#but less rational than usual

[thygoddessouijathicc]

What is Henry Miller? (To all who read this I’m sorry)

Awhile back I wrote an essay on what I thought Dave Miller was, in said essay I said I’d also analyze Henry. 

Now, analyzing Henry is easier said than done because we have very little to go off of as far as I am aware, so if you know anything Doggo has said about the topic please tell me and I might update this in the future to include that evidence.

But it is here that we must now talk about Henry Miller from a biological standpoint? Why? Because I am a masochist and will grasp at straws because of this fact.

Warning for spoilers and for the fact I again, don’t have much to work with, so this gets a little goofy. I apologize in advance for my eventual conclusion being what it is.

Now, there are three characters in DSAF with a very particular appearance that makes them stand out, each seemingly for their own reason. Jack, who is orange because of makeup, Dave who I have done a prior essay on, and finally Henry, who is pink and it’s never explained to any extent.

While we know now from my past essay and from things Doggo has said about Dave being a Cryptid (which I think doesn’t really mean I have to change my essay because it’s not claiming he’s not human exactly), Dave is decidedly not a human and looks how he does because he’s actually a humanoid creature that is evolutionarily distinct from humans.

And you might think that means I’ll just say Henry is the same thing as Dave. You’d be wrong because we don’t actually know that and if we’re going off of Dave being the standard appearance for whatever he is, Henry absolutely is not the same thing.

Now, we know Henry isn’t human, because upon realizing Dave isn’t, it becomes clear that Doggo always draws humans and bizarre Cryptids differently, and Henry is bright pink. 

Let’s now go over the physical differences between Dave and Henry with state they absolutely cannot be the same thing. 

Dave has teeth, but they are small, and rarely seen, as for Henry, Henry’s teeth are absolutely massive and seen in almost every depiction of him. Henry is pink rather than purple. His body shape and size are different. Henry does not have a neck like Dave’s. And all other details we know about Dave such as him having scales are never mentioned.

Next, I would like to address something I’ve decided. While I will be using official art as evidence I will take it with a grain of salt because it appears to be created by multiple people none of which are Doggo, the versions he did create of course being the actual sprites, which I will use more for evidence.

To go off the sprites, like Dave, Henry is multiple shades, unlike Dave who’s colour is accurately described every time and has a precedent in nature especially with his blood being purple, Henry’s is not. Let’s get one thing out of the way. Henry’s ingame sprite is not pink, it’s magenta. He’s been called magenta, and he is, but while you can call any shade of purple purple and be right, magenta is actually not pink. In fact, it’s not a colour. You may be wondering what I mean here, of course it is, he is magenta so how can it not be a colour? It is and isn’t. Magenta can only exist naturally as an optical illusion caused by blue and red being put next to eachother but not mixed, we can manufacture it or something like it, and it easily appears in games, but magenta is not actually real.

Now, why does it matter that Henry is magenta rather than pink. Well, as I said, magenta does not occur in nature. So how is Henry magenta? I mean, Dave being purple because of purple scales or blood is kind of a stretch to a degree given how rare those things are, but Henry is a colour that isn’t a colour. Unless he’s surrounded constantly by invisible fields of red and blue it’s impossible for him to look like this.

To be entirely fair, there are exceptions. These exceptions are plants. These exceptions are therefore irrelevant because plant and animal cells are entirely different. However, even in plants, it’s barely a thing, but it does tell us something, something that makes it possible for Henry to appear a colour that doesn’t exist, although it’s highly theoretical.

Magenta can only exist with the complete absence of green light. Magenta is two colours, blue-violet and red. For this to exist on Henry, he would be reflecting these two colours allowing them to be perceived by the human eye, and entirely absorbing green light causing him to visibly appear as a colour that isn’t real due to a total lack of a very large part of the light spectrum.

Now this brings a lot into question, namely, why is he absorbing green light, and how could this ever evolve? I mean, being magenta sound horrible from an evolutionary standpoint especially in a world so taken up by greens and browns, magenta stands out to the point that it’s actually hard to look at for extended periods of time, so how would something evolve to be a colour that stands out so much. It’s like ringing a dinner bell. There’s no hiding when you’re that brightly coloured… unless, you’re poisonous.

Yes. I’m saying Henry Miller might be poisonous. Yes, I’m laughing saying this. Yes, this is incredibly goofy. Yes, I’m actually somewhat serious.

The only way Henry could be magenta and actually evolve to the point he has, is if he’s poisonous. All throughout nature there are small, brightly coloured animals that you’d think would all get eaten, but don’t. Why? Because the bright colour is actually a warning sign to predators that they will die if they eat them. 

To be human sized and one of the brightest “colours” possible means that you’d have to be pretty fucking deadly. And no I’m not considering Henry being a mimic, because A MIMIC OF WHAT!? ANOTHER MAGENTA HUMANOID?! If he were, that wouldn’t discount the fact that a poisonous magenta humanoid exists in the world of DSAF?

Why didn’t I say Dave is poisonous, he’s also a bright colour. I didn’t think of it at the time and frankly, he might be, but my alien theory could discount this if he comes from a planet where purple is a more common colour.

Now. Henry could be an alien form a magenta planet thus meaning it’s a warning sign not to be, but I don’t feel like he is. First of all, how likely is it that they both are, it’s near impossible that even one is and if one is, it’s probably Dave, because Dave is almost impossible to have evolved on our planet, Henry however, if the theory about his pigment actually works, very much could have evolved from an amphibian creature on our planet.

The only question becomes why is he the only one and why is he unprecedented. Well, I don’t actually think he is. Unlike Dave who is mistreated for being physically different from others and has that brought up, how many times has Henry being magenta (which is commonly mistaken for a shade of pink so him being called pink is not a stretch) actually brought up as weird or different, it’s just kind of accepted as if it’s rare yes, but not that weird. I theorize that in the world of DSAF a humanoid species that descended from an amphibian species (probably a frog or newt), walks among us, and that’s what Henry is.

Going into this I said I was grasping at straws, and you can surely see that in this essay ending up claiming Henry is a frog, and that’s not even uncommon. We really don’t know much about this guy. Also, his backstory doesn’t say this isn’t possible. I do not think this is actually the case, but honestly this is the most possible explanation for him being magenta.

This essay, like all my essays, is for entertainment purposes only, and to share my thoughts with the fandom. Even if these thoughts are that Henry is a poisonous treefrog.

I’m so sorry I wrote this essay.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i rlly wish i could mute blogs without blocking cuz i dont want anyone to be mad at me but GOD some peoples takes just piss me off so unbelievably badly

[gurathins]

Hiiiiii sorry if I missed it but is there toby and frank beef? And could you elaborate on it 👀 much love to you and your ocs I adore Toby a whole lot 💗💗

AAAAAA THANK U SM and also thank u for asking heheheh also sorry this got a bit long. um. tw for poor mental health and suicide attempt mention in the latter part of the post 😬

Things between Tobias & Frank are v funny and complicated bc. well. They've known each other since they were like, well, 7? Figure skating rivals lmao 😭 They both loved to annoy the fuck out of each other but also tended to talk about many different things since both of them had parents that were Really Invested in their futures, meaning they tended to make them concentrate on the sport (+ school in Toby's case, Claudia (its mom) had planned out a med school backup plan for it in case something went wrong) and thus meaning that they had very little time and actually any peers to talk to.

Toby had hated figure skating ever since it started being into it and like, complained a lot about it to Frank. So Frank got an idea on how to end its career. They were skating as a pair during this one contest when they were 15, and at some point Frank kinda dropped (everyone thinks it's an accident) Toby down, thinking it would get like some kind of light injury or something that would heal fast and instead Tobias got its knee fractured. Chronic knee pain has entered the chat or whatever.

