#GN!READER

[sunvylovebug]

A bath together

↬Warnings: There are mentions of nudity but this is NOT NSFW, Y/N is a killer, mentions of murdering …⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ

↬ Gender Neutral!Reader, they/them pronouns and third person narration (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

↬Author Note: He's such a green flag, such a sweet boy, I want to give Me. Crawling a big hug. Btw finally posting something that has warnings lmao.

↬Summary: Y/N teaching Mr. Crawling about something basic in the daily routine; a warm bath.

↬ Word Count: 1,435 Words

Masterlist

"Mr. Crawling please. I promise you it'll be fun! Fun? You like fun?"

Y/N's question was answered with a vigorous shake of the head. "No... Me no like. No like there. Not going."

"Please? Would you do it for me?" Of course they were gonna try to convince him that way, Mr. Crawling couldn't say no to that look after all.

It's been some days since they left that mysterious world. She went back to her usual activities like going to school and killing people, just the usual stuff for a human their age, right? They have been teaching Mr. Crawling about the human world and the routines that generally develop over time, a very important part of the daily routine is cleaning the body but Mr. Crawling was so hesitant to enter the tub, it was filled with warm water and soap, of course it looked comfy but then why was he acting that way?

Mr. Crawling stood firm in his decision. "Not going."

They sighed. "Would you enter if we did it together? Would you agree that way? You, me, together?"

He smiled and nodded, so he was throwing that whole tantrum so he could be with them. They weren't surprised really, he was a clingy being.

They took off their clothes with some hesitation, how would Mr. Crawling react? Would it be a good reaction? Now they were the one hesitating. And he noticed. "You okay?"

"I'm okay, it's just..." They shook their head. "Nothing."

Once the two were without clothes they shivered a little. "I already took a shower today, taking a bath is not necessary for me..." Y/N said to themselves as they stepped into the tub. "Your turn. Come here"

This time Mr. Crawling stepped into the tub without protest, a happy smile on his face. After feeling the temperature, he giggled, he looked happy. "Fun fun." He said, splashing a little of water.

"See? Told you it was fun... But you usually take a shower first, then get in the tub to relax, you know? The problem is that my shower is too small for someone so tall like you... I mean, this tub is also pretty small but I guess it works, not that bad hopefully. I hope you'll enjoy it." Indeed, it wasn't that big of a bathtub so they were pretty close, his cold back pressing against their chest.

He was happily listening to their yapping, not understanding a lot of course, but Mr. Crawling just liked the way they voice sounds when they're speaking to him, it was a sound that made him feel nice and warm inside.

"I'm gonna wash your hair, okay?" Y/N grabbed the bottle of shampoo, Mr. Crawling didn't understand what they meant with that but he was happy to let them take care of him. It made him feel special.

They started to gently massage his scalp, Mr. Crawling tried to eat the foam and bubbles that the shampoo produced but after they told him it wasn't food he felt somewhat disappointed, it smelled so good, how is it not something he cannot eat? "No food?"

"No, it's not food. It doesn't taste as good as it smells."

Mr. Crawling didn't get what Y/N said but he understood that he can't eat that and he was a well behaved boy so he didn't try to eat it again.

They spent a lot of time just washing his hair, making sure the tips and roots were clean, his hair got dirty when he crawled around and they wanted to take care of it for him. "Your hair is so pretty." They whisper softly.

He giggles. "Me pretty?"

"Your hair. Your hair pretty. But you're right Mr. Crawling, you pretty too."

He smiled and giggled, wanting to hug and headpat them but not being able cause of their position, Instead, he just rubbed his head happily against her neck. They took care of cleaning his body as much as possible while teaching him the basics of how to do it himself as well. He was very cheerful, as usual, always giggling and smiling, enjoying the experience, the attention he received and the gentle touches, the nice words and all the spoiling and pampering they gave him. They made him happy.

They started talking after starting to scrub his legs. "Next time I'll try to kill someone with money... Maybe we could put soft carpet on the floors or something... Your knees get bruised cause of your crawling and... I'm sure you don't feel it that much and you heal pretty fast... but I don't like seeing you like that." They gently kisses his temple, Mr. Crawling smiled and giggled happily.

Mr. Crawling He was having the best day of his life, the warmth of the water, Y/N's body heat, the pleasant aromas of the soaps and shampoo, listening to them humming while they took care of him... It was perfect.

But eventually the water turned cold and soon they got out of the tub, they wrapped a towel around their body to help Mr. Crawling dry himself with another towel. He liked that, it was soft and it smelled good. Everything in that room smelled good, it was different from what he was used to in his world.

"So? Did you liked it?" Y/N asked.

"Yes. Me like this." He nodded his head, smiled happily. "Me like you."

"Thank you. I like you too"

It was time for a new lesson; getting dressed. Mr. Crawling wasn't used to clothes and how humans dress, so they got him a new robe and some underwear. He protested a little at first, something so restrictive felt weird at first but once he got used to it he even liked it. His new robe looked a lot like the old one he had, that made him happy cause he really liked that robe.

"Me pretty, me pretty." He repeated over and over again when he saw himself in the mirror.

"Yes, you're pretty. Very very pretty."

He loved their praises, now that they were dressed and out of the tub he could hug them and give them the headpats he wanted. That made them happy too. He was so clingy. It was new to have someone so in awe of even the smallest detail about them, Mr. Crawling was a faithful devotee and Y/N a deity that he would worship for life.

"Let's dry your hair okay? We're done here."

They went back to the room, having Mr. Crawling sitting down on the edge of the bed, they were behind him, dryer in hand ready to take care of that beautiful and silky hair that Mr. Crawling had.

"This is a little loud but it's okay. It won't hurt." They wanted to make sure Mr. Crawling wouldn't freak out cause of the noise the air dryer made. He nodded and Y/N started doing their thing. The hot air felt nice, it took a good amount of time to dry all of his hair but they did it happily, Mr. Crawling felt excited and that was enough of a reason to do it.

"I'm done, what do you think?"

Mr. Crawling grabbed the air dryer and held it in front of his face, the air was moving his hair back, making him giggle. "Fun fun! Me like fun!"

"I know you like fun." They looked at him tenderly, Mr. Crawling was easy to impress, even the smallest detail could make him very excited, it was refreshing to have him by their side. "You know, I wanna braid your hair... Want me to show you something? You'll look pretty, I promise."

He tilted his head to the side but nodded gently, giving them the hair dryer back. They braided his hair gently, once it was done they made him look at the mirror.

They smiled, he was so excited. "You look pretty."

"Me pretty!" He looks at them with a big smile. "Me pretty... Thank you..."

They looked at the clock, it was almost midnight. "I should sleep now, it's getting late."

Mr. Crawling nodded, understanding their need of rest. They lay down together in bed after turning off the lights. He was hugging Y/N as if they were a delicate piece of art made of glass, something he had to protect. "You pretty... Thank you." He said against their neck.

"This could be a part of our routine... I like it, I wanna do it again."

"Again?" He asks happily.

"Yes. Not now! But tomorrow... Again"

He giggles. "Again! Again! Tomorrow again!"

They kiss his forehead. "It's time to sleep for now, okay? Goodnight Mr. Crawling."

"Night night... Pretty."

[midnightorchids]

fuck it here’s some dating firefighter!jason headcanons… there’s one suggestive pick up line at the very end ;(

- He often leaves your shared home in a chaotic state— hair disheveled, shoe laces untied and a piece of toast hanging from his mouth

- However despite his hastiness, Jason never seems to forget to kiss you goodbye. His lips would connect with the plump skin of your cheeks first and then travel to your lips. He’d mutter small a “I’ll see you tonight,” and send you a quick wink before running out the door

- He laughs at your jokes and always continues the bit. If you make a fire joke/pun, you know he’s about to make a million more

- “I don't need a fire alarm to tell me that you're on fire.” “Jay come up with something better please”

- Jason works late at the station, so on days where you have some free time, you bring him a shawarma from his favourite restaurant. He’s always surprised, but so unbelievably happy at the same time. If he’s not too busy, you’ll stay and steal a couple bites of his wrap while he tells you about his day

- He brags about you to his coworkers. Like a lot. They all know you by name and they often tease Jason for not shutting the fuck up, they’re tired of hearing about you (actually they’re just jealous)

- Jason is really protective over you, especially in public spaces. He always has his hand on the small of your back or has your hands interlocked. He guides you through crowds and makes sure to keep close. On the off chance that you’re not near him, his eyes will still be on you. It’s never weird or overbearing though, he’s protective, but he’s not over the top

- he regularly watches crime and law enforcement shows with you and has a habit of pointing out inaccuracies (especially when the fire department’s involved). It’s annoying because he talks a lot, but also, it’s so cute when he gets worked up over the small details

- “The fire escape isn't the only thing I want to go down on.” “JASON WHAT THE FUCK WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT…!! ;)”

[xjcjuis]

LAZY DAYS

pairing: billie eilish x reader

synopsis: just me craving soft billie fics "with biting as a love language"

warnings: no pronouns used but female implied ; 'sweet girl'

wordcount: 0.8k

a/n: there isn't enough billie fluff (i need a hug from billie)

"don't go yet, please," you whine, eyes tightly clamped shut as you reach over to grab onto billie. unfortunately, your arm falls short and drops back down onto the covers empty.

forcing your eyelids open and momentarily getting blinded by the light of reality, you discover that she was, in fact, not lying beside you but rather sitting at the foot of your bed. she seems to be on a call, with her phone in hand and over her ear. billie's voice was soft, apparently not sensing that you were up and still careful not to wake you.

