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thedeadthree · 2 years

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— WHAT IS AT THE CORE OF YOUR OC?

the darling @chuckhansen, @unholymilf, @risingsh0t, @yennas, @aceghosts, @florbelles, @belorage, @adelaidedrubman, @roofgeese and @dihardys tagged me to take this loveliest uquiz for the dears! ty so much you all are so sweet <3

TAGGING: @griffin-wood, @bloodofvalyria, @queennymeria, @jackiesarch, @aartyom, @stormveils, @pearlcscent, @marivenah, @confidentandgood, @shellibisshe, @swordcoasts, @multiverse-of-themind, @loriane-elmuerto and you!

FRACTURED GLASS

no amount of orchestrated class is ever going to hide the fact that you’re doomed to be alone. you’re a puppet, you’re a weapon, but most importantly? you’re a fraud. your facade isn’t malicious, but that doesn’t change a thing. everything in your life is in your control now, and you chose to let yourself become stiff and distant. you’re guilty of everything you blame yourself for, and your misfortune is the fault of nobody but yourself. your selfish nature forges you into a man-made monster, so quick to blame and so desperate to escape consequence. i hope that you can become someone you’re proud of soon.

SPUN GOSSAMER

the easiest thing to do is stay quiet when something’s up. you’re not bothered, and you know what? you shouldn’t be! it’s none of your business, even when it’s entirely your business. it’s difficult (read: impossible) to tell if your cheery demeanor is a cover-up for something sadder, or if it’s simply your natural state of mind. you see a lot of things: people coming through town, people leaving the house and never coming back, lies and deceit of the highest degree. what happened to you? will you ever be that kid again? your presence smells like cotton candy, and your fingertips sparkle like stars. whatever white rabbit you’re chasing isn’t going to lead you to wonderland if you don’t start reaching out when you’re not feeling okay.

BEHIND THE MASK

you aren’t slick about whatever you think you’re hiding. glass shatters in your midst, blood spills, children scream. like some of your friends, your personality of choice is entirely artificial. the difference between you and them is that you can get away with it. you’re unknown, perhaps even to yourself, and your goals are complex and unknown. anyone stupid enough to fall for you is setting themselves up to be frustrated and confused, owing to your being ultimately unknowable. i hope you can find an identity that makes you comfortable.

CAUTERIZING RAGE

the house has burned around you, and you’re the only one left standing. is it gratifying to be the survivor? fear and anger are weapons in your capable hands, used only to serve your agenda of fighting back when deemed necessary. you're a powerful person, built from the ashes of your despair and your family's mistakes. with time, you'll bloom into someone softer, like the full blossoms that grow each spring and wither away with the leaves in fall. they won't disappear if you take your eyes off of them. you're enough.

BENIGN CULPABILITY

everyone hates you because you are a facetious lying bitch. …kidding, i think. seriously, though! you try way too hard to look like a picturesque example of class and responsibility, but you use your position as a social butterfly to take advantage of those weaker than you. it’s rare for anything not to be your fault, and everyone thinks you’re crying wolf when you actually HAVEN’T done anything. it gets kind of tiring to have everyone on your dick all the time, but it’s less interesting to actually behave. good luck with the therapy?

#only if you want to! 🥀❣️#oc: iovanna dayne #oc: lioslaith mac ruaidhrí #oc: sérëdhiel alfirin #oc: adda de trastamara #oc: ademarta cel tradat #ADDA? CAUTERIZING RAGE????? thisisfinethisisFINE..! i think we can all degree she deserves to lose it and go unhinged a little bit <3 #oh my god yall are right the CALLOUTS for the girls my jaw was on the FLOOR by each one?#MAR MARS BYEEEE..! even uquiz thinks you need to seek out someone to talk about that past of yours :') you are so right uquiz!#BEHIND THE MASK AND SERA BEHIND THE MASK AND SERA..! and who shes with and how that's like..... both of their thing..! screaming!#for a time her being an ally or a friend..! unbeknownst to you! you are staring down the enemy! GOD HER ANSWER IS SO <3 #okay now LISTEN HERE UQUIZ YOU :') @ lioslaith..! who gave you the RIGHT! her pretending everything is fine where! she really isn't!#leg.txt #leg.ocs #t: tag games #THIS WAS SO CUTE AHH TY TY i have to do this again soon with more clowns..! maybe the if dearies bc i miss them <3 #i need to rb an ask game so i can develop iovanna and sera these two are making me crazy rn <3 i love them so!#t: text #they really called iovanna out in this one i am so sorry my love skjnkanl..! but! her having a vice grip on her own fate!#and that she has a selfish nature in reality (that she is DEDICATED to pretend as if she doesn't!) and being cold and distant! im fine!#(and we will be here all NIGHT if i begin to yell about how that is a little TOO accurate to her and daemon kajnkxsnk <3)#maybe ill do this again with her descendant and the (possibly!) second hotd oc <3 #'facetious lying bitch' kjsanknajs AND DONT U FORGET IT <3 love that for u mar mar babe!