Toby was already on its second year of university at that point so it just switched to full time studying, though keeping some kind of contact with Frank. Frank instead got better and better at skating and ended up competing in serious international contests and stuff like that. I think the moment they actually stopped talking to each other was when Tobias left its family at 17 and moved to the other side of the country to work in a corporate lab (it got this fun idea and presented it on thesis fair -> some corporate headhunter spotted it and offered it a spot in their corporate x elite university accelerated phd program. Toby's mom didn't agree bc she wanted it to go straight to med school and they ended up arguing and Tobias just left (tm) and accepted offer).

ANYWAY! Fast forward several years later (they're both 22). Aleena (Toby's university friend) invited Tobias to cofound a skincare start up based on their cosmetic chemistry class project and Tobias agrees, thinking it's a great way to put everything that happened in the corpo lab behind (including but not only limited to Toby's fiance killed by either said corporates or the guy who asked them to give the project data to him for a 'media coverage'). Now you may be thinking how does Frank fit in? WELL.

At the same time, Frank is a famous figure skater and is (funnily enough) also making a breakthrough in acting. A famous young face might as well be the thing they needed for ads. So, Tobias ends up contacting him and asking if he'd like to be their celebrity ambassador or whatever. Frank agreed.

Said situation means that Frank also shows up in the office every now and then to talk "business", especially since he lives in the same city at this point (they're in Florida). One time he shows up and notices Toby being all stressed and stuff like that. Which is honestly the least of Toby's problems at that point (it was in a bad spot. really, really bad spot. it also doesn't remember like 80% of whatever was happening during all this start up thing). Frank asks if he could help in any way and in the end they end up, well, doing not safe for work things in Toby's office.

And so their weird situationship began. No they're not dating yes they are having sex every now and then (very often actually), Toby called it "associates with benefits later". Obviously they had to try hard not to show any signs of it in public bc neither of them wanted ppl to know that they're seeing each other like that.

Did it help with Toby's stress? Well. It did feel maybe a bit better at the beginning but started feeling even worse day by day, and adding up everything else (like substance use, declining feel of self worth and work stress) it really made things to its brain. They also bickered and argued, like, A Lot, which is honestly what they've been doing all the time they've known each other, but this was now affecting Toby's wellbeing very negatively. Frank was also quite secretive about his private life, maybe a bit too much for Toby's liking, which made it feel like he's hiding something.

And, well, turned out Toby's suspicions were correct. One morning, waking up in Frank's bed, it heard some kind of conversation from the living room. Apparently, this whole time, Frank had a boyfriend who knew nothing about their weird relationship and whom Tobias never knew about bc Frank didn't tell it anything. haha. It waited until said boyfriend left and walked out of the bedroom with this weird empty face and went "Oh so when were you going to tell me you have another person? Man I can't believe you used to me to cheat on someone" or something like that and just, well, left the apartment. Something clicked in its brain and made it feel so awful that it just, well, considered going home and eating a whole bottle of pills. Only thing that stopped it was coming home and realizing it doesn't have any left. It went to sit outside on the stairs of its terrace, to cry a little and wonder if it was worth it to go to the pharmacy. Some stray cat appeared from the bushes and went to cuddle next to it, making it feel much better and forget the idea it had, instead coming up with a new one. So it went back inside, packed its important things into two suitcases and a backpack, quickly sold its shares for super cheap to Aleena and just left, moving again to the other side of the country and wanting to forget the whole thing. To start a new page or something like that.

Frank and Tobias barely had any contact after that, not counting one moment when Toby was doing its chemistry master's degree and Frank showed up in the city. The whole thing ended with Klara punching Frank in his face. ANYWAY. They meet again when they are in early 40's bc guess who Toby's boss's boyfriend is? Frank. They had a brief conversation and then probably never talked to each other ever again haha.

[mejomonster]

I hate panic attacks

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

Me: oh good I finished my job tasks for the week and made some good progress on my capstone-

Brain: hey remember that PhilosophyTube video about abuse

Me: yeah I think Abigail made some rly good points-

Brain: yeah yeah yeah ANYWAY u need to hold still and be so quiet and make no messes. just in case.

Me: In case of what?? Nobody is home.

Brain: JUST IN CASE. in case somebody gets mad at you.

Me: but literally nobody is home?????

Brain: Doesn’t matter. someone Will Be Soon. ur dad probably. go hide in ur room hurry hurry it’s late and he’s probably stressed-

Me: it’s not even 3pm and I do not live with my dad what the actual fuck are u talking about

Brain: JUST IN CASE!!!!!!

[aeide-thea]

thinking abt (1) that post abt how most censorship is preemptive self-censorship¹ (2) bras²

⸻ ¹ wow, tumblr search actually worked for once??? ² i do understand and respect that for many people bras serve an actual structural function wrt support/comfort! however, for many other people (hi!) they do not, at least in everyday non-sports contexts, and that's the set of concerns i'm speaking to here.

[dumb-fictionkin-sideblog]

my day’s been well thank you for asking ^^ i hope your day’s been good too? also don’t worry about talking a lot it’s nice seeing someone be so expressive (if that’s the right word lol)

My day's been okay :) Didn't talk to people I wanted to talk to because Socialization Complicated but overall pretty good. I'm glad your day went good :)

[mare-the-silly-scroingle]

i think i'm just having a hell string of days honestly but i am getting food with one of my friends later and its. So hard bc i really do love his company but we dont live nearby and sometimes its just harder for me to connect w him. so i keep blowing him off but like. idk i dont rly want to hang out but i will then i will get my work done It will be ok its just hard i think

[mariasont]

hi hi hi!!! i know you’re working on the bau sleepover buttttt i was wondering if you could write a aaron hotchner x reader fic where like what happened to garcia, reader gets shot and she’s in hospital and they don’t know if she gonna be okay and stuff. her and hotch have this mutual pining for each other and when she gets shot he kinda spirals. after being released, hotch takes her to her apartment and stays with her until they catch him and stuff. i know this is really long, thank you!!!

Some Profiler You Are - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi thank you so so sooo much for requesting <3 i kind of took this a more fluffy route and focused more on the recovery so let me know if you like it :)

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: reader was shot, comfort, angst like a teensy bit, fluff, changing of bandages, kinda shitty ending per usual

wc: 2k

"Do you want to sit down?"

No, you really didn't. After spending the last six hours in a state of near-motionlessness, sprawled across various surfaces, the last thing you wanted was to do was sit down. Your legs had taken on the consistency of overcooked noodles, so you made the grave mistake of misreading the quiet of the house as Hotch's absence, a mistake punctuated by the garage door's sudden rumble.

You should have known better than to assume he would leave you alone for even a second. Now, you were face to face, his scrutinizing eyes boring into yours, arms crossed across his wide chest. He was in a casual zip-up--a rarity that you never imagined him wearing before practically moving in with him. But you really did enjoy this relaxed side of him, he wore it exceptionally well.

Taking work off was a concept you knew was foreign him, yet here he was, not at his desk, hovering over you like a concerned parent. The entire office, yourself included, gaped at him as if he had sprouted a different head when he told them. His next move was even crazier--he insisted you stay with him while you recovered.

You protested. A lot. Shocker. But he wouldn't take no for an answer. Again, Shocker.

You winced as you stepped forward, your hands automatically gravitating to the bandage that spanned around your thigh.

"You can't baby me forever, Hotch," you murmured, though your conviction wavered under the dull throb in your leg.

You braced yourself against the counter, trying to mask the discomfort you were sure was etched all over your face.

Filling the shoes of the communications liaison for the FBI post-JJ's shift to profiling, you signed up for a life of managing the media narrative, being the conduit between local and federal levels, and choosing the cases. You provided assistance in ways that aren't glaringly obvious.

What you didn't sign up for is getting shot.