"babe?" you call out, sort of whispering. your girlfriend turns to you, smiling slightly and then gesturing to the device in her hand. you nod in understanding, waiting for her to hang up.

however, the way-too-familiar bedroom was running out of interesting stuff to look at, so naturally your gaze returns to billie. it's only been a few minutes, but to you it feels like hours, and her phone call still hasn't finished.

with a huff, you gently shove off the covers slipping down your shoulders as you scoot over to your girlfriend. your arms move on their own, hooking underneath her arms and around her waist as you rest your cheek on her back, smiling.

billie's hand instantly rests upon your own around her. you breathe in, inhaling her scent and feeling her warmth flood into you. the soft material of her t-shirt, the strands of her hair lightly tickling your cheek, the comfort her body brings from the hug.

you remain in that position for a moment before you turn your head to rest your chin upon her shoulder instead, staring at the side of her face as she continues to speak softly.

beautiful, was all you could think as your eyes traced her jaw, her skin, her nose, her lashes. perfect, was all your mind screams as you watch her lips move in conversation, pink and soft and so damn kissable if it weren't for the fact that she had an important call.

you puff out air once more, moving back to stare at her shoulder before biting it gently, with her still in your embrace. she jerks a little but relaxes immediately, your actions already familiar.

the corner of your mouth quirks up, now chomping on her shoulder with your lips over your teeth. proud of your little handiwork (aka the small bite marks on her shirt), you end it with a kiss to the cloth of her shirt before settling with nuzzling your face into her neck.

finally her call ends.

"good morning, my love," billie grins, turning around and basically tackling you back onto the bed. she holds you in her arms below her, her expression as soft as the morning sun peeking through the windows. you let out a small shriek of surprise at her actions, placing a hand delicately on her cheek and reaching up to kiss her right on the corner of her lip.

the smile turns into a pout. "you missed, sweet girl."

"hmm, what?" you tease, admiring the way she seemed to glow.

billie rolls her eyes playfully, leaning in to peck your lips. "tease." she taps your nose lovingly, shifting so that the sun shone straight through and onto your face. your eyes shut in instinct, a soft giggle escaping from you when she brushes her lips over your eyelids, just enough to be considered featherlight kisses.

she sits up abruptly, pulling you up with her so that you sat between her legs and quite stuck in her hold. not that you were complaining.

she peppers kisses along your head as you, once again, take her forearm into your mouth and bite. "i just got off call. i have a day-off today."

you stop your attack before she even finishes her sentence, turning to look up at her with starry eyes. "really?"

"mhm." she hums in confirmation and kisses your nose.

you hastily extract yourself from her and kneel on the mattress before her. "can we go out for breakfast?" your eyes are wide with hope, already placing an order in your mind for pancakes and syrup and hot chocolate and perhaps dessert. billie laughs softly at your excitement.

"of course, my love. on me."

with a squeal, you basically fly off the bed to search for something to wear. billie's laugh intensifies, watching you rummage through the closet before speaking up. "hey, aren't you forgetting something?"

you pause mid-swipe, waddling back over to her still sitting on her bed, and kissing her quickly on the lips. as you move away to resume your search, she stops you by the wrist. "uh-uh. not enough."

this time billie kisses you fully, and... you end up being a little late for breakfast.

[ellecdc]

OMG CONGRATULATIONS ON 5K MOTHER!!! LY<3 Could I please request 🐻— 'one talking to the other when they think they’re asleep' with our pretty boy Remus where it's the reader talking about Rem🥹

thank you so much, lovie!! <3

Remus Lupin x gn!reader who thinks he's asleep [663 words]

CW: written with a fem!reader in mind but no gender markers used, fluff

Remus can tell that the movie has ended by the deep, definitive breath you take as the credits roll and the music plays. 

You don’t move, though, and for that Remus is grateful. It had been quite the week at work; deadlines and meetings and projects, bosses trying to cram in as much progress as they could before the Christmas break, and Remus is exhausted. 

He’d barely uttered his “hello” upon getting home before you were suggesting ordering take away and watching a movie. A quiet night in, you had called it. It sounded like heaven.

Clad in comfies and lo mein on a plate, the two of you snuggled up on the couch. Plates ended up on the coffee table, legs were tucked underneath bodies, Remus’ head rested against your shoulder.

And though the world fell quiet, Remus never did fall asleep.

He’d completely melted into the couch at some point during the movie, now curled up on his side with his head on your lap as you card your fingers through his hair. Eyes closed in contentment, breathing evened in his ease.

He loves you. 

“I love you.” You murmur softly as if you read his mind, and Remus feels his lips curve into a smile, though his body was simply too heavy to offer you a proper response. “You work too hard, m’love.�� 

He would have argued with you, or dismissed you immediately if you’d said anything of the sort when he first got home, but now he was trapped and complacent in your embrace.

“Always taking care of everyone else, aren’t you?” Your fingers brush through his hair again before trailing to his shoulder and down his arm as you speak. “You take such good care of me. I wish you’d let me take care of you, sometimes.” 

He really couldn’t help it then, he turned his head so he was looking up at you, offering you a warm smile as you tsked at him.

“Not even sleeping when you should be, Rem.”

“You take great care of me, dove.” He argues quickly, rolling onto his back so he could continue staring up at you more easily. “What do you call tonight?”

“I call tonight I was too lazy to cook and then got to watch my favourite Christmas movie.” You offer wryly, and Remus shakes his head reproachfully. 

“That’s not true at all. You knew I’d had a day, and made sure I didn’t have to think about anything but sitting my arse down on this sofa.”

Your lips purse as you trace a line down the side of his face with your finger. “That was one day.”

Remus hums in the negative. “No. It’s also the way you just happen to text me everyday around noon, when I happen to be scheduled for a break but usually happen to get too caught up in what I’m doing to realise. It’s also the way you claim that you have to work early in the morning when you notice me growing weary at the pub with my friends so that they don’t tease me for my old man tendencies. It’s the way you let me drone on and on about numbers and stats and editing that I know doesn’t interest you at all, just because you know it interests me. How could you say you don’t take care of me?” 

He watches you study his face for a few moments, expression unchanging even when you finally blurt “I liked talking to you better when you were sleeping and couldn’t argue with me.” 

Remus’ laugh echoed throughout your flat before he stretched out his limbs with a pleased hum. 

“Would you like it better if I went back to sleep?” 

“Yes, thank you.”

“See? There I go again,” he starts as he rolls back onto his side and you queue up another movie, “taking care of everyone else.” 

Remus’ eyes fall shut at the sound of your tinkling laughter.

[pkg4mumtown]

Saturday Night Spooks

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Spencer and the team invite you to a Haunted Manor.

Content Warnings: alcohol, GN!reader (no Y/N), strong language, first person POV, canon-typical injuries and violence

A/N: 1 of 2 entries for @imagining-in-the-margins Criminal Minds Autumn Air Challenge. No art this time (crying), I’m so swamped with grad school, that I don’t have the time and my first attempt was awful lol.

Also available on AO3

I packed my backpack as the academy course I was forced into teaching ended. I zipped up the last pocket and looked up as I heard footsteps approaching the desk. I internally groaned but looked up with a smile anyway thinking it was an NAT coming with a question.

“How can I—oh, Spencer—thank God,” I laughed and shook my head. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just wondering how the trainees are treating you,” he smirked mischievously.

“Of course,” I rolled my eyes. “You should be asking how I’m treating them.”

Spencer pursed his lips, laughing under his breath, “I actually came to ask you something.”

“Something that couldn’t be sent via text?”

“Ah, well I picked up lunch downstairs and—”

“—And you wanted to see my reaction face to face?”

“And…yea,” Spencer grimaced sheepishly. “You’ve also been ignoring our texts.”

“Alright, out with it,” I urged as I shrugged my bag on.

“W—uh—some of us were going to a haunted house—er—manor in Roanoke on Saturday night and I was wondering if you’d join us. You know, take your mind off—”

I sighed heavily, scratching my eyebrow and trying not to look annoyed. I knew, and Spencer knew, that I couldn’t lie to him face to face because he’d call me out immediately.