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mar-the-magician · 10 months

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45. have you ever been in a boat?

I complain about people never playing ask games with me and then I forget to answer when they do, the hypocrisy and the ADD are strong with this one

Once! Did not like it! I love the water, but this was a tippy little guy that made me very sick to my stomach

oh wait wait there was my friend’s rowboat a couple years ago— yeah that was leaky but real fun :D

#asks #ask box #ask game #asks and replies #mar’s musings 🪄#musing with mar <3 #fantastic horned owl #that’s your tag now friendo

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aceofvernons · 2 years

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i think that vernon laying on the bed as you straddle over his hips his hands hold on to yours while he grinds up against you because your mouth is on his neck & collarbone is a pretty thought. pretty red marks making him groan & gasp as they slowly turn a deep red when your lips pop away from his skin. your tongue teasing when he whispers your name only for you to look down at him & tell him how pretty he is. & the next morning he would admire the deep purple marks in mirror. - ♥ @onlymingyus

because the ask won’t tag you properly @onlymingyus COME ANSWER FOR YOUR CRIMES

LIKE LITERALLY WHAT THE HELL. WHY WOULD YOU DO ME LIKE THIS. I WAS SO NICE TO YOU EARLIER AND FOR WHAT. TO BE STABBED IN THE BACK LIKE THIS-

ok yeah i still love you but whyyyyyyyyy would you put this thought in my head againnnnnnnnn

i hate the outfit he wore to the airport i hate the fact that his shirt showed off his collar and hugged his chest and i hate that stupid little necklace because the last time he wore it he was wearing a tank top under a jacket and it showed off his shoulder

literally victorian men fainting over the sight of bare ankles have LITERALLY nothing against me i need three different kinds of smelling salts and a chaise to dramatically drape myself over like right now

i need help and like. a cold shower. i also need to go jump down a hole and stay there i swear

#asks #spicy #onlymingyus #i am going to pass the hell out and it will absolutely be your fault #you’re so evil whyyyyyyy #ok now it tags you but you deserve to be tagged twice for this #mars 🍑

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shranstan · 2 years

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for you i will say ent ❤

blorbo: do I even have to say it. shranster, shranson, shrannino

scrunkly: phlox. he is Uncle Shaped

scrimblo bimblo: hoooshiiii (not underrated in fandom, thankfully!! <3 my fellow ents love her. underrated in the show tho)

glup shitto: any of phlox's family!!!

poor little meow meow: difficult. gonna get by on a technicality. zefram cockrane is in fact in the opening episode

horse plinko: archer as well. just cuz i kin shran doesnt mean i want to fuck archer 🙄🙄🙄 but also hes like. he IS shaped but in an I want to see you squashed way. idk.

eeby deeby: harris. need i say more

#mars this is your tag now #thank you for the enabling <3 #ent

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viti-ocs · 5 months

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Idk why, but I still refer to my ex best friend's ocs and keep them as having once been part of my characters' lives. We all share an ex in a way, I suppose

#but yeah so I see all of his oxs that had relationships with mine asmy oc's exes #like yknow how I've referred to Nicco in the past posts tagged with Gesshoku's name? yeah thats one of em #tho canonically (before my ex bestie and I stopped talking) Gessy and Nicco weren't together anymore #the last rp we had with them both involved Nicco abandoned Gessy while she was pregnant with their son Shinichi #because of his mother and the cult/organization they were a part of. Nicco was like their puppet cause he's psychic (so is Gess)#but he didn't want Gessy getting involved with thecult and used like him. yet alone their kid because he's more powerful than his parents #so Im keeping that canon #but for others who were in pretty committed relationships yeah obviously thats over #my favorite ex of my ocs is my ex best friend's favorite oc who was originally dating marik and then seth #tho in rps seth dated the guy first cause they met in college and marik met the guy later. that's still canon in my oc universe #and the main reason for it is because seth is dating gresher now who's marik's big bro and it makes marik sooo pissed lmao #like imagine meeting a guy who turns out to be your niw ex's ex and now that guy is your brother's significant other #also I like to imagine marik was always getting compared to seth while mar was dating his ex #mostly because (in my universe) seth left the guy 'cause he was a toxic manipulative narcissist (just like my ex best friend #which was by hs design btw idk how I didn't see the signs)but the guy was legit in love with seth and was crushed to lose him #so he goes for the rebound with a badboy like marik but obv it isn't the same. also mar reflects back some narcissism which the guy hated #so it led to a pretty toxic relationship #now marik has to be reminded of all of that when he sees seth around because he is around often (might become an inlaw soon)#I just love how messy that all is #maybe it helps me cope with the fact I'll never get to interact with or rp with my friend anymore #those characters were like my stepchildren. Yknow? I still love them even if my ex bff and I aren't talking anymore #ocs and rp were what brought us together in friendship. it's hard to cope without that even all this time later #its been 5 years since we stopped being best friends. and a year since I cut complete contact. ik Im better off #but I miss this part of what we had together. in that case maybe keeping his ocs as my character's exes is a way to still keep him around #in spirit at least.#or a way tp show that even those he's gone from my lufe he's still left am Impact #viti shoosh