The movies, the stories, even the firsthand accounts from coworkers--none of it could brace you for the raw, blistering pain of a gunshot wound. It fucking hurt. And the recovery? It was a different kind of torture, and you'd even argue that it was worse.

"It's not babying, it's common sense," Hotch countered.

He was frustrated. You had that effect. He stepped closer, his hand dragging down his face. "You took a bullet. It's still in your leg. It's perfectly rational for me to want to prevent any unnecessary strain on you."

"Feels dramatic," you shrugged, but he was right, like always.

Your grip on the counter tightened, knuckles growing white as you struggled to keep the pain under wraps. His brows lifted in response.

"I'm fine, really, Hotch. I hate this. You're probably dying to get back to work--don't let me be the reason you don't. Despite popular belief, I'm quite capable of fending for myself."

"I'm aware," he said, his attention briefly shifting to your bandaged leg. You were wearing shorts, a choice that felt less than appropriate, but practicality trumped formality under these circumstances. "Work will survive without me. I'm not sure I can say the same about you."

Your laughter was short-lived, swiftly turning into a stifled grimace as your footing slipped. Hotch's reflexes were quick, his hands steadying you--one against your ribs, the other just shy above the hem of your shorts.

"Point in case."

"Poking fun at a wounded woman? Shame on you, Hotch," you chided, your lower lip jutting out in a pout. His eyes darted to it momentarily.

He didn't move, his hands staying put, stirring a gentle, jelly-like feeling inside of you.

This was an odd sort of comfort, the kind you're not supposed to feel with your boss. You shouldn't be talking to him like this, shouldn't be in his kitchen, and certainly, his hands shouldn't be where they were. But the ache in your heart didn't seem to care about shoulds and shouldn'ts.

Hotch's presence was hard to ignore. He was reducing the space with every word.

"You're hardly acting like a wounded woman," he pointed out. "You should be in bed."

You tilted your head, sliding onto the barstool to carve some much-needed space between you. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating, and you needed distance to gather your wits before you did something that HR would definitely not look kindly upon.

The action was a mistake, a fact that became painfully clear as the feeling of something stabbing into your leg took hold. You tried to muster a smile, but you were sure it came across as a snarl. The last thing you wanted was to inflate Hotch's ego by showing that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

"Shit."

You followed his line of sight, landing on the fresh red seeping through the bandage and staining your shorts. Oh. That's not great. Don't think you can fool him with this one.

Hotch didn't hesitate, his response outpacing your own surge of panic, which was incredibly fast, because you were panicking and frankly not that great with blood. His hands were on your skin, easing the hem of your shorts upward to lay bare the wound you had stupidly  underestimated.

You're never going on a date again.

I mean, the only reason you even went was to get your boss of your mind. Since the first day, you'd been hopelessly drawn to him--how could you not be?

But there are a couple factors to consider.

Firstly, he was your boss, and the whole notion of a coercive relationship dynamic seemed problematic.

Secondly, there's the age difference; it had never been an issue for you--perhaps a reflection of your daddy issues--but you knew it would raise some eyebrows.

And thirdly, he didn't even like you back. That was, of course, the biggest issue. If not for this, the other concerns could definitely be overlooked. 

Before this whole incident, he barely acknowledged you beyond was professionally required of him. You knew you hadn't been part of the team long enough to bond--though you weren't sure Hotch did bond in the usual sense, but the point was made.

You were fairly sure you hadn't made much of an impression on him.

"Hold still." That was a tall order, considering it hurt more than a mother fucker.

You found yourself glaring at him--not that he was to blame, but you needed to anchor your frustration on something, or someone. Unknowingly, your grip had latched on the fabric of his zip-up, but he seemed unfazed. He grabbed a clean cloth from the drawer, pressing it against the wound, only furthering the colorful vocabulary going on in your head.

"Fuck, Hotch."

You didn't make a habit of cursing in front of your superior, but the sharp sting forced tears to the brink, your body going rigid as you snapped your eyes shut. 

His other hand found its way to your uninjured thigh, giving it a firm squeeze--a clear attempt to divert your attention. It worked for a second. "I'm sorry, just keep this pressed here, okay?"

He motioned toward the cloth, and you complied, too drained to consider otherwise. Your brows knitted, and you bit into your lip until you tasted something metallicy, your mind desperately racing trying to think of anything other than the blood flowing freely from your thigh.

"Where are you going?" You knew how panicked you sounded as he turned away, stepping towards a cabinet. 

He rummaged briefly before holding up a first aid kit. Catching the brief alarm in your face, he quickly returned to your side, his hand finding the crook of your neck as you instinctively clutched at his shirt once again.

"If you dare say I told you so, I swear, Hotch, fists will fly," you ground out through clenched teeth.

He laughed, and now that did distract you, your eyes zeroing in on his perfect teeth. It was a rare display, and it only served to aggravate you further. Of course he had perfect teeth.

"I didn't say anything."

"I could feel you thinking it," you said, your voice rough as you willed the moisture in your eyes not to fall. "Maybe I should be a profiler."

"Definitely."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you." You were lying. Everything suited him. He stepped back, and you reluctantly peered at the wound, only to find a neatly sutured leg. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"In this job, you learn to be handy with more than just a gun.”

You’d love to know what else he’s handy with.

He pulled your leg up to rest on his as he took a seat on the opposite stool.

Your body was buzzing, from the closeness, from his hands on you, and also from the pain, but you were trying to ignore that. He grabs a new bandage from the counter, hands trailing up your thigh so slowly you thought you might pass out. He was so gentle. There was no other word for it.

"How's it feel?"

You paused. Eyes fully locked on his precise movements as he wrapped you up. You were closer than you realized, practically sharing the same breath.

"Fine."

"Yeah?"

You nodded, and he finished up his task, his hand lightly patting your thigh to show he was done. You didn't move your leg from his lap, and he didn't move his hand.

"I couldn't sleep for three days."

"What?" Your brows were furrowed, your focus sharpening on his face as the words left his lips.

"When I found out you had been shot." He cleared his throat, his thumb making gentle rotations on your calf. "I couldn't close my eyes without seeing red for days. I wanted to kill the son of a bitch who did that to you. I almost did."

You weren't sure how to process this information, or why he was telling you. "You and me both."

"I'm serious." And you could tell he was, his eyes narrowing slightly as his hand firmly encircled around your leg. You felt a lump in your throat form as heat rose from your neck to your ears. "Do you know what that was like? I felt like my heart stopped."

"Why?"

"Why?" It was more a scoff than a word. He blew out a breath, his fingers pinching into the space between his eyebrows. "Is it not obvious?"

Your heart was beating a lot faster. You wanted to say something, anything but your throat was dry and every time you opened your mouth you found it snapping shut.

Hotch's expression softened ever so slightly, his voice low and bouncing off the walls as he spoke. "Because I'm in love with you."

Your breath stalled, as if every ounce of oxygen had been vacuumed from your lungs. The air felt heavy, almost tangible.

You stared at him, heart skipping a beat.

"That's not funny," you said. It wasn't. You weren't in the mood for jokes, and your brain couldn't comprehend he might be telling the truth. "You...you don't even notice me."

He shook his head. "I notice everything about you." His thumb stilled on your calf. "I'm your boss," he said, as if that explained everything. "There are rules, protocols. I couldn't...I still shouldn't..."

The confession stripped the room of its warmth, leaving a raw aching silence in its wake. You searched his face.

"When you got shot," he continued, "I realized that if I lost you, I'd regret not telling you how I feel for the rest of my life."

"Hotch, I..."

He leaned closer, causing your words to catch in your throat. His hand moved from your leg to your face. You were speechless, the world narrowing down to the man in front of you, to his eyes, the warmth of his hands.

"Say something."

"Are you kidding me?" Your heart was pounding like it was trying to escape from your chest. "I've been in love with you since I started. How could you not see that?"