“—Yea, yea, I get it,” I rubbed my jaw with my hand tiredly. “Yea, okay. Who's going?”

“Me—um—Penelope, JJ, maybe Emily, and Derek hasn’t confirmed yet. Rossi said, ‘hell no’.”

No Hotch?

“Ok, just text me the time.”

“Will do,” Spencer gave me a satisfied grin before just about skipping from the seminar hall. A stark difference from the hesitant steps he took coming in here.

I left the hall and locked up, silently hoping that his lack of mentioning Hotch meant the senior agent was too busy rather than Spencer lying to me. Though, with how suspicious Spencer was acting, I couldn’t be certain either way.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, prompting me to quickly check it as I made my way to the elevators.

Penelope: Bought your ticket. See you Saturday ❤️

Reader: See you ❤️

They sure worked fast.

Yawning, I entered the elevator and hoped traffic was light. Not that I’d be so lucky. Checking my watch and sighing, I tried not to think about the incident resulting in the awkward relationship I currently had with the BAU.

I'd had some frequent run-ins with the BAU over the years, enough to be friendly. The frequent specialty consultations when I was teaching at the Academy surely helped. The fact that I befriended Spencer and Derek quickly helped even more.

The last couple of weeks I had frozen them out intentionally and knew they could feel it if they sent Spencer in to crack the ice. They knew what caused it—it wasn’t exactly a secret—but I’d hoped they’d wait a little longer before confronting me.

I had been consulting on a case with them when we suddenly cracked it wide open. We all descended upon a run-down building where the unsub was holding his three victims. We were not at all prepared to cut them out of their bonds, let alone while the building was on fire. As soon as we entered the building, smoke began gathering heavy in the hallways, leading us to where the victims were trapped among the flames.

The flames had eaten through the room quickly, making its way up into the rafters and making the ceiling unstable. I was no firefighter, but the situation obviously screamed danger.

Most of the team split off to catch the unsub as soon as he was spotted, leaving Hotch, Spencer, and myself to free the victims.

We were wildly outmatched.

Several broken pieces of wood and bent metal later and only two of the victims had been freed. One could walk on his own and the other used Spencer as a crutch out of the building and to safety.

More pieces of debris fell from the ceiling—larger more structural pieces—that set off alarm bells in my head.

“You need to go! I’ll get her!”

“We both need to go!” Hotch commanded back through a cough, gripping my upper arm.

I barely gave his stressed expression a glance before I was back to work on the victim.

I wasn’t leaving without her.

The frame she was strapped down to was unbearably hot and I couldn’t hold it for more than a second without it burning my hands. Giving up on freeing her, I used strips of material, mostly broken cardboard, to loop around the frame and drag the bed frame and her out.

The air was hot and heavy with smoke and despite trying to shield my mouth with my sleeve, I was getting lightheaded fast. Hotch couldn’t stop coughing and frankly neither could I, but I wasn’t going to leave her.

A sharp snap and creak from above me made me involuntarily look up. Before I could shove Hotch backwards toward the exit, I felt his hand grip the back of my vest and yank me into the doorway with him.

Bastard.

I watched helplessly as a beam came crashing down where we once stood, sending embers everywhere. The victim didn’t even scream in terror, likely passed out from smoke inhalation, blood loss, and exhaustion.

Snarling despite my coughing, I shoved Hotch off me and used what little adrenaline I had left to lift the scorched wood off the frame and send it crashing to the floor. My cardboard strips were long gone, so I tore my tattered dress shirt sleeve off and tied it to the frame, hoping it would hold on long enough to the hot metal to get us to the exit.

By whatever higher power existed it held and got us to the staging area where the fire department had just pulled up and EMTs were already working on the other victims. Derek was leading the unsub to a police cruiser while the rest of the team checked out Spencer for any damage.

Upon seeing us emerge from the flaming building, the team rushed to Hotch, who brushed them off for the time being. Firefighters came to free the victim from the frame while paramedics took over assessing her condition.

God, I hoped she’d make it.

I moved to step around Hotch who purposely stood in my way. I was forced to stay in place by a firm, aggressive fist gripping the front of my vest.

“What the hell was that?” Hotch growled. He wasn’t one to scream and humiliate his team in a public display, but I knew he was pissed by his low tone.

I clenched my jaw, knowing nothing good would come out of my mouth if I opened it.

“I gave you an order to evacuate.”

“Respectfully, I told you to go first, Agent Hotchner, considering you’re a father and all.”

Well, there went that.

I could feel the team staring at our pissing match, their eyes bouncing between us.

“You are not special here. I am the senior agent on this case! This is my team! Everyone here is my responsibility!” his voice raised uncharacteristically, cueing me in to just how pissed he was.

“I—”

“I expect my orders to be followed. Am I clear?”

“I think—uh—”

“Am. I. Clear?”

“I think you’re going to need a new consultant from here on out, SSA Hotchner,” I held my chin up, refusing to deflate under his pressure. I wasn’t even mad about the public berating, having much thicker skin than to let that get to me. It was the realization that he was absolutely right, and I refused to admit it. The realization that I almost got him and myself killed aside from whether this last victim would survive the trip to the hospital or not.

I stripped my vest off hastily and stormed past him until paramedics stopped me. After getting my burned palms loosely wrapped, I settled into one of the SUVs to wait for everyone else to head back to Quantico.

After an awkward drive back and silence from internal affairs for a couple of days, I was finally assigned to another round of Academy seminars as punishment for the rest of the year. Because being at the same location as the agent I just had an argument with was such a great move. Despite that, I didn’t mind being attached to the Academy rather than the D.C. Field Office, as it was actually a nice break from cases.

I was conflicted about the entire altercation and not just because of the alleged insubordination. OK, confirmed insubordination.

I had, rather unfortunately, been friends with Hotch until that point. We could overlook my raging crush on the man. Which, in hindsight, may have made the screw up hit harder but I’d never admit it out loud.

-

Spencer offered to pick me up and drive to the haunted house with Penelope and JJ, but I declined. I preferred the option to leave at my own discretion if the incident was brought up.

I pulled up to a shady looking street that would have had me clutching my sidearm on duty. The only indication that I was in the right area were the cars lining the street.

Street parking it is.

Spencer: We’re still in JJ's car. Waving you down.

I didn’t take me long to spot them after I parked and jogged over to the car, where the three of them were exiting the vehicle.

“Derek's almost here. Emily is running late, she said to get in line without her just in case,” JJ informed me as I greeted them.

Before I could get a word in, I was immediately gathered in Penelope's arms and hugged tightly.

“Oh my gosh, it’s been forever! I missed you!”

“It’s only been a month,” I scoffed, laughing as I hugged her back.

“Shut up,” she gave me one final squeeze. “You’re not even dressed up!”

I glanced down at my clothes, which were overwhelmingly black while the three of them were dressed in varying levels of Halloween celebration.

“Black is…in theme…” I stammered. “I didn’t know.”

“Hush,” Penelope took charge, unraveling something on her wrist. I heard a noticeable snap before she was grabbing my wrist and slapping a slap bracelet on my exposed skin. It was nothing gaudy, just a simple pumpkin but I smiled, nonetheless.

She reached back into the car's backseat before reappearing with cups.

“Baby girl…” I heard as Derek approached.

Another over enthusiastic greeting later and Penelope finally finished her goal, handing everyone a cup of mysterious liquid.

“The Penelope Special,” she raised her cup.

“It smells like a misdemeanor,” I chimed in, looking around to make sure we were hidden by the SUV.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Derek bumped my shoulder with his.

With a quick toast, the Penelope Special was consumed and warming our insides already. I was grateful since the brisk air had started permeating my clothes while we stood there.

“Should I be worried that I smell the alcohol more than I can taste it?” I asked, smacking my tongue briefly against the roof of my mouth.

“Probably,” JJ cringed in realization. “Definitely the only one I’m having. It was good, though.”

The cups were rounded up and returned to the plastic bag they came in and placed back in the SUV. With the car locked, Penelope spun around and clapped her hands.

“Onwards!”

We walked in the direction of the building, Penelope leading the way with Derek and Spencer on either arm.

“Have you been okay?” JJ asked with enough sincerity that I would have felt bad for deflecting.

“Yea, can’t complain. Hotch didn’t throw me to the wolves as bad as I thought he would and my hands are just about healed up, now.”

“Mm, second degree burns?”

“Yea, a few blisters but they’re mostly gone now.”

JJ was quiet for a second, “You know he didn’t rip you a new one to be a dick, right?”

“I know.”

“So, then why—”

“—No offense, I know you mean well. I just would rather not get into it when I’m supposed to be ‘taking my mind off it’, according to Spencer.”