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zhongrin · 5 months

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festered wounds

— when you’ve never been the first choice your whole life, it’s hard to accept the possibility that you could be loved.

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, this is more of a vent drabble, hurt with comfort, reader with massive insecurity issues, implied past trauma, slight blood & gore in the portrayal of ‘hurt’

✼ a/n ┈ this…. got really personal, haha. i wrote this in a bad headspace, so apologies if it got depressing or if it’s of a low quality. i didn't want to have this in my drafts and i certainly don't want to bring it to 2024 so i'm just posting this now.

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“i’m sorry.”

zhongli’s heart dropped at the words escaping your lips. this was certainly the most unexpected response you could give to his confession, seeing the promising recent developments in your relationship — and so celestia forgive him, he had to pause to gather his thoughts. this made you fidget even more under his gaze, and so you succumbed to your frazzled nerves to continue in a more panicked voice.

“i’m sorry, mr. zhongli, i know you’re not the type to resort to deceit or find joy in toying with people’s feelings, but i’m just— i can’t—” you trailed off, feeling your chest tighten in pain.

“please, hold your tongue for a moment,” the refined man held out one of his hand to settle onto your shoulder comfortingly. his expression was a mixture of worry and confusion, eyebrows furrowing in a sign of distress. “are you saying that you… do not believe my words? you think i have malicious intentions?”

“….. i’m sorry, i’m just not used to- i’ve never-” you stumbled over your words and squeezed your eyes shut, “i’m sorry….”

zhongli watched you for a moment, observing the smallest ticks and the story behind your body language. you looked so vulnerable, like a scared animal instinctively cowering at some invisible threat. you looked as if someone had stripped away a bandage that had been haphazardly wrapped around a wound left unattended for so long, it had festered into an abomination, eating away at you slowly, even now.

belatedly, he realized that ‘someone’ was himself.

zhongli inhaled deeply, his palm leaving your shoulder. this time, he took his hands to tenderly grab your fingers, lifting them up to silently plead for your attention. your eyes were troubled and full of storms, the rain and lighting reflecting on your expression as a solemn flutter of your eyelashes and sorrowful downturn of your lips. the slight tremble of your body reflected the silent call for help from a blemished heart that never had the courage to forget.

“my dearest. i see the pain you have gone through. i have yet to know the tales that had marred your heart, but i want you to know that i am willing to be the pair of ears you tell your grievances to, and you can be rest assured that they will be safe with me. i know my words will not be enough to convince you otherwise at this moment… however, you must forgive my impatience, for it stems out of genuine love. i simply must humbly ask once again—”

“— please, give me a chance to heal you.”

“a-are you sure you want me?”

out of the 18 different responses he anticipated, al haitham did not expect this. however, his surprise merely manifested in the rising of both of his eyebrows and the subtle shift on his legs.

“unlike the consensus the public seemed to have one-sidedly agreed on, i am not foolish enough in the matter of romance as to confess to someone i do not hold deep affection and great care for,” he said in the same tone as the moment he asked if you would consider taking your relationship into the ‘officially dating’ phase, “is it not obvious? kaveh claimed i was ‘laying it on thick’ and cyno had noted of how i treat you better than how i treat the dendro archon.”

“oh….”

“….”

you thought you had gotten used to al haitham’s stare with how much you both had been hanging out, but right now you couldn’t seem to lift your head. the scholar crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your response. you were both gratuitous and dreading his resilience.