He looked taken aback, as if your words were the last thing he expected. "Well—,"

But you didn't let him finish. "Some profiler you are."

You were practically climbing into his lap, hands framing his face, pulling your lips to his.

He chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through you. "Easy," he murmured, "don't make me fix that bandage again."

You laugh, the sound muffled by his mouth. He tasted like cinnamon and coffee. "Shut up, Hotch."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 (?) 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒  ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑫𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔: 𝑨𝒘𝒌𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑴𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑫𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒙

──  mdni sexual content. inclusive of: vaginal sex, slight pet name usage, shower sex, getting caught, sex as a stress reliever. but overall this is a lot of fun LMAO

the truth, is that caleb would always be willing to experiment.

he's had so much pent up for you, that you'll frequently find he has something in new in mind to try out with you—or, in short, he liked to find new ways to have his way with you. so it wouldn't surprise you that eventually, you'd have your hands pressed against the glass, your head tilting back to meet his kisses. of course, it would feel good, like it always did. his cock would fill you so well, and taking it from behind made you feel everything so much more deeply. it would be oh so asy for both of you to get lost in the pleasure, droplets from the shower, running down your back, the rush of water doing nothing to drown out your moans.

... but shower sex is never just rainbows and butterflies, and sometimes, being fucked silly allows all sense of rationality to go down the drain.

it's quick, when it happens—caleb accidentally knocks down the bar of soap, and the already-running water makes things progressively worse. you gasp, wide-eyed, as you slip, and caleb seems just as surprised as you. perhaps, his reflexes did him no favors in the moment, as his attempts to catch you only have him slipping on the very same trail of soap you'd also slipped on.

the both of you remain on the shower floor with agonizing pain, and perhaps you look more like a drenched, unsatisfied cat than anything else.

"shit—fuck—m'sorry, pipsqueak..."

"...we should just stick to the bedroom next time."

sex with rafayel is always so intoxicating.

he'd have himself buried inside of you in a way that just feels so right, so perfect, that you would always find yourself lost in the moment. whether he goes slow, or fast, or even if he lets you take charge, the result is the same—you could only ever focus on him, him, him. perhaps, it was intentional on his part, but you liked it that way. he made you feel good.

except sometimes, rafayel was too much of an airhead that your distraction wouldn't always end well... such as one particular morning, where he had you pressed against his couch, fucking you as well as he always did, and the sound of footsteps barely registered in either of your ears.

"rafayel, why aren't you answering my calls? i told you, this is an important deal, and—holy fucking shit! are you insane?!!"

rafayel never quite bothered to lock the door, and though you knew this and tried often to get him to do it, there were still times that he would... forget.

such as right then.

in that moment, you would yelp, hitting at his chest, barely having the strength to push him off of you as he hastily throws a nearby blanket over the two of you instead.

and thomas would storm away, eyes shut tightly.

"god! lock the door, rafayel, seriously! just—just finish whatever you're doing and call me back!"

"yeah, yeah. bye, now!"

"...rafa?! never let that happen again!"

in the years you've spent together, you had come to the conclusion that xavier liked to relieve his tension in very specific ways.

you didn't mind it, of course; in fact, you enjoyed it. it's become an established part of your week, him pressing you against the door in as soon as you get home from a particularly tiring mission, soft kisses gradually turning more heated and passionate as he leads you into the bedroom. these moments were some of the only times he'd allow himself to be more selfish with his desires for you, and with no surprise, you'd find yourself looking forward to it—expecting it.

but on one particular night, you find him to be less... dominant, than he usually would be with you in these moments, almost passive. but his hands still roam your body, brushing against all the sensitive spots he's memorized like the back of his hand, still kissing you in a way that would make you melt—so you don't question it immediately. perhaps, you think, he wanted you to take the lead this time.

except, you reach down, and he's...

...not hard at all.

even as you rub against him, as his lips place soft kisses on your neck—

there's no reaction.

he looks up feebly and then you find the telltale traces of exhaustion on his face, the tips of his ears pink with embarrassment. his eyes are nearly drooping closed.

"sorry, angel, i'm too.... i think... i think i just really want to sleep right now, after all..."

"...oh..."

over the course of the past couple of weeks, you'd found that zayne's adorable affection for cats had gotten the better of him.

the calico cat you'd often see roaming his street would now prance happily around his house, feeling almost more at home than zayne himself—surely, at least, that it was certainly home more often than him. you found it adorable, and sweet, and you loved it, you really did!

but...

your more passionate nights with zayne would be rare enough as it is considering his busy schedule, and it was unfortunate that you now hard a rather... entitled audience.

he would by thrusting into you so nicely, so deeply, your legs hooked over his shoulder as he leaned in to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. often, your eyes would be closed as you took in every bit of pleasure he would give to you, fully focused on the feeling of his cock stretching your walls the way you so desperately needed.

...only now, when you open your eyes, you find that a certain ball of fluff had casually walked over to lay on zayne's back.

your eyes lock, and it's almost as if the moment is completely lost.

zayne would stop thrusting, noticing your change in mood, and then he'd recognize the weight on his back.

"...sorry, sweetheart... should i—"

"....it's staring."

"..."

"zayne, maybe... we should do this at my place next time..."

⁺₊ / an: light moments to start the day!!! 💖 it was super hard to choose what exactly to write because there's a lot of awkwardness that goes into sex, but i hope this was a fun little read~

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[bea-does-stuff]

𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐇𝐒𝐑 𝐱 𝐘𝐍)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 696

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: 𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘿𝙧 𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩𝙮, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙮𝙣'𝙨 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙨𝙩 ^^

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

Arguments with him are nothing less than common, with his genius complex and snappy attitude, you both end up initiating an argument about something neither of you truly care for, and of course, you're the one who usually ends up apologising, even when he was in the wrong

This being said, one time, there was one time, he went too far

“God! I truly wonder how you manage to exist and function with that sad excuse of a brain!” veritas snapped, you were use to him saying stuff like that, and you knew he never truly meant them, but it was getting so repetitive you had enough

You didn't even bother responding, you simply slammed the door and headed outside for a break, and as for veritas, he probably cooled himself off with a relaxing bath

It was only when he was done destressing, when he realised the horrible way he spoke to his dearest partner

Upon your arrival, he initially tried to give you space, he stayed in his library reading, as you did your own thing, but the guilt stabbing through his chest slowly became too intense for him, and he quickly rushed to where you were

“Dearest,” he mumbled, you didn't give him an answer, he didn't deserve it

He huffed at your comment and left house, which left you stunned initially, until he returning home with a bag full of your favourite foods, as well as flowers and a plush of your favourite animal

It was so clique, but he didn't know much about this topic, he was always superior, he never had a need to apologise to others, but he wanted to apologise to you, out of respect for you

You sighed and nodded “its fine, veritas” he looked away, scoffing as his cheeks bloomed a faded pink 

“Good. that is good.” he whispered, you had to know dr ratio pretty well to sense the relief in his tone

“I must say, this is a very thoughtful way of apologising, 5 points” you teased, he rolled his eyes, fighting back the small smile crawling up his face

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

He is prideful, very prideful, and when he has an opinion, he leaves no room for others input or objectively wrong opinions, which makes it almost impossible for him to apologise

Arguments with him feel like speaking to a wall, on very rare occasions will he say anything, almost making it seem like this situation was…meaningless to him, like your feelings were meaningless to him

This one day made you snap, and you actually began to sob quietly while you were arguing

This made him glance back at you, a look of surprise and…dread on his face

“My angel…” he mumbled, but you rushed out before he could say another word, leaving him alone with his racing thoughts

Despite being a cold, rational and controlling serafin, he is a very paranoid individual, and his mind began to flood with possibilities of you leaving him behind to find someone better, or thoughts of you growing to hate him and seeing him as the control freak others label him as.