JJ gave me a sympathetic smile and nodded, “Sorry.”

I threw an arm around her shoulder and returned the smile, letting her know it was okay.

Once we had our tickets scanned, we entered the courtyard. There was a line looping in the courtyard to get inside, likely to keep the pacing of the experience. Luckily, there were actors, live music, and a fire dancer keeping people entertained. We didn’t have to wait longer than thirty minutes before we were at the front of the line, but Emily still hadn’t arrived.

Just as we were being ushered inside I heard Spencer shout, “Emily! Over here!”

I turned to look in the direction he was yelling, but couldn’t see through the line behind me. Whether she got to us or not I was uncertain as our group was immediately plunged into darkness with only neon-colored arrows to guide our way. I was hyper aware of Spencer's hand on my wrist at the beginning, but that soon ended as our first obstacle came into view.

“We have to do what?” I heard Penelope whisper shout among all of the screaming and terror around us.

“Just crouch, baby girl, you’ll be fine.”

It was a simple tunnel, meant to make us crouch and filter through one at a time. Annoying but effective. Spencer and I went through first, immediately meeting actors with chainsaws and bloody medical attire on the other end. Once everyone was through, we kept going and I continued trying to find Spencer’s wrist in the dark.

I turned my nose up as we passed certain set ups, not wanting to know how they managed to make each room smell like a different pile of sweat and shit.

I was surprisingly okay, jumpy of course but that was natural. Spencer and the others were having fun and laughing at each other, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the building was far too similar to that case a month ago—minus all the fire.

My moderate “okayness” flew out of the window as I was cornered by an actor, since I was further in front of the group than the others. I cursed to myself but kept my hands balled to my sides to not accidentally lash out. My friends giggled, urgently whispering “go, go, go—” as they scurried passed me and the actor.

Traitors.

The actor let up after a few more seconds of uncomfortable space invasion. I jogged past him, hoping to catch up to the group when I felt a warm hand on my wrist. It was too loud to hear as chainsaws revved to life around the corner but figuring that Derek was probably glued to Penelope’s side, I assumed Spencer had doubled back for me. My brain was too overstimulated to take in much else, too busy warring with a fight or flight response to focus on anything but exiting. I readjusted the grip on my wrist, twisting out of it and clasping Spencer’s hand instead.

There were only about ten minutes of the experience left before I felt cool air flowing in larger quantities. I sped up my steps upon realizing that the exit was close. As we exited, we were fully greeted with the cool autumn air and my body slacked knowing I finally could rest.

A laugh bubbled up from my throat and I squeezed Spencer’s hand as I turned to face him, “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, you ass—.”

I stopped my backward steps as I realized the hand in mine was too hairy and the fingers too thick to be Spencer. My eyes quickly drifted over a burnt orange sweater, up a tall frame, to meet eyes with—

Hotch.

My jaw tensed immediately, realizing that I was right the other day. Spencer did lie to me.

As my ears adjusted from the chaos indoors to the calm and quieter outside, I heard laughter not too far from us. I turned my head to see the team looking our way. As soon as I locked eyes with them, they immediately turned away. Realizing I was still holding Hotch’s hand, I ripped it away and shoved it into my pocket as the chilly air got to it.

“A team effort coercion scheme? Why am I not surprised,” I scoffed.

“Wait—,” Hotch took a step forward. “Look, I was in the dark as much as you were, okay? I only realized you were here when we were in there.”

I furrowed my brows in confusion at him, making him smirk a little, “Your hand feels different than Emily’s. I’m surprised you couldn’t tell the difference between mine and Spenc—”

“I was busy trying not to hit anyone.”

“Right,” Hotch forms a harsh line with his mouth.

I can hear the team trying to hide their laughter again, making my face heat up. I knew it wasn’t malicious or with the intent to embarrass me, but I couldn’t help it.

“You guys meddle way too much,” I called out in their direction as I rolled my eyes. “Good night,” I nodded to Hotch and turned around to walk in the direction of my car. I spared a glance at the team, who had since stopped laughing and now wore the equivalent expression of a chastised puppy on their faces.

I immediately heard Hotch call my name and sped my steps up, though not enough to cause a scene. I could hear his efforts to catch up without looking like a total creep and admired his tenacity for a second until I realized we were almost at my car and he’d surely corner me then.

“Can we talk before you leave? Pleas—.”

Taking a deep breath, I turned as I reached the passenger side of my car, staying on the sidewalk with my back facing my car. I crossed my arms over my chest defensively as he skidded to a halt, trying not to crash into me.

I looked at him expectantly as he gathered his wits. Hotch closed his eyes briefly to center himself before making eye contact with such an intense gaze that I wanted so badly to look away.

“I’m sorry for lighting you up like that,” he apologized. When I didn’t react, he formed a pinched look on his face. The tension in his forehead loosened after a moment, “But, that’s not why you’re mad.”

“No.”

“Look,” he sighed. “You have to know that if I left you there, you would have been in the hospital, too, or worse. Dead.”

“Yea, I know,” I pursed my lips to the side and sniffed reflexively.

“Well, then—”

“I’m just mad, okay? I can be mad for not being fast enough in getting everyone out,” I threw my hands up.

Hotch’s shoulders sagged, “You can’t blame yourself. She’s still alive because of you.”

I stayed silent, my jaw trembling and threatening to unleash the emotions I’ve kept bottled up. I clenched my fists, trying to stop the trembling by nipping at the inside of my cheek.

“She’s okay,” Hotch stressed again, hesitantly placing his hands on my shoulders.

I shrugged his hands off explosively, “Yea, well you almost weren’t!” My chest expanded heavily from the outburst as I stepped into him angrily, “I knew that ceiling was collapsing! I could hear it and you wouldn’t fucking listen to me. I wasted time and it nearly crushed you, too!”

Hotch’s mouth was slightly open, but nothing came out. My furious eyes searched his surprised ones and before he could catch up with my words, I turned.

“I need to go, have fun with your team,” I dismissed him, rounding the front of the car toward the driver’s side.

“Stop,” he finally spoke up. “Just stop for a second,” he gently pushed me against the door of the car.

“I swear to God, Aaron, if you don’t get off me—.”

He disconnected his body from mine but brought his hands up to my face. His voice was just above a whisper, his throat too unsure and wobbly for anything louder than that, “I’m okay.”

“I—”

My voice cut off as a couple tears finally made their way down my cheeks. Before I could think to wipe them away, Hotch caught them with his thumbs. I grabbed his forearms from the outside, unsure if I wanted to push them off or bring him closer anymore.

“I was so—”

“I know,” he stressed, and I finally realized how glassy his eyes were with tears, too.

I squeezed his forearms, finally making up my mind and surging toward his mouth while pulling him toward me by his forearms. There weren’t any “fireworks” like books describe, just an overall sense of peace as my wet cheeks met his. Hotch’s hands stayed on my face, guiding me along slowly rather than hesitantly. There was a lack of urgency, taking the time to feel every brush between us. With a shaky exhale, he finally separated for a half of a second.

When it looked like he was going to speak, his phone rang from his pocket. He sighed heavily as he read the name and answered it, not stepping away. My hands found each other, since his arms were busy, wringing my fingers together absentmindedly.

“Yea. Yea, okay. Okay, I will.”

He ended the call and thrust it back into his pocket. His hands found my waist as soon as they were free, his eyes looking for any reaction to say I wanted him to stop.

“They’re—um—we’re going to dinner. Will you come with us? If you want…”

I swallowed my nerves, taking a second to wipe my face, “Yea.”

I settled my arms over his shoulders as he leaned back in, taking my bottom lip between his own. I felt him pull back after a moment and pressed into him to continue the kiss.

I felt him smile and let out a laugh at my insistence, “Are you done ignoring me?”

I sucked in my lips, sheepishly nodding as I remembered several calls of his that I ditched after the incident.

“I—uh…” I laughed at myself, running my thumbs along the base of his neck. “Can I use this to bribe you into a guest lecture on how profiling can use behavioral patterns to narrow down geographical locations?”

“I’ll think about it,” he scoffed playfully. “Get in the car.”

-

Thanks for reading! Once again shamelessly plugging my Hotch playlist below.

[nausicaaandhermouth]

A Kiss For Loyalty

masterlist

young!silco x gn!reader [1.2k][AO3]

summary: You find him after the attack on the bridge, and you're left to figure out how to tread the fragile state of him.

tags: young silco, a few hours after vander tries to drown him, angst, established relationship, hurt silco, not betad

a/n: mid-lecture we were looking at photos of gash wounds and i couldn't help but think of young silco's face fresh after the drowning, so ofc i had to write a comfort fic for him. kinda comfort. it's mostly angst.

