would guess something was up.

'I got something for you.' you say, jumping right into it.

mick raises his eyebrows at you. so there it finally is. you got something for him? after a split second, panic sets it.

'oh god, did I forget an anniversary?' he says.

you chuckle softly, some of the worries in your mind easing away. 'no anniversary.' you say.

'a birthday?'

'also no.'

'another milestone?'

'no. wait-'

mick watches as you get a confused look on your face while you're thinking hard. then you shake your head.

'no, also no milestones. no big celebrations we missed.' you say.

'what do you have for me?' asks mick.

you smile at him and get up to walk over to the kitchen. you open the junk drawer which contains, well, junk. it was the one place you thought mick wouldn't think to look.

you push some of the loose change, old receipts and lonely buttons away and pull out a rectangular velvet box with a bow on it.

walking back to the table, you see mick looking at you with curious eyes.

'you say there's no milestone or celebration but that box looks very fancy, love.' he points out.

'it's not.' you say, fidgeting with the ends of the ribbon, feeling your heartbeat start to race again. 'I just want you to know that if you don't want it, that's totally cool and I'll just take it back. there won't be any hard feelings and it won't change the way I feel about you.'

'kind of scaring me there, darling.'

'no, I promise there's no need to be scared. just want you to know I love you and nothing will ever change that.'

'I love you too.' says mick, taking the box from you.

he shoots you a quick smile before pulling the ribbon off, and carefully opening the box. now that the lid is off, he can see a flash of silver.

mick looks at you again, a smile forming on his lips.

'love is this...'

'a key to my place.'

mick is quiet, but still with a smile on his face.

'I figured we're always together, and my place has more room, and I really don't want to have to deal with your neighbours every day. plus this is closer to work and-'

'y/n, you're rambling love. are you asking me to move in with you?'

mick watches you smile and blush slightly. god, he loves the fact he can still make you blush after all this time.

'yeah.' you say softly. 'but like I said, if you don't-

you're cut off by mick abandoning the velvet box on the table and taking your face in both of his hands, pressing a loving kiss to your lips.

'I would absolutely love that, darling. why on earth would you think I wouldn't want move in with you? we basically live together already.'

'I don't know.' you say. 'it creeped up in my mind and I started overthinking.'

'I've told you before, I'd do anything for you love, no need to overthink this. or us, for that matter.'

'I know, I know. sometimes I just can't help it.'

'how about I show you how excited I am to move in with you?' says mick, getting up and grabbing your hand.

'we need to do the dishes, though, before they-'

'the dishes can wait.' says mick firmly, pulling you to your - now shared - bedroom.

A/N: thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit

[triptuckers]

what would yall say if I told you I'm working on some mick mawson fics? is that fandom still active

[triptuckers]

reminder: it’s not writer’s block; you’re just giving your characters time to think about their mistakes. very generous of you.

[triptuckers]

already read all of the mick rawson fics on here, time to write my own 💅🏻

[triptuckers]

“ Car sex looks so much more easier in the movies. ” with mick rawson?

The whole team turned their eyes on Mick, and he stilled, eyes shutting, before he sighed, and ducked his head.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pulling out his phone, and moving away a few steps, as he answered. “Rawson.”

“I didn’t realize until two seconds before you picked up that you are on a case, oh my God, I’m sorry.” He laughed a little, glancing over his shoulder. 

Keep reading

[triptuckers]

"I wish we could stay like this forever" with mick rawson? I miss my boi I wish suspect behavior was on Netflix :(

It used to be on Netflix. :( That was how I first watched it. I just bought it, lol, last year. Easier. XD

Mick’s arms tightened around you as he shifted, and huffed, breath warm on your neck. It brought a small smile to your face as he snuggled up against you, face buried in your hair. 

Keep reading

[triptuckers]

Accents [Mick Rawson x Reader]

Requested by anon: “Mick Rawson from criminal minds suspect behaviour soulmate au?”

A/N: Hey my dears here is a Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior fic! I used the soulmate au where the first sentence is written on their wrist since the request didn’t specify. I hope you all love it!

_____

‘It’s not just the accent that makes me sexy, love’

That was it, that is what is inscribed on your wrist. Written in delicate cursive, peaking your interest every time you look at it. Being a bartender you’ve come across a lot of men, with a lot of accents. Though none of them have said this particular sentence to you.

Honestly, you’ve given up on the whole ‘soulmate’ thing. You’re in your 30s, if you were going to find him, you would’ve found him by now. Right?

Were you just one day going to be standing at the bar one night and this accented, ‘sexy’ man was going to come over and mutter those words to you? Nope, not something you thought would happen. Little did you know….

You were wiping down the bar when a group of around four came in. The bar being pretty packed, you didn’t take much notice of them because they stayed at a table, not the bar. Making them not your responsibility.

But one of them kept catching your eye, a man with dark hair and was rather rugged looking. You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive. Whenever you’d catch a break your eyes would end up landing over there, on him. The others with him had come up to the bar a few times for refills or a new bottle, but never him. You’d catch his voice every so often, that british accent being rather alluring.

‘Could he be..? Probably not.’ Shaking the thought from your head.

However, you’d catch him looking at you sometimes. But not thinking much of it, figuring he was looking at something next to or behind you.

As the night continued fewer patrons made an appearance, many left and a steady flow took it’s place. One or two people would leave and one or two would come in, that was until it hit past midnight. Then people began to flow out rather than in. Taking a glance at the table once more you noticed the man’s friends had left and he sat fiddling with a beer bottle.

He looked up and caught you looking at him, blushing you hid your face. Smiling sheepishly before turning back to cleaning up the bar and getting ready to make last call. Not noticing as he stood from his seat and came to sit at the bar. When you saw him sitting there you were drying glasses, “You know, I could hear your accent from here all night. It’s kinda sexy.” you grinned widely, making your nose scrunch some. Making him find you adorable.

Laughing he said “It’s not just the accent that makes me sexy, love.” Hearing that, the glass almost slipped out of your hands. Looking to see he was wearing a devilish smirk. You let out a small laugh before setting the glass down.

Walking over and leaning against the bar in front of him, “Well ‘soulmate,’ is there anything I can get you before last call?” smiling at him. “How about a name?” he asked smoothly. You held out a hand, “[F/n] [L/n].” He returned it, “Mick Rawson” his accent giving his name a certain je ne sais quoi.

“Well, [F/n], what are my chances of asking you to dinner love? I mean we are soulmates.” Smiling you diverted your eyes timidly, “I’d say you have a good chance. To be honest I never thought I’d meet my soulmate, I guess when you start to doubt the universe it turns itself around on you.”

He chuckled, “But this time in a good way.” Looking up to meet his brown eyes, saying “I get off in like 15 minutes, what do you say we grab that dinner now?” The smile never leaving your features. “I think I’d like to get to know you now and I know a 24 hour place just up the road who’s owner owes me a favor. I’ve waited all my life love, I can wait 15 more minutes.”

You grinned before finishing up your closing in record time, calling to your boss that you were heading out. “Shall we?” he offered you his arm. Linking yours with his you answered, “We shall, love.”