Because of this, he let you have your space, and spent an hour or two asking his dear sister robin for advice, she was a lot more well versed in tending to people's feelings and apologising for making someone hurt

Once robin was done lecturing his brother, sunday returned to the house, finding you buried under a layer of cushions and blankets

“Angel…i…” he took a deep breath and looked at you with those…piercing yellow eyes

“The way…that i disregarded your feelings…it..it was unacceptable and cruel” you slightly lifted the blanket on your face, staring at him, still slightly upset

“I…deeply apologise, you don't deserve such cruelty from a man who dares call himself your lover”

You sighed, a sad yet relieved smile on your face “you apologising is a strange occurrence, so i know you mean it”

He brought you to his arms, his wings fluffing up due to how happy he was to have finally worked up the courage to apologize and make you smile

Robin would indeed be proud

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream when jealousy occurs. 

Mark Lee

He finds you laughing with his co-member and honestly, while he loves that you're getting along with them he couldn't help but feel jealous all of the sudden. Mark will be quiet as he stares at the scene. He loves you and of course he trusts you and his co-member so much. Maybe he's just jealous that your attention is on someone else, so trust me when it's just the two of you, he'll be clingier than ever. You'll be confused and will poke him until he revealed that he saw the scene earlier, you'll laugh at how cute his jealousy can be!

Huang Renjun

Renjun's mood darkens the moment he finds you being TOO close with a male friend. He knows your guy friend, and even though you told him that everything is platonic, he just couldn't help but be jealous because you two have been friends longer than you and Renjun became a couple. He'll probably leave snarky comments like, "you and him are so close, aren't you?" and you'll be quick to catch that he's jealous. You'll assure him that it's nothing but is hopeful that he can be close with your guy friend. 

Lee Jeno

OH. Jealous! Jeno is a rare occurrence. I feel like Jeno tries to be as rational as he can be when it comes to his jealousy because he doesn't want it to be a reason for you two to fight. BUT lately, you've been so close with his co-members, sure that's because you found a similar hobby with them that's why you two tend to talk about it, leaving Jeno alone as a third wheel. That's why his jealousy couldn't be help. He'll be that sulky type of jealous where he'll complain about why he's jealous, so you have to shower him with affection to make it up for him!

Lee Donghyuck

Haechan gets jealous so EASILY. Once he finds you in the club with someone talking with a guy. And while you have a small smile on your lips, he knows that you're trying hard to nicely turn down the guy. Even so, his jealousy still appears! He'll approach you, clings to you like arms around your waist, back-hug and a small kiss as an entrance. "Do you know him babe?" HE RARELY CALLS YOU BABE so you'll be soooo confused. Once the guy leaves apologetically, you'll glare at him and he'll ignore it. "What? I didn't do anything." You know why he did that though!!

Na Jaemin

Jaemin is the silent type of jealousy. When he sees you talking to someone AND you two seem to be very close, even the guy whispering to your ears and making you laugh. He'll be shooting lasers at the guy. That's why it's just the two of you alone, you'll notice how he's been oddly quiet. "Does he really need to whisper to you what he wants to say?" Jaemin mocks. That's when you realized that he's jealous, making you laugh and have to explain your side so that it won't blow up further. 

Zhong Chenle

Chenle will be quiet, his rage slowly building up inside but at the same time, he doesn't want to exert effort and emotions on a silly thing called jealousy. So once you waved goodbye to your guy friend and approaches your boyfriend who seems to be in a foul mood. You'll have to poke it out of him before he blurts out to you that you and your guy friends seems to be pretty close than the usual. You'll be confused at first but when you realized that he said that out of jealousy, you'll tease him so hard that it'll make him pout because why are you teasing him!?

Park Jisung

Jisung lets himself be rational first. It's just you and his co-members talking. Nothing more, nothing less. But once his co-member became touchy to you like the way their hands pats your shoulder, it'll heighten his senses and his jealousy is slowly building up! Still it'll take him long to burst out, when it's just the two of you. Be prepared to be interrogated by your bf. What are you two talking about, why does it have to be in private, why is he touchy ??? tell him !! you realized that it was his jealousy that's talking that's why you have to CALM down your boyfriend and tell everything you and his co-member talked about so that he'll be assured. He'll probably say sorry and pouts because of his jealousy is showing. 

[lurochar]

To Give Comfort

After his mother dies, Alastor turns to you for comfort.

Part 2

18+ MDNI

–------------------------------------------------

Alastor pants into your ear, feeling you shudder beneath him as your arms tighten around him. His mind is in a haze of both pleasure and intoxication – the sex and whisky serve their purpose as a relief from the drowning grief he had found himself spiralling into.

He knew it was coming, his mother has not been well for a while now and he thought he had been prepared for her inevitable death, but no – he had never expected it to feel like this.

But he had a reputation and image to uphold, he was a man and he couldn’t be seen as weak.

He did not cry once and his usual smile seemed to fool everyone, his co-workers at the radio station, passersby from his daily life, acquaintances from his favoured speakeasy. Even Mimzy.

It fooled everyone but you.

Alastor really should have known.

“I know you’re hurting.” You finally manage to corner him at his home after a week of him avoiding you every time you try to reach out. “Alastor, please. You don’t need to pretend with me. Is there anything I can do?”

Alastor stays silent for a moment, staring at your distressed face and feels his drunken thoughts wander in many different directions. He is a little tipsy at this time, most of his rationality is still there, but there’s a part of him that’s still in pain – he’s unfamiliar with it, he hates it, he wants it gone.

Can you relieve him of his misery?

“Anything?” Alastor, though not completely sober, still moves with the skill of a hunter and he has you pinned against the wall before you even realize what happened. “If this were to happen, we can’t go back. I won’t let you go back. Is that what you want?”

You seemed a bit shocked, but slowly wrap your arms over his broad shoulders and press yourself against him. “I hate seeing you like this.” You feel Alastor practically slump against you. “Wherever this takes us, we can see when we get there.” You can feel his eyes staring so intently at you that it almost makes you shiver.

Would you regret your actions?

—---------------------

“Fuck!”

Alastor smirks, rubbing your flushed cheek affectionately. “How unlady-like.” He teases, gripping your hips so you couldn’t squirm away when he quickened his thrusts, making sure his cock hit that special little spot of yours deeper and harder each time, causing you to let out a high-pitched cry. 

“A-ah, feels good.” You tossed your head to one side, jumping and feeling your body spasm when you feel Alastor’s fingers slowly rub at your slick clit. The jolt of sudden pleasure has you clenching around his cock and he grits his teeth, barely holding back a groan.

Alastor slowly lowers himself to lie completely on top of you, careful not to hurt you under his weight. His eyes half-lid when he feels your hands card through his brown hair and shudders a sigh, slowing his thrusts until his hips are barely even moving anymore.

He wants to bask in this– your warmth for much, much longer. It’s burning away the ache and the pain, it’s lighting the dark depressing grief, and if he leaves now, what would happen?

Alastor knows, of course.

He would go hunting, less careful, sloppy, uncaring if his targeted victim truly deserved their gruesome fate at his hands. More than likely, he would be caught as the Bayou Butcher if he leaves your embrace now.

“Is everything…all right?” You ask after a moment, your breath still caught in your throat when Alastor keeps stroking your clit. “If you need to stop, that’s okay.”

“No, Darling,” Alastor rests his head on your chest, closing his eyes as he listens to your beating heart and he realizes he would like to listen to it for the rest of your lives, “just let me stay here for a minute.” He tilts his head and gives you an almost sultry smirk. “But then, I want to hear you beg for my cock.”

Did you regret your actions? 

You did not.