Vander couldn’t look you in the eye, couldn’t form a single word. And at first, worry was what overtook you—Silco hadn’t survived, lost in the fight. But the more you looked at the larger man who had returned, the more you recognised something else: the aftereffect when he’d had too much to drink, had raised his voice, had felt guilty. Regret.

You find Silco in your bedroom, curled up on the worn mattress that had held you both some countless nights. It had overheard the visions for your new nation, the sloppy passion of drunken evenings, the quiet rise and fall of breaths during winter. Now it’s witnessing something new.

You’ve never heard Silco cry. Your bedroom shrinks at the sound of it, as if the corners darken and round themselves to hold and hush him. It’s a sharp sting, an undeniably pained cry bleeding into his palm, cupped around his mouth.

When you approach, you’re silent—assessing, investigating, worrying if this isn’t something you can fix. He’s never been so evidently broken. You’re not sure whether it’s about Vander or at the failure of their uprising, both of which had taken a large portion of his heart.

“Silco?” you whisper, taking another step forward.

“Don’t,” he manages, his sobs becoming quieter, but affecting his breath, bubbling out of him in squeaks and chokes. “Please,”

You shake your head, keeping your ground but keeping your eyes on him. He’s refusing to remove his reddened hands from his face, his hair curtaining over his left side, black, wet strings.

“You’re hurt,” you furrow, focusing on the blood down his hand. You rush forward, chest attempting to wrangle in a frenzied heart. “Show me, hey, S—”

“Stop!” he inches away from you, a childlike recoil that makes you freeze.

It’s a foreign behaviour, a desperation he’s never worn, never come close to mimicking. As far as you’ve known him he’s been the opposite. Even in pain, he stitched together a composure so convincing it made others doubt he could ever truly feel the hurt he was raised around.

You suppose that it’s something he’s worked on, refined throughout the years after taking on the responsibility of becoming Zaun’s face, alongside Vander. His ideologies had spilled straight from his heart into your ear. You understood why he worked so hard to maintain a strong face.

That man was gone; he hadn't entered the room this time.

He’s hiding, you see, shielding his face from you. This, you understand, is something he thinks may spare you from even a fraction of the pain he must be feeling. He’s always been so. To hoard the suffering and smile.

“You don’t want me to see you?” you ask, kneeling by the bed and retracting your hands.

Silco doesn’t answer, the chokes of suppressed sobs the only sound from him.

“It’s alright,” with a shake of your head, you turn around, facing the other way and leaning against the bed. “I don’t have to see you. Just… just talk to me,”

You wait a beat, then another, waiting for his voice, willing his voice to regard you again. Anything with a meaning that you could warp into a sign of hope.

“Please,” you add. It’s unintentionally desperate, pleading, giving him the power of controlling where the conversation goes. Something he needs, you suppose, something he’s certain is still predictable.

You hear a sharp breath behind you, then the shuffle of your bedsheets. Your eyes slide the farthest they can without turning your head, attempting to see any glimpse of him.

Then his hand enters your periphery, pale skin against scarlet, fingers twitching and shaking as his forearm rests on your shoulder.

You take gentle hold of his hand, turning it this way and that in search for wounds. But nothing. “Who…” your breath escapes, “Is this your blood?”

“Yes,” he responds, a word that pricks at your lungs sharply.

You see the moment clearer now. A wound so deep that to reveal it is its own pain.

You recall Vander’s face. The shame that distorted his features, how ugly it becomes as you try to piece together the fragmented pieces. 

“Vander did something,” you surmise. Your breath quickens, a sneer creating brackets around your flared nostrils. “Did Vander do something?”

You feel Silco’s breath near the top of your head, but before you’re able to turn, a weight settles over you. Momentarily, you hold, letting the firmness of his muscles process on your body, around your shoulders, his other arm snaking over your bones and holding you backwards to him.

You hear his soft sniffs over your head and slightly to one side, the bone of his cheek pressing against your crown.

There it is again. It’s a spear through your body, the sound of him. It strikes a fissure along your lungs, each sudden inhale a crack veining in your airways, each tremoring breath he takes an earthquake on your skull. Vander, what have you done?

You take his hand and hold it to your cheek, the cool back of his hand against the warm apple of your face. You interlace your fingers, a familiar practice, just as fluid as the locking of legs in the night, or the pressing of palms for a prayer.

Next was the chaste kiss on his index knuckle, for loyalty. Then on the middle knuckle, for liberty. Another on the ring knuckle, for luck. And lastly, a kiss on the pinky knuckle, for love.

It was a silent conversation he and you had made, meeting mouth to bone always easier than devoting a voice to each word.

His other hand wrapped around your wrist, bringing your arm upwards and over your head, your own knuckles meeting his familiar lips. But they tremble.

He breathes a kiss, gentle, on your index knuckle, starting, then failing. His breath falls jagged on your skin.

For a moment he restarts, the warmth of his air hovering over your knuckle. But again he fails.

Your frown deepens. Even more so when he moves your hand and skips to your pinky knuckle, the only promise fulfilled.

“How bad is it?” your voice slightly muffles against his hand near your mouth.

He swallows, clearing his throat. “At the… we were at the river, he—” he grips your hand slightly tighter.

“It’s still hurting?”

His clothes shuffle. “Yeah,”

“Let me look?”

Silence.

You start to think he’ll reject you again, not yet prepared to face you in whatever shape Vander had left him. But he loosens his arm around your shoulders and moves away, his presence at your back fading.

Your other hand remains in his, the anchor, as you shift on the floor and turn.

You look up and your eyes meet. No. One eye meets yours.

You sense his panic by how the one remaining blue jumps between your eyes, tips of his mouth downwards. He brushes aside his wet hair.

The left side of his face had been marred, a trench of exposed muscle, skin, and blood bared at you. The blackened sclera is haunting, a flame moving in tandem with the watery blue of his other eye.

You’re more than certain there’s nothing but indignation gushing through your veins. Yet, Silco remains beautiful. You realised a long time ago it was difficult for him to not be, no matter the state of him. And still now, left eye diseased with the molten of betrayal, mouth frowned by grief, fear in his good eye.

“It’s not over,” he whispers, leaning forward as you reach up and cup the unmarred side of him. “We’ll take back Zaun,”

There he is. No man, no river, could ever kill him. “You’ll show them,” you press a kiss to his index knuckle.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

omgie congrats on 300 followers!!!! could i perhaps get prompt #14 with miguel o'hara-? something fluffy please (ﾐ´ω`ﾐ)

- 🎀 anon

14. "You look cute wearing my clothes."

CW: fluff, clothes sharing, very mild miscommunication (?), kissing, gn!Reader

“Hey, Miguel.” You stroll into his laboratory, making yourself comfortable in a chair. You’re only here for a moment, on your way back home after a difficult mission.

He’d let you crash in his suite for a night, given how utterly exhausted you’d been. And given you a change of clothes after your spider-suit had been destroyed.

He was so nice. So perfect. It wasn’t any surprise you had a massive crush on him. There was no way it’d be reciprocated though. You were sure of it.

Miguel glances up. For a heart-stopping moment, his gaze wanders over your body. Then he smirks. “You look cute wearing my clothes.”

Your brain does an emergency reboot, leaving you staring at Miguel in bafflement. “What?”

He chuckles, low and smooth, leaving his workstation to move towards you. Even in his lab coat, he looks huge.

He reaches out with a clawed hand, gently titling up your head. Brushing his fingers along your cheek and smoothing his thumb over your bottom lip!

“I said,” he murmurs, “You look cute wearing my clothes.”

You just stare up at him, heart racing in your chest. He was— He just��� Your poor crush has no chance against him.

You duck your head a little, suddenly bashful under his gaze. “Maybe… you should let me wear them more often, then…?”

You’re flirting with Miguel O’Hara! Well, technically, you’re flirting back, but you’re flirting with Miguel O’Hara. Only the handsomest, strongest, most deadly spider in the whole Spider Society.

He chuckles again and leans a little closer. “I’ll let you wear them as often as you like.” His thumb rubs along your lower lip again. “But I want something in return.”

Your heart sinks for a moment. Of course he wants something in return. You nod slowly, still gazing up at him. At his mesmerizing brown eyes. And gorgeous lips. “What… do you want?”

He quirks a brow in amusement, gently tugging on your lower lip. It takes you a moment to get it and your eyes widen when you do. “Oh! Oh! Yes! I accept! Or agree! Or whatever—“

He cuts you off with a soft press of his lips to yours. You melt into the kiss, lost in the plush feeling. It’s sending tingles down your spine, your heart pounding in your ears.

He pulls back and you chase after him. Catching him in another kiss. You can’t help it. Who would, really?

He’s smirking when he finally does pull away. “Took you long enough, little Spider.”

Your cheeks heat, but you ignore the bait. Instead, half breathless, you murmur, “Talk less, kiss more.”