“i-i still think you could do better, though. i mean, look at you! you’re so fit, so wouldn’t you feel better if your partner is more of the sporty type? and you’re the top graduate of the haravatat darshan, so you would pair better with someone smarter…. a-and someone like me will just drag you down; aesthetically speaking, i… uh, leave much to be desired while you’re… you know…”

you spoke of such illogical assumptions and erroneous advices that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. you spoke of belittling yourself as if you were used to riding on the rails of insurmountably low dip of the self-esteem cliff for years. you spoke of these things as if you were repeating words someone told you at least once in your life.

and it angered him.

but he wasn’t angry at you. he was angry for you.

funny how empathy wasn’t his strong suit, and yet he jumped on the bandwagon as easily as an otter taking off into the waters the moment it came to you and your emotions.

“i care not for such shallow qualifications when it comes to seeking a partner. your presence triggers the relevant hormones that make me feel relaxed and comfortable, and my mind spontaneously seek for your attention. it’s only logical that i seek for an arrangement that would ensure these pleasant things to happen and develop further.”

“you’re the best choice for a partner, simply because i wish to spend the rest of my life with you; and i think that's enough.”

“i don’t think i’m a good choice for you…”

wriothesley looked as if you had pinpointed his weak point in a boxing match and delivered a straight jab right onto it. his lips slacked open and his body froze as he tried to process your words, the meaning behind it, the—

he inhaled deeply and punched his own fist into his palm, stretching his jaw with a growl before a darker tone took over his voice.

“alright, who’s been talking shit? let me at them. it won’t be manslaughter if they don’t die, right?”

he watched as your nervously fiddling fingers stopped twisting around each other, your eyes widened in shock and alarm at his words. briefly, he praised himself inwardly for being able to switch your mood at the snap of his fingers. now if only he could do that, but instead of surprise-and-horror, it could turn into surprise-and-joy instead…

“what?! wait- no! no one said that, i ju—”

“then is your own head telling you that?”

“it’s—” you gulped, gaze slowly breaking away.

he sensed a secret kept safe under the heaviest chains and locks. pain that had nearly torn up that warm heart of yours, shoved into the furthest part of you in a desperate attempt to save yourself; to silence the damned screams and the river of curses that would have made you self-destruct. he saw the remains of the thousands of needles that had embedded itself deep inside your worn heart a long time ago, and yet still it beat and struggled to not bleed out and drown you in its venomous blood.

he saw a heart as scarred as his skin, and he understood.

“..… alright, sweetheart, listen up, and listen close.”

the man’s hands suddenly cradled your cheeks, his icy blue eyes penetrating your clouded gaze. his whole demeanor had shifted into gentle and loving, as if he was holding his entire world in the palms of his hands. he resisted the urge to kiss you when you couldn’t help but lean onto his touch, instinctively seeking comfort.

he would do you better. he would give you the kind of love you’ve yet to experience. there were so much he wanted to say, but he chose to speak of the reassurance he thought you needed most at this moment.

“i say you’re the perfect choice for me. let me prove it to you.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #al haitham #al haitham x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #rin writes

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kiestrokes · 4 months

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WIP Game

tagged by: the lovely Jess @btsgotjams27

Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it, and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

1. double take | idol!Choi Minho of SHINee

2. Rock with you | boyfriend!Choi Seungcheol of SVT

3. Say My Name | fratboy!Song Mingi of ATEEZ

4. MUSCLE MEMORY | boxer!Jeon Jungkook of BTS

5. Two Untitled SKZ Wips + One Titled: Coregasm with Gyrmracha | Costume Party with MinChan | Star Lost with gamer!Lee Felix

non-obligatory tags: @chans-room @minttangerines (😏) @mochilatae @bangtanintotheroom @eureka-its-zico @hwaslayer @ladyartemesia @prettywordsyouleft @swallowedbymadness @xjoonchildx

#expect me to come ask about yours in like 1 week #bc my tumblr time is average 1 day a week for 15 mins atm #and probably longer for me to answer my own asks #sorry yall work is BUSY #tag youre it #moons of mars #now watch me wip

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frankieairobongrip · 11 months

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references to certain

im referencing you rn, apa style

#ask #hiii mar my beloved #you have your own tag now u know #noone else sends me as many asks as you do

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nereidprinc3ss · 11 days

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hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied.

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details.

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name.

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror.

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause.

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it.

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort.

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is.

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably.

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing.

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—”

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face.

Oh. He was fucking with you.

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer.

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you.

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies.

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly.

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic.

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you.

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room.

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder.

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back.

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately.

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin.

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are.

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer.

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach.

Something resembling jealousy.

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid.

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you.

You swallow and try to act like yourself.

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see.

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in.

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively.

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place.

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable.

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job.

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it.

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown.

She makes a good point.

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail.

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut.

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer.

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl.

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen.

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny.

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are.

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