[whoskimii]

I WANNA GET FREAKY ON CAMERA . . .

his favorite camgirl ft. toji !

it was ridiculous.

he was a grown man. he was supposed to be a responsible adult. but toji couldn't care less as he logged into his not-so secret account every night.

you were younger than him, maybe in your early twenties. he knew he had to save money but even with how broke he was, he managed to send you some leftovers, only to see your cute little smile when the donation popped up on the screen.

he always competes with the other viewers. you have to notice him, after all. and you do.

whenever someone else sent you money, he did the same right after. and he sent more. he had to send more. sometimes, he even cringed when he checked his bank account but the feeling was swiftly followed by a shrug.

he watched with tired but keen eyes, staring as you waved at the screen with a sweet little grin. his phone was lazily propped up on the coffee table in front of him while he held a beer on his thigh. he got comfy and spread his legs before placing his free hand behind his head.

"hi, everyone !" your voice flew from the device. "how are you ? good, i hope !" you smiled. "as for me, i'm doing fine, as always." comments began to flood in, covering half of the screen. toji, getting annoyed, groaned inaudibly. he didn't give a flying fuck about what other people said, he just wanted you. he wanted to observe his pretty baby without any unwanted distraction.

nonetheless, his emerald green orbs settled on the comment section. he read instinctively, although with a disinterested expression.

idontevenexist : is that a new shirt?? x

sexxwithken : love that shirt baby

huh ? his gaze went from the comments to your outfit. he was so focused on something that he usually didn't care about that he hadn't even noticed the new top you were wearing.

it was cute.

it fell off one of your creamy shoulders. the pink of the shirt brought out your pretty eyes and of course, he couldn't miss the painfully obvious way it exposed your generous cleavage. no one could. they were here for that, anyway. "aw, yes ! it's a new shirt i bought especially for you, guys. thank you for noticing !" you sent a flying kiss towards the camera.

you haven't even started to do anything yet and toji already sent a small amount of money. for starters.

he subconsciously chuckled when you smiled. you approached your face to the camera and waved again. his eyes drifted down and settled on your cleavage shamelessly. "oh, look, guys ! my favorite viewer is here ! hi, toj' !" you beamed happily.

he quirked an eyebrow in surprise.

favorite viewer ?

that was definitely a first. sure, he was a fervent follower and he watched you almost every evening but you never mentioned him being your favorite before. well, he figured that being your favorite wasn't so bad. he acted like he never wanted this in the first place.

comments of curious followers appeared.

akitousui07 : you have a favorite viewer?

fairyylady : favorite viewer ?

idontevenexist : i thought i was :(

hotstuffff : didn't know you had a fav viewerrrr

as toji's eyes lazily trailed over the comments, he scoffed. he was proud to be your favorite viewer. who wouldn't want to be @yourlovelycamgirl's favorite ? you were quite known on the platform.

you giggled. "oh, don't worry, i love all of my followers ! but toj' is definitely my best viewer !" he couldn't help but feel a pang of delight stir at his chest.

it was ridiculous.

he knew it was. but you were so sweet, he couldn't help it, really. you were a pretty girl. everyone wants to be loved by a pretty girl.

he also knew that for a certain price, you sent private videos. private videos with requests, private videos with a precise outfit, you name it. but of course, the price was maybe a bit too high for what it represented. it was a simple video.

but all of his rational thoughts went out the window as he clicked on your username and began to type a message.

toj1231 : you up for a private vid doll?

:3 you wanna see more ?

[11vr1]

Been Away ⭒ Miles Morales

Synopsis › You were tired of his secrets and lies, so you did the one thing you promised you’d never do and walked away. But Miles Morales wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

Pairing › Earth-42! Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

Inspo › “Been Away” - Brent Faiyaz

Includes › ATSV SPOILERS, Angst, the tiniest bit of fluff, pet names, spanish, a microscopic amount of manipulation, toxicity, going back to your ex, stalking, harassment, mentions being mugged, mentions being stabbed, mentions the police

P.S. › I do my best work when I’m sleep deprived.

P.S.S. › Reading comments and reblogs really make my day, even if you’re telling me my commas suck. Requests are also open.

Y/n pulled down the sleeves of her crocheted sweater as she stepped out of the bodega, white plastic bag of chips and candy in hand. The sun was close to setting behind skyscrapers and plunging New York City into its usual state of terror. It was dangerous to be alone on the streets, but Y/n figured she’d be fine walking a few blocks to her friend’s place. She pushed through sidewalk traffic, passing others who were just as eager to be safe in their homes.

Her phone chimed with a text.

Unknown: Turn left.

She paused, looking up to scan her surroundings. There was nothing strange or out of place. Just stores closing up for the night and people minding their own business. Despite how normal everything seemed to be, Y/n knew better. She spared a glance at the alley to her left, immediately deciding against it and kept walking.

Another chime. She ignored it and the next. Stopping wasn’t worth possibly ending up on the eleven o’clock news. At least that’s what she told herself. The less rational part of her mind had a thought. In some ways more terrifying than being mugged.

Tucked away in her pocket, her phone rang. This time she checked. Unknown. Y/n scoffed, rejecting the call.

Unknown: One more chance.

Unknown: Take a left.

Unknown: I won’t ask again.

Her phone rang once more. With a long, begrudging sigh Y/n swiped to accept. “I thought you weren’t going to ask again,” she said, her eyes darting warily to the darkening street.

“Make a left, Y/n,” a deep distorted voice ordered from the other line. Her heart dropped. Maybe the irrational part of her brain wasn’t as off kilter as she thought. The call hung up like she didn’t need anymore convincing.

The yawning mouth of an alley stared back at her. She took a calming breath, inhaling the morning rain before stepping away from any potential witnesses. Her footsteps echoed in the eerie silence of the alley. Her skin heated in either fear or anticipation, she didn’t know. “I don’t have all night,” she spoke into the open air. “I will leave.” Y/n attempted to hide the tremble in her throat.

Her ringtone was shrill in the alley. She jumped. The bright smiling photo of her friend illuminated her face. She did not hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“Thank god! You’re still alive. Are you close?”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, Ellie,” Y/n began to exit the alley. “The bodega line was long.” She rustled her haul of snacks.

“It’s getting dark. I can send my brother to meet you. Ya know he’s always had a bit of a thing for you and now that you’re single…” Ellie trailed off. Y/n could practically hear her smile.

She rolled her eyes, laughing nervously, “You don’t have to make him come get me. I’ll be—” She was cut off by her own scream ripping from her throat. A streak of darkness and neon flashed in front of her, swiping the phone from her hand. Her grocery bag tumbled to the concrete as she stumbled over her heels. Cold metal met her back. A well defined arm snaked around her waist, held her impossibly tight.

“Y/n? Y/n!” Her friend’s voice rose over the speakers.

The smooth phone screen pressed against her cheek. “Tell her you’re okay then hang up,” the same warped voice demanded in her ear.

Y/n felt her lips move before he ended the call. Some quick lie about a monstrous rat. Blood thrummed through her skull along with her ragged breaths.

“Let me go!” Y/n wrestling out of his grip with no resistance, finally turning around. She halted. Pixelated eyes narrowed at her. What had she been expecting? Was a mask better?

Getting slashed for the money in her wallet and being left for dead by a dumpster was starting to sound more appealing than her current situation.

Mechanic panels whirred and parted open. Rich, penetrating dark eyes took in every inch of the girl in front of him, peeling back layer after layer in that calculating glare Y/n knew all too well. “Hola, mami.”

She hoped to never hear that name fall from anyone’s lips. Much less his. Y/n allowed a selfish moment to let her gaze wander. His braids were fresh, obviously not her work. Fade clean. Jay’s untied. Bronze skin annoyingly flawless. He was the same, except for the faint bags decorating his eyes. His chuckle bounced off the brick walls, catching her. It was sobering.

“You have one minute, Morales. One minute before I run screaming and call the feds on your ass,” she crossed her arms.

“Morales?” Miles raised an eyebrow. “Damn. Is that what we doin’ now?”