He’s more than happy to oblige.

[marauder-misprint]

Party

Remus Lupin x gn!reader

microfic - 978 words

cw: drinking, fluff

You stand outside the house, tentatively bouncing on the balls of your feet as you debate going in. You can hear the sound of music and conversations through the door. You aren’t sure why you had come; you had only met Sirius a few times. But he had invited you to the party, saying he wanted you to meet one of his friends, which you found odd because you felt like you barely knew Sirius so why did he feel like he needed to introduce you to his friends?

You knock on the door. There’s no answer right away. You wait for about a minute, trying to hear if anyone was coming for the door. They might not have heard your knock since the music was so loud. You try the doorknob and it opens. You feel stupid. Of course it’s open, it’s a bloody party. Why would they lock the door when people were constantly arriving?

The warmth of the house welcomes you as you walk in. You look around for a face you know, but you don’t see Sirius or any of your friends who on the off chance might have met Sirius at one point or another and met the same fate of being invited. You walk down a hallway, looking for the kitchen. You assume that’s where drinks would be and you really want something to hold in your hands so you feel less awkward. Thankfully, Sirius is in the kitchen.

“Mate, you came!” he yells, practically jumping over a chair to meet you.

“Was I not supposed to?” you ask sarcastically.

“No, no! You were. Because now, you can meet Remus!” he says. “Oh, that’s James and Peter. They live here too.” He gestures to the other boys in the kitchen.

You exchange polite waves with them.

“Can I get a drink before you go around introducing me?”

“Uh, yeah! Prongs!”

The taller boy with glasses calls, “Already on it.”

He grabs a bottle from the fridge and passes it to Sirius who hands it to you. You smile a thanks and follow Sirius to a different room. There’s a group playing a loud drinking game in the middle of the room. You are about to groan when he points to the lone boy sitting on the couch. He’s watching the room with an amused expression, seemingly content to observe the drinking game rather than participate in it. 

“Moony! Come ‘ere!” Sirius yells. 

The boy looks away from the game and shifts his gaze to you. A wide smile graces his face as he stands up and makes his way over.

“Padfoot, what’s up?” His voice has a playful tone.

“I have found you a friend!”

“A friend,” the boy repeats, looking you over with curious eyes. 

“Darling,” Sirius says, giving your shoulders a squeeze, “this is Remus.”

“Hi,” you say, clutching your drink close to your chest.

You’re not sure what to say as you take in the boy in front of you. Messy sandy-colored hair, honey brown eyes, scars across his face, more than a few inches taller than Sirius. He gave off a comforting aura though, as if you could tell him anything and he would take your secrets to the grave. 

“Are you the one he’s been talking about all week?” Remus asks you.

“Has he? Am I?” you ask each boy in turn, looking between them. How were you supposed to know if Sirius, ever the rambler, had been talking about you?

Sirius just nods and walks away without another word. He left you alone with Remus, who stands as if a little unsure of himself. The group let out a cheer as someone had to chug their drink.

“Um, do you want to step outside? Kind of loud in here,” Remus offers and you nod, following him into the backyard. “It’s fine when I’m not trying to talk to anybody,” he adds with a chuckle. 

“Did Sirius really talk about me all week?”

“Yeah, and so far, his evaluations are right. You are ‘cute as a bug.’”

You feel a hot blush creeping up your neck. 

“He also said that we’d get along. Claims he could just sense it,” he says, giving you a polite smile. “What can you sense?”

“I, uh… You seem cool.” 

Remus laughs. It’s a warm sound that surrounds you like a hug. 

“I promise you, your senses are misleading you if your first impression is that I’m cool.”

“No, that wasn’t my first impression.”

He raises one eyebrow. “Then what was?”

The blush rises higher. “That you’re a comforting person who’s going to keep everyone’s secrets safe. So, I guess, you appear loyal?”

“Huh.” He crosses his arms across his chest, holding his bottle by the top of its neck. “Really hope Sirius calling you cute wasn’t a secret then.”

You shrug. “You seconded it. More of a confession on your part.”

“Can I confess something else?”

“If you’re an ax murderer and use Sirius to supply your victims, please spare me.”

He gives you a bewildered look.

“Not at all what I was going to say.”

“Oh, then carry on. Confess away, pretty boy.”

The slip of ‘pretty boy’ makes your whole face grow hot, but you see Remus blush as well.

“You think I’m pretty?” he all but whispers. 

You nod, not trusting your voice or your choice of words. He takes a step towards you.

“Then I feel less awkward about admitting that I think I want to kiss you.”

“I-I’m okay with that,” you say quietly, looking into his eyes before your gaze flicks down to his lips and back up. 

“Just okay?” He’s leaning in slowly, giving you time to back away or say no.

“More than okay.”

He closes the distance between you and you feel that Sirius was right. You and Remus do get along. 

[specsthesecond]

Hey, don't be sad. Dragon with two dicks ok?

One dick is for proper insemination. It's huge, almost as big as you are, you definitely can't take it.

But the other one is much smaller. It's meant purely for pleasure, like a clit. It's still quite big for you but you can definitely fit it inside. It swells inside you, hot, heavy and throbbing.

Your dragon partner is trying very hard to stay composed, you're basically riding the most sensitive part of him. He has to keep his composure so he doesn't hurt your small human body. He just lays there moaning, growling and twitching while his little human rides his dick.

You could even turn around and play with his bigger cock, reaching to rub the tip or hugging your body around it while you keep bouncing.

He can't help but hump the air as he cums, jostling you up and down his length and bringing you to your own climax.

You lay on his stomach, exhausted and covered in cum. He purrs lazily and the vibrations lull you to sleep on his warm belly.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[ghouljams]

Sleeping with Ghost means a lot of octopus cuddling. He lays on his back, sleeping like the dead if he gets and sleep at all, and you curl against his side to cuddle. Your arm slung over his chest and your leg thrown over his thick thigh, trying to find a spot for your other arm and ending up with it wrapped around Ghost's bicep. It doesn't feel very romantic, pretty one sided actually, except for the big warm hand that holds onto your thigh and squeezes the soft skin appreciatively, holding on like a lifeline through every nightmare. You always end up sharing his pillow despite having you own, letting him feel your breath against his neck, an assurance every time he wakes up that you will too.

You've never even thought about getting a bigger bed before but then Ghost starts complaining about back pain and cricks in his neck, and you figure its from your clinging. Except when you finally get the new mattress through the front door the look Ghost gives you is one of utter betrayal. You guess that means you're not the only clingy one.

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

[midnightorchids]

Jason shivered as he peered out of the old window of your shared apartment. He stared at the blanket of snow that draped the trees and he tugged his sweater tighter against his chest.

“Why are you sitting by the window Jay, it’s freezing,” you asked, setting down two cups of chai on the coffee table. They sat next to Jason’s long forgotten book and you smiled reading the title—Matilda.

Jason often brought out books from childhood during the colder months and he had a particular liking towards Matilda. You always assumed that it was because he saw a glimpse of himself in the odd story. Maybe he found a sense of comfort in it.

“I don’t know, it’s beautiful out though,” he replied, pulling you out of your thoughts. You stared out the window and nodded. Jason was not wrong. Despite the harsh weather conditions, the scenery was breathtaking. Pearly crystals gently tickled down and covered the lawn like an elegant rug. The street lights were on and the entire atmosphere felt cosy and welcoming.

Jason took a sip of his tea and hummed in delight. The sweetness of the chai had reached deep within his soul and warmed his heart. He leaned back against the couch and reached for your hand. You were quick to intertwine your fingers together. You brought his knuckles close to you and placed a gentle kiss on his hand.

For a while, it was quiet. You both stayed there, sipping your tea while enjoying each other’s company and the view. But then, the silence became dull. You decided to reach over to the table and grab the old book. You pushed it towards Jason and he stared at you in confusion.

“Read to me,” you said and he grinned. Jason took the copy from your hands and flipped to the first page, wanting to read to you from the beginning of the story.

You liked watching him read out loud. He always got this excited look in his eyes and a narrative tone in his voice. He often put on different voices for characters and he especially exaggerated the tones when he read children’s books. It was no surprise when he gave the worst voice to Harold Wormwood and a silly high pitched one to Miss Honey.

The rest of your evening was spent reading and in fits of giggles. There was no other way you’d spend your night. This was truly the best.

[these-lovely-monsters]

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: m!kraken x gn!reader

Content: tentacle sex

Your new kraken boyfriend has tentacles that change color based on how he feels. The more he feels, the brighter and more widespread the color becomes.

He doesn't really understand how humans work so when he sees your cheeks and chest become flushed during sex, he thinks you change color like he does. But when he notices that you're only slightly red, he thinks you're only a little bit aroused.