“Fifty.”

He circled her like the predator he was, each footstep deafening. “You look good, ma. Where you goin’ so late? It’s not safe.”

“You know where! You’ve been following me, remember? How long have you been doing that for? Just another secret, huh?” Y/n was on the verge of yelling, her initial fear replaced by pure rage. “You’re not even going to deny it.”

Miles dared a step forward. Y/n took two back. “You’re afraid of me.” Her lack of an answer was a shattering confirmation.

“I’m afraid of what you do, Miles,” she motioned to his suit, the spray painted insignia physically painful to see on his chest. The Prowler. She would have never fathomed the possibility if she hadn’t seen him in action herself. “You’re a criminal. You steal. You’ve killed people,” she choked trying to swallow back tears.

He dragged a gloved hand down his face. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right! I don’t get it. You changed and I don’t understand why.” Her waterline welled. Three months of suppressed feelings threatened to rear their ugly heads when he was near. Because of him, of course.

It was ironic how much he made her feel, even now. Ellie, other friends, Y/n’s family never fully warmed up to Miles. He was unfeeling, nonchalant, closed off. They couldn’t see how a girl like her could fall for him and stay. At least that’s the promise she made.

“So did you. You walked away. Left me. What happened to our forever, Y/n?”

“You expected nothing to change? In what world would I not react or feel some typa way?” She tensed. Another wave of anger seared through her veins. How dare he turn this on her? “Oh wait,” her laugh was humorless. “I was never supposed to find out.”

“I have to do this. The world ain’t right and I need to protect the people I care about,” he placed a hand over his armor, over his chest. “I couldn’t do shit about my dad, but you…” He stalked closer. This time she didn’t back away.

Miles grasped her hand, placing it over his heart. She couldn’t face his intensity for too long, not without air. He wore the same musky cologne she gifted him for Christmas.“Mirame,” he tilted her delicate face towards him. “Mi corazón, I can keep you safe. You gotta let me. If something happened to you I don’t know what I would do.” His chiseled features twisted, barely able to utter the words. He finally closed the space between them, resting his forehead against hers.

“One minute,” Y/n whispered. It had been more than one minute.

Without separating, he slowly slipped her phone into her back pocket, letting his fingers linger by the waist of her jeans. “Call them. I’ll stay right here and you can end this. You’ll never have to see me again. Prometo, mi corazón.”

She should have listened when Ellie told her to stay away. Undeniably gorgeous, genius level intellect, sexy accent. There was always a catch, she said. She was right. But there was one drawback not even her best friend predicted.

Y/n pulled away. Suddenly the autumn air was too chilly through her sweater. She unlocked her phone. Typed 9-1-1. She looked up through her lashes at Miles as if he would melt into the shadows and escape. She didn’t expect sheer defeat to paint his face, unhidden behind his usual mask of indifference. Her thumb froze.

Miles Morales had Y/n entranced. He’d woven himself into her being, hollowed out a space in her soul just for him. Those titanium claws were in deep and she didn’t know if she had the strength to pry them out or wanted to.

Y/n pocketed her phone. She resigned to every emotion she harbored for the boy in front of her. She chose every wrong decision. “Go, Miles.”

His grin was smug. “Should I call you?”

“Don’t push it, Morales.” He draped his arms around her shoulders, dragged her into his warmth. “I’ll unblock you. Sound good?”

Miles angled his head. His smile stretched to his eyes, showing those rarely seen dimples. “Sí, mami. Whatever you want.”

[reiding-writing]

Omg imagine Reid being incredibly touch starved and literally having this very primal craving for affection to the point it's all he can think about but he cannot for the life of him get over his fear of germs and it's just all this angst and ahh

deprivation [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer needs support. He needs it. But he for the life of him just cannot reach out for it himself. And after one particular case, you make an effort to try and quell is emotional rampage.

WARNINGS: germophobia, self deprecation, touch deprivation, emotional breakdown

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: ANGST, hurt/comfort

wc: 2.8k

masterlist!!

a/n: great minds must think alike because i was actually already working on this when the request came in😭

i made this less angsty than originally planned, but i hope it suffices nonetheless the less, thanks for the request! <33

Spencer Reid was exhausted in every sense of the word.

His muscles ached, his head pounded, and he was so burnt out he didn’t even have any thing to say when JJ had incorrectly mentioned a ‘fact’ about a certain sub-species of butterfly that was supposedly native to Oregon.

His exhaustion only proved to get worse as the jet took off for Virginia, but the unfortunate rampaging of his own mind proved any chance of him sleeping on the flight home impossible.

“Hey… Are you okay?” Your voice seems to echo across the silence of the cabin despite you practically whispering to avoid waking your teammates, and Spencer’s eyes flicker up towards you, clearly not having expected you to be awake.

You stand up from your seat, walking down the aisle to take a seat on the sofa next to Spencer, his head resting in his hands as his eyes followed you. “You’ve been really quiet since the case ended,”

“I’m fine…” He said the words, but it wasn’t reflective of his tone of voice. There was something there. Something more, something beneath the words.

A sadness.

An uncertainty.

And if you listened to his voice, not just to his words, you’d hear a hint of pain, a deep seeded sense of misery that he was concealing beneath the usual layers of stoicism.

“Spencer you’re talking to a professional profiler, which I don’t even need to be to know that you’re not okay.” You can’t help the soft sigh that escapes your mouth, turning to sit sideways to face him properly.

"I'm fine," He said the words again, and this time they held a touch of force. But the words did not match his tone, still pained, wounded, and silently pleading with him to just be honest with you.

And as the words came out of his mouth, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if hoping that what he was feeling would be gone by the time he opened them again.

But when they fluttered open through his eyelashes he was still on the sofa of the jet and you were still sitting there and he still felt miserable.

“If you don’t want to talk about it then I won’t pressure you,” You dejectedly resign yourself at Spencer’s insistence, leaning your left side against the back of the sofa. “But just know i’m here for you if you ever want to get something off your chest okay?”

"It's just...It's just-" He paused, biting his lip as if unsure about what he was about to say. He knew it may be dangerous to let himself slip. So he considered his words carefully before he spoke again. "...it's just been hard...I’m so stressed and...I'm...feeling vulnerable. And I don't like it. I don't like it at all."

“Everyone’s gonna feel like that at some point Spence, especially in our line of work,” You tilt your head slightly at him, a soft expression painting your features that matches your tone.

"I know..." He said, " But...I don't like feeling like...like i can't cope. Like I'm scared. That's not who I am. I'm supposed to be the rational one. The smart one." Spencer dragged his palms up his face and back over his hair, leaning back against the sofa with his head leaned back against the wall.

“I don’t like being scared,”

And there, again, in that simple sentence was another hint of the hurt that his apprehension hadn’t managed to fully hide. “I’m meant to be better than that.”

“Spencer just because you are a functioning genius does not mean that you’re not allowed to be scared, that’s a part of what makes you human,” Your face furrows as you become increasingly concerned for Spencer and his mindset.

"I-...I know..." He said the words, but the underlying message was clear. He might know that he was supposed to have emotions and he might know that expressing them is healthy, but there was a part of him that was screaming at him to suppress them.

To bury his feelings and pretend to be the robot that his childhood (or lack thereof) had forced him to be.

He wasn't trying to be resistant, he was just...afraid.

“When was the last time you cried Spencer?” The question blurted it’s way out of your mouth as your concern for Spencer only continued to grow.

"Why would you ask me that?" His tone of voice was almost affronted by the question as if he were a little wounded that you had brought up something so sensitive.

He swallowed back the lump in his throat, and you swear that you could see his eyes glass over even in the dim lighting of the cabin. “Because i want to know exactly how much pent up emotion you’re dealing with right now,”

You make a conscious effort to relax your features as you look at him, sighing softly. “Please answer the question…”

Spencer took a second as he deliberated whether or not to answer your question, staring blankly across the cabin so he wouldn’t have to look at you.

"958 days ago."

He said the words coldly, but you could hear the emotion in the way he spoke them. This is the moment when he finally cracked. When he finally realised that hiding the way he felt wasn't a sustainable solution.

And its was also the point when he started to break down. The tears finally started to flow, and he couldn't stop them as much as he tried.

“Spence…” You reach out a hand towards him, but you barely get it up out of your lap before he firmly stops you.

"Don't..."

The words come out of him sharply, but there's something in his tone that saying the opposite. There’s a note of desperation in them. A plea. A cry for help. Because he wants you to touch him, he needs you to. But he's resistant to the idea, he keeps resisting it. “80% of communicable diseases are passed by physical contact. I don’t want to get sick.”

You curl up your hand into a ball as you let it fall back into your lap, pursing your lips as Spencer uses his statistical knowledge to stop you from touching him.

You knew he had an aversion to touch. That he was hyper aware of practically any illness that could possibly be transferred through human contact. You knew that he kept himself at a physical distance from everyone for a reason.

But you also knew that despite all of that he needed physical comfort. Words just weren’t going to cut it.

“It’s okay to need to be comforted…”

"I can get through this myself." He cuts you off harshly, and if you didn’t know that he was obviously mentally struggling his tone would’ve cut you deep.

He's in pain.

He's miserable.

And he's been alone for too long.

He needs emotional intimacy. He needs the affection and comfort of his friends.

He just can't bring himself to actually say that.

“Spencer, let me comfort you. please.” You bite the inside of your cheek as your eyes follow a tear that falls down his face, leaving a water streak in its wake.

“It’s not healthy for you to ball yourself up like this,” You plead desperately with him to let down his emotional barriers and just let you help him.

"There's nothing wrong with me." His words are still cold, but he's wavering now. His shoulders are lowering, his hands loosening from fists to lying flat on either side of him.

He wants you to touch him. He wants the affection that he's been deprived of for so long. But there's still that part in him that's resisting. The voice in his head telling him he can't.

“There doesn’t have to be anything wrong with you for you to need comfort Spencer,” You attempt again to hesitantly reach out a hand towards you, but your advances are again immediately shot down.

"Please.. Don't touch me." His words come out weakly. He's desperately resisting, but the tears are still flowing down his cheeks and you can tell that he’s trying not to completely break down.

“…Are you sure?” You hand retreats back to your side the second he denies you, but you both know he’s not entirely convinced of his own boundaries.

"I'm sure."

He's lying.

The tears were still streaming down his cheeks, and even one quick look at his eyes could tell you that he was desperate to be touched.

He was craving human interaction. But the words were still coming out of his mouth. He wasn't ready yet, not quite yet.

Your hand falls to the gap between the two of you on the sofa, a few inches left between his hand and yours as you suppress a sigh at the clear desperation coating his face despite his denial of your touch.

But you don’t want to overstep the boundary, even if he’s not 100% sure of it himself.

He stares back at you, still resisting the urge to reach out for your hand, even though he's not sure why. He knows that he would feel better if he could grab you and put his head on your shoulder, letting the weight of all of his problems wash away.

But there was still the little voice in his head shouting "Don't. Don't touch them. Don't." And he was struggling. Fighting with every inch of his being for self-control.

As the two of you fall into a slightly tense silence, you make a small movement to breaking Spencer’s self made barrier as you edge your pinky finger towards his own, just barely brushing his skin as you keep your eyes plastered on the opposite wall.

His eyes follow your fingers as they inch their way closer and closer to his. And when - at long last - you make contact, Spencer freezes. Time seems to just stand still as his eyes are transfixed on the single point of contact between your fingers and his.

He doesn't move, he doesn't speak. He just watches.

Over 200 breeds of bacteria are passed through people’s hands for every second they’re in contact.

But he can’t seem to pull himself away.

Because this is the connection he seeks. This is the release he needs. And finally, finally he gets it.

You continue to gently bridge the gap as your pinky finger links itself with Spencer’s, squeezing it with a gentle pressure as you try desperately to stop your eyes from averting back to him.

The second your finger links with his, a dam of emotions breaks. The tears flow faster and he lets out a whimper in the back of his throat.

As soon as you touch him, he leans into the feeling and turns his hand over, pressing his palm and his other fingers against your own, wanting more, needing more of this sensation that he's been starved of for so long.

You respond enthusiastically at his acceptance of the contact, interlacing your fingers together and giving his hand a soft squeeze as you finally bring your gaze back towards his face.

“You’re going to be alright Spencer…”

The moment your hand falls into his is a moment of sweet release. The flood gates have opened, the dam has broken, and there are no barriers between him and the overwhelming emotions he's been forced to bottle up.

And as the dam breaks so too does that small, insistent voice telling him to reject contact. That small voice that tells him he can't have physical affection.

Because that small voice is wrong.

And when you squeeze his hand he brings no hesitation into melting into you completely and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You immediately shift to accommodate Spencer’s weight against your body, breaking the contact of your hands to pull him into a firm but comforting embrace, rubbing soft lines up and down his back as the other held his head against your shoulder.

With tears still flowing down his cheeks and his head buried in your neck, he lets out a soft, contented whimper.

His body relaxes in your embrace, and just lies there in your arms.

He's safe. He's finally safe, and it feels good. He no longer needs to hold himself together. And for the first time in years, he feels loved.

“I’ve got you…” You whisper the affirmation softly into Spencer’s hair as you rest your nose against the crown of his head.

He lets out more soft whimpers, his body relaxing as he leans into the comfort of your embrace, finally allowing himself to just let go.

He takes in big breaths, drinking in your scent as he tries to slow his breathing. He's still crying, but the tears aren't so severe anymore. He's finally started to calm down.

You lean backwards against the seat to support both of your weights comfortably as you focus on soothing Spencer through his emotions, running your fingers gently through his hair and massaging softly at his scalp.

The soft strokes against his head bring a wave of shivers, but they aren't like the shivers that he had felt when he'd been shaking so much.

These are better, these are warm and comforting, and it was like the tension was leaving his body from his head all the way down to his toes.

It feels good, it feels right.

Your touch was healing, and his whole body is relaxing in the gentle massage of your fingers.

“when was the last time you got a full night’s rest Spence..?” The question is soft against his ear as you continue to gently scratch and massage Spencer’s scalp, pulling him slightly towards you with your other arm to secure him safely in your lap.

“I… A while ago…” His words were hushed and sleepy, the exhaustion evident in the slight rasp that was present in his voice. He's been so caught up in the case and the work that he hasn't given a moment's thought to taking care of himself.

He's running on caffeine and willpower. He’s exhausted.

“You should get some sleep…” You carefully adjust the way yo two are sat until you are lying flat on your back with Spencer splayed out on top of you, burying himself in your presence at every point possible.

“I will…”

He's lying.

And based on the fact that his eyes are still squeezed tight against you and the way he's practically buried his body into yours it's clear that even he knows that he's lying.

There's no way that he can sleep right now. Not when he's finally feeling safe. When he's finally found comfort. He plans to bask in it for as long as possible.

“I’ll still be here when you wake up Spencer,” You know that he knows that you know he’s lying. “Get some rest,”

"But-"

He wants to hold this moment, to cling to this moment, trying to delay the passing of time just a little longer.

"I-“

He falters, realising that he's fighting against losing an argument that has already ended. He forces himself to breathe in and out in a slow and deliberate way as he resigns himself to the inevitability of falling asleep.

“…promise?”

He sounds less like a genius and more like a scared child when he says those words. A child who wants to be reassured. Who wants to be told that everything will be okay. That he'll be taken care of when he wakes up from his slumber.

“I promise.”