So he decides to double down on his efforts to please you, adding more tentacles while he fucks you, filling all your holes as much as he can, and fucking you as often as you'll let him. You don't understand why he's suddenly so fervent in his love-making but you can't complain one bit because it's amazing.

He keeps going at it until you've had too much and you ask him to stop. Defeated, he slinks away, his tentacles a deep blue color tinged with pink. When you chase after him to ask what's wrong, he tells you he's sad and embarrassed that he can't seem to please you enough to make you more red. Laughing, you explain that humans don't work like that and that this is the best sex you've ever had.

Delighted, he turns bright yellow and proceeds to fuck you again, even more enthusiastically than before. You're too sore and exhausted but you let him because he's just so cute and eager about it.

Tip Jar :)

[porcalinecunt]

Can i pls request some face sitting headcanons for bllk guys? Specifically Sae, Rin, Shido, Oliver and Bachira solely because i think they're the nastiest 😆🫣 thank God!

𝐒𝐈𝐓.

🪽 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ face sitting with blue lock boys! ~

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐒𝐀𝐄 & 𝐑𝐈𝐍. 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔. 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑. 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀.

cw — gn!reader. afab!reader. so much oral sex. edging. overstimulation. spanking. spitting. squirting. full on tongue fucking. denied orgasms. pervy behavior. shidou being an animal.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : FUCK—this too me way too long to finish, but here it is! apologies nonnie for taking forever ;-;

₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

slow n steady always wins the race. a motto sae keeps firm when it comes to sex, no matter what he’s doing. when it comes to oral though..god. the agonizing drag of his tongue while he holds you by your hips, moving them against his mouth as he kissed your sensative clit before prodding his tongue against your hole. everytime you try to speed up your pace, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips and waist to keep you in your place. he might as well be edging the fuck out of you until you finally feel the knot snap in two and gush all over your boyfriend’s mouth. sae, bedroom eyes and all, would admire your fucked out face and trembling body before flipping you onto your back and continuing where he left off. safe to say, you aren’t getting out of his grip until you squirted every last drop.

“s-sae..quit being a tease..” you stuttered, trying your hardest not to buck your hips. if it wasn’t for sae’s strength, you would’ve gone wild and full on rode his face like a madman. his whole arms wrapped around your thighs, gripping tighter then usual while he switched from your clit to your sensitive pussy. sae’s sharp, jade eyes staring up at yours. his pupils were blown with a burning desire all too clear to you, as if his tongue movements didn’t say enough. god, he was a patient one and it was getting on your last nerves. a thought he promptly smacked you out of with a simple strike to the ass.

“paitience, darling. or i’ll leave you like this, i can’t stand whiny whores who get greedy.”

₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

rin is more needier then his older brother, encouraging your carnal desires and egging you on as you rode his face as fast n hard as you please. the guy was basically making out with your cunt, open mouthed kisses and his tongue prying through your pussy had you gripping on the headboards or his hair. his hands roamed your body as he pleased, tracing his fingers against your stomach up to your sensitive nipples where he pinched and squeezed between his fingertips. don't think he'll stop either! long after you squirt all over his mouth, he'll only pull away just to take one long look at your fucked out face before he dives right back in again. rin gets pussydrunk a bit too easily, but why complain?

“rin..m-more, please..! i need more!” you begged and pleaded with a whine ripped straight from the jugular as you grinding your pussy against your boyfriend’s mouth. rin cracked open his eyes, through the blurred chaos, he admired your fucked out expression as you clung onto the wooden headboard for dear fuckin’ life. it was all too addictive to simple get off, how desperate and downright pussydrunk this man was, it’d be too cruel to pull away now! your thought process only strengthened when rin began to tug away at your sensative and soaked nipples from when he was mouthing at them earlier. he simply couldn’t get enough.

“stay with me..please, fuck! jus’ a little more, you can do that for me? please..?”

₊˚ෆ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈

so much of a sloppy eater, it’s downright disgusting. shidou’s hands are unpredictable, switching from caressing and squishing the soft flesh of your ass to swatting away at it with quick strikes. don’t get me started on his oral anticts. this man is fucking eating away at your poor pussy, flicking his tongue against your sore clit while suckin’ n kissing at your abused hole. you couldn’t even move your hips with how much he’d just forced you down onto his mouth again, thus you had to sit there and simply take what he gives you, and god, the noises. besides your own moans and sobs for him to slow down, shidou’s downright animalistic growls and groans fill your ears and go straight into your cunt. don’t think he’s done either after you squirt into his mouth, oh no no! he’ll only push you onto your back with the hopes of you crushing his head with your thighs. he can’t get enough of you.

“haah..ah..r-ryu..” was all you could mutter out of your sore throat. after much whining and sobbing from the overstimulation, you could only make small noises of pleasure while shidou ate away like a man on death row. lapping up the remains of your last orgasm, he pried and pried at your hole until you swore he was tongue fucking you. grabbing fist fulls of his blonde hair only fueled the maniac to fuckin’ nip at your clit, an action that forced another intense orgasm out of your abused cunny and soaked his face even more then before. you could feel a smirk form of his lips before he landed a barrage of sharp slaps onto the flesh of your ass, dragging you out of your euphoric afterglow in time to feel his tongue pushing itself back in.

“c’mon sugar, don’t lose me now! we’re just getting started..! now, keep those pretty legs open..”

₊˚ෆ 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔

mister aiku here pays attention to both puss and ass with glee. when he told you to sit on his face, he meant it. there's nowhere that his mouth didn't touch, meaning you couldn't run from this man either. similar to shidou, he eats like a starved animal in front of a piece of meat. fingers pumping you full while he pays special attention to your poor clit with the occasional nips that would have you mewling and whining like a bitch in heat. but sadly, he's a greedy bastard when it comes to sex, pulling away right before you could have you sweet orgasm. heterochrome eyes staring daggers at your fucked out face while you pleaded for him to let you cum. you were almost in tears when oliver finally stuffed your twitching cunt with his fingers once again and went to town on your clit again. did i mention he pays attention to ass? that poor thing was covered in handprints and crecent shaped dents from how hard he was grabbing it. maybe, even a little bite mark for good measure.

“oliverrrr!” you whined out. "let me cum already! pleasee!" through tears, you could still see that bastard's shit eating grin. he was fucking enjoying this, getting off at your desperation while you bucked your hips at nothing. down there, oliver was enjoying the show he put together for himself and himself alone. his thumb ghosting over your neglected clit, his eyes flicking up to your own, pleading ones. you looked like a kicked puppy who didn’t get it’s owner’s attention, just like how oliver liked you. a shit eating grin stretched across his lips as he promptly gave your ass a hard slap before finger fucking your cunny at a furious pace. the noises it made sounded straight out of a porno as the pro player flicked his tongue around your clitty. it was all too much to handle at once, or so you claimed. you knew damn well oliver could see right through your teary eyes, and sniff out your disgusting, whorish fantasy.

“keep cryin’ like that and i’ll stop again, you hear me? i know you can pretty thing..i fuckin’ know you can.”

₊˚ෆ 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

what a pervert, a proud one at that too! he couldn’t keep his grabby hands to himself all day, something the grew more and more dangerously obvious as the day went on. sneaky hands up your skirt or down your pants, gentle squeezes on your inner thighs inching too close to your wet cunt. the final straw was when you caught him trying to look up your skirt/down your loose pants. dragging him all the way home where he couldn’t even wait to get to the bed and pushed you against the wall, kneeling in front of you while patting his cheek eagerly. clinging onto whatever door frame or counter was nearby as bachira pressed open mouthed, tongue heavy kisses against your spread pussy. he was a messy eater as well, going as far as to even spit on your cunny before diving back in with the intention of drowning in your juices. bachira was full on obsessed. nothing could tear him away from your cunny, no matter how hard you yanked his hair or tried to push his head away. he’ll always come back for more!

“o-oh god..bachira, baby..!” you sighed, clasping a hand over your mouth in a feeble attempt to not alarm the neighbors. bachira quickly noticed and yanked your hand away, staring up at you with the same crazed look he had all day. he didn’t tear his eyes off of you, forcing to maintain eye contact with him as he licked and macked with your ruined cunt. your knees felt weaker and weaker, probably because of the last orgasms your monster of a boyfriend gave you, yet he just refuses to quit! not the stinging pain of you gripping his hair or even your efforts to straight up push him away so he doesn’t suffocate to death in your pussy. bachira, in retaliation, forced your wrists against the wall and gives your cunt a mean spat. you flinched in shock, watching as he simply goes back to eating you out like a madman. fuck, thank god you made it home in time.

“don’t shy away from me! i’m only getting started, my love..don’t you want me to please you? hm?”

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[pkg4mumtown]

Roxy’s Operation ORCHARD

Pairing: Luke Alvez x GN!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Summary: Luke wants to set up a date, but you’re both at work. So, he uses Roxy as an excuse.

Content Warnings: suggestive themes, GN!reader (no Y/N), strong language, first person POV, established relationship

A/N: 2 of 2 entries for @imagining-in-the-margins Criminal Minds Autumn Air Challenge. No art this time (crying), I’m so swamped with grad school, that I don’t have the time. This is also my first Luke fic YAY!

Also available on AO3

I was hyper focused on the report in front of me, intent on not making another spelling mistake lest I lose my mind. Dave and Emily were holed up in their respective offices, while Tara, Spencer, JJ, Luke, and myself caught up on reports after flying in from solving a case the previous evening. I could hear Luke’s impatient movements from the desk next to me, having been too engrossed in his own report to stand up in a while. I could feel it driving him crazy.

With an obnoxious groan, he let his pen clatter to on the desk and pushed himself away in his chair.

“Coffee anyone?” He asked as he stood up, looking around the room hoping to meet a friendly face but no one looked up.

“I’ll take one,” I answered, not looking up either so I could focus on finishing this last line.

Luke disappeared for a few minutes before coming back with two mugs, placing one on my desk.

“Thanks, Luke,” I finally let myself come up for air, looking up at him with a grateful smile as I picked up the mug.

One of the many benefits to dating him was that I didn’t even have to tell him how I wanted the coffee, not that I doubted we all had each other’s orders memorized by now. I looked at him expectantly as he didn’t go back to his desk right away; mid sip as he sat on the edge of my desk.

I gave him a warning glare to not fuck with anything on my desk but also to not give us away, even if JJ and Spencer had been suspicious for a while.

“Hmm?” I hummed while contently drinking my coffee.

“You busy this weekend?” He whispered, though I didn’t miss the minuscule tilt of Spencer’s head in our direction.

You’d swear the man didn’t have a cell phone in his pocket with the ability to text.

“Not unless we get a case, why?” I answered, leaning back into my chair.

“Well, Emily said we’re not on call this weekend, so…,” Luke trailed off.

I raised my eyebrows, thinking about slamming his kneecaps with something knowing full well he was feeding into their conspiracy theories.

“Roxy wants to go apple picking with you because she misses you,” he finally said with an innocent smile.

“Roxy, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“She really said that?” I asked, fighting the grin threatening the corners of my mouth.

“Word for word,” Luke nodded, taking a gulp of his coffee. “I know, I was surprised, too.”

“Well, for Roxy, I guess I can make some time,” I nod and put my mug on my desk. “Now, go away,” I shoo him off my desk, nudging his very firm thigh with the back of my hand.

Luke gives me a teasing grin, before finally moving back to his own desk.

--

I rolled over, feeling the sheets still warm but annoyingly empty. Grumbling, I lifted my head and heard rummaging in the bathroom, so I let my head flop back down into my pillow. Roxy had laid patiently throughout the night at the foot of the bed, avoiding both of our wild kicking while we slept. I wasn’t alone long, hearing the bathroom door swing open and seeing Luke's half-naked frame taking up the doorway.

Luke slid between the sheets, taking a deep breath as he buried his scruffy face in my neck.

“It’s a little too chilly,” he snuggled deeper into the blankets and me.

“That’s what happens when you get up at 0530, you sick freak.”

“I had to go to the bathroom, baby,” he pouted.

I quickly kissed him and cuddled closer to him, rubbing my cheeks along his facial hair.

“Place doesn’t open until 9, I think?” He pursed his lips, pressing a kiss to my jaw and down to my neck.

“9? That’s plenty of time for…” I trailed off as his mouth on my neck distracted me.

“…activities?” he grinned, pressing his hips against mine.

“At least kick Roxy out before she watches me defile her father.”

--

The morning was still brisk as we arrived at the apple orchard, bundled in sweaters and jeans with Roxy in tow. She didn’t exactly need a leash, but Luke followed the orchard’s rules. Plus, he knew better than to trust other people to behave.

I found Luke’s free hand as we strolled and gripped it, leaning into his shoulder while we browsed the apple trees. I was carrying our basket, and the orchard had provided Roxy with a much smaller one for her mouth. I used every little gust of wind as an excuse to stay plastered to Luke’s side, enjoying how much of a heater he could be once he’d eaten breakfast.

We chose apples at our leisure, not getting too many in case any upcoming cases would ruin our produce. Roxy sniffed out a few good ones for her own basket and happily trotted along with her findings.

“Ooh, look at that one up there!” I paused our walking as I looked up at the tree in front of me.

I pointed to one near the top, nothing either of us could reach even if we jumped.

“It sure looks good,” he sighed.

Resigning to the fact that it was out of reach, Luke turned to keep walking, but I didn’t budge. With my arm looped around his, I stood my ground and watched as he looked back at me with hesitation, fear, and a little bit of curiosity.

“I need it,” I smiled, taking the basket off my arm and thrusting it into his arms. “Be right back.”

“Uh, I don’t think we’re allowed to climb the trees, babe.”

We definitely weren’t allowed to. The signs were very specific:

Children under 13 must be supervised.

Dogs must be on a leash.

Do not climb the trees.

Roxy looked like she wanted to bark but looked up at Luke instead. She thought better of it and let out a little whine as I started my ascent.

“It’ll only be a few seconds. Just tell them it’s official FBI business or whatever,” I winked, navigating the trunk upward.

“Yea but—”

“Why are you riding my ass in a not-so-enjoyable way?” I grunted as I lifted myself onto the main branch.

Luke sighed heavily, looking around to make sure no one was coming to kick them out, “This is what I get for dating a retired Marine.”

“I’ll make sure to tell Dave you said that!” I shouted down.

“Yea? You’re gonna tell him about the dating part, too?”

“No, just the part where you called us dumb.”

“I did not say that.”

“You insinuated it,” I snarked back with all the sarcasm of friendly Marine versus Army banter. With one final grunt as I reached for the apple and picked it, I proudly presented the apple, “Got it!”

“Great, now please get down,” Luke stood exasperated with his hands on his hips and Roxy sitting patiently at his side.

I used my free hand to hook around the branch and hold my weight as I swung down. It was as effortless as every obstacle I’ve ever completed during both my military and FBI careers. Well, except for my sweater snagging on the bark just before I let go. I swung out a bit too far, the fabric of my sleeve catching briefly and snapping once my weight flung too far forward. It wasn’t a far fall, but my heels slipped out from under me while I flailed my arms. Gravity sat me firmly on my ass and lower back, making me grateful we had been walking in dirt.

Luke and Roxy both looked down at me, deciding whether to leave me to my own devices or help me up. Finally, Roxy stomped her front paws and gave me an impatient whine and growl. Luke chuckled, giving her a quick pat on the head and extended his hand to help me up.

“That was some pretty instant karma,” Luke tried to hold in a snort, brushing the dirt off my back.

“Yea, well I’m not letting you taste this one.”

“Oh no, I’m sure it won’t taste like the other ten we have,” he rolled his eyes as I put the apple in the basket and snatched it from his hands. “Let’s go before they kick me out for letting you run around unsupervised,” Luke laced his fingers with mine and started leading us back toward the entrance.

Embarking on the short walk back, I had barely let the side of my head drop to Luke’s shoulder when I shot my head up again.

“Oh! We should go look at pumpkins next!” I gasped, tugging his arm as I sped my steps up.

“Absolutely, not. You’re officially banished from produce this season.”

[sigh-tofm]

if you wear glasses …

… price

- makes sure you always feel beautiful, especially if you’re just starting out or feel insecure with them on. kisses the bridge of your nose and your forehead. wears his own reading glasses when he’s working on reports or just puttering around the house. sits with you on the veranda, hand in hand, reading quietly while the sun sets. both of you wearing your glasses.

… kyle

- forgets you wear them and sometimes kisses you so fervently that your combined breath fog them up. you giggle as he picks them off your nose and neatly deposits them on a free surface. you continue kissing him and to make it fair, kyle turns off the lights so he too needs to rely mostly on touch the rest of the evening. turns out touch is all either of you need.

… johnny

- has broken them on more than one occasion. he’s cracked the glass and bent the frame, and it has happened both during playful wrestling matches and, uh, intimate wrestling matches. visiting the optician to pick out a new pair becomes a bi-annual afternoon date for you two. johnny always pays and isn’t even ashamed to admit out loud what he’s done while your cheeks heat and you look anywhere but at the optician.

… ghost

- always makes sure they’re clean. once you take them off to sleep, shower or just rub your eyes, he steals them away (sometimes right from your fingers or even nose if you’ve managed to get something on the glass while cooking). first uses an alcohol wipe and then dries them off with a soft linen cloth bought especially for that purpose. does not let you clean them yourself. likes to make your life easier when he can.