#i wish i had more to say but genuinely i know nothing

[diabolik-boys]

I have a scenario in mind, let's say when Shu, Reiji, Ayato, Kanato, and Laito are still young children, Beatrix and Cordelia both died untimely deaths which leave the first 5 S bros motherless and no mother figure except for Christa, who doesn't go insane and while caring for Subaru, she suddenly has 5 other boys to take care of so she takes over. Counting her canon personality and the fact that she didn't go insane, I'd like some headcanons of the S bros raised by a sane! Christa Sakamaki.

===== CHRISTA RAISING THE SAKAMAKIS SCENARIO =====

===== CHRISTA RAISING THE SAKAMAKIS SCENARIO: SAKAMAKI =====

"As stressful as it has been, I am grateful I have been able to raise you all. I have learned a lot about each and every one of you. And I see you all as my own. Please never forget that. I have grown to love you all as my own sons."

=============== Shu Sakamaki ===============

"I won't ever forget you stepping up to the plate and being willing to raise all of us as your sons. Neither will I take advantage of it. I know the triplets in particular have always been hard to deal with. But I do genuinely appreciate you, mother."

Shu will probably be one of the first to start growing respect and a good relationship with Christa. While Beatrix favored Shu over Reiji, Shu didn't have a lot of respect for Beatrix unlike Reiji did. Mainly since he was a spoiled child who didn't really respect his authorities around him.

However, since Beatrix will have an untimely death, that will leave Shu probably in a realization that he should have treated his birth mother better, and feels like he might be getting a second chance by having Christa take him in as her own son. He would also have more respect for her taking in all of the older children rather than just solely raising Subaru.

Overall, his relationship with Christa genuinely might be closer than what he had with Beatrix. As a child, he might still retain some of his spoiled behaviors, but so long as Christa continues to help raise him in a more healthy light, Shu could very much become a more balanced and overall have a more healthy-mindset than what he would have with Beatrix.

=============== Reiji Sakamaki ===============

"Since Beatrix is my birth mother, I still feel some sort of loyalties to her. But I will acknowledge your kindness and acceptance of all of us as older siblings to Subaru, and raising us as your own. I respect you, and I wish to thank you. I never really did so within my youth."

Reiji, despite his hatred for his birth mother, also wants to stop at nothing to try and get her approval and attention. After an untimely death, Reiji might be shot mentally for a while. Mainly because now he doesn't know what his purpose could be, and also because he wouldn't respect Christa for taking him in as a child as much as Shu might.

Overtime, he will grow to appreciate Christa more for not giving up on him, and might genuinely not know how to feel with Christa showing him compassion, attention, and overall love that he never felt from Beatrix. His loyalties to trying to impress Beatrix probably would not go away for some time.

However, now that he is older and able to look at things much more logically, Reiji will have a lot of respect for Christa that he would wish to express moreso now than ever before. Especially since Christa raised him with much more attention he desperately craved from Beatrix, Reiji will have a lot of respect and wish to protect his Christa even more, and will eventually see her as his real mother now than he did as a child.

=============== Ayato Sakamaki ===============

"I know I'm a lot t' deal with sometimes... So I appreciate you not givin' up on me. You've never really made me do shit I didn't like doin' like that woman would. I don't really see her as being my mom. I think you are instead."

Ayato wouldn't know how to really process his mother dying untimely. There is a lot of hatred for Cordelia for never letting him have a normal childhood and all of the mistreatment he had to endure from her. However, having Christa suddenly scoop up all of the older Sakamaki boys as her own children will also kind of send Ayato for a loop.

Most likely, he'll be a nightmare to handle. Although Cordelia was also a nightmare within herself, he still would have some sort of desire to impress her and become the best just as she always told him. Although those perceptions and desires might lessen overtime as Christa continues to raise him, the damage from Cordelia was already done even as a young child.

While older, Ayato will have more respect and consideration for Christa. He might have genuinely tried to hurt her mentally and emotionally by lashing out and never claiming her to be his mother. But as he ages, so does his perceptions of her change overtime. He will see Christa more as a motherly figure, more healthy, probably than Cordelia ever would have been.

=============== Kanato Sakamaki ===============

"I don't really know why you decided to take us all in as your own children. At times I wondered if it was just to make Karlheinz happy or to fuel your ego. But I do realize that you have genuine care for all of us in your heart. So I suppose you're not completely worthless like my mother was."

Kanato as a younger child was in place just like his other two brothers just to please his mother. While her untimely death probably did not affect him as much as Ayato or Laito, he still probably not have the best reaction to Christa suddenly stepping up and saying she was now his mother.

He will overall be a very troublesome child, just like Ayato would be, and lash out a lot. Even from a young age, Kanato genuinely will probably try to beat and break down Christa mentally just because he doesn't want her to suddenly have claim over his life just like Cordelia had. Also in fear that he will simply just be used by her.

As he grows older, his tantrums probably will not disappear as they stemmed from the trauma of dealing with Cordelia as a young child. However, he will start to realize that Christa never gave up on him, even though she probably had every right to due to his temper and treatment of her. And he will most likely grow to care for her more overtime.

=============== Laito Sakamaki ===============

"I... don't really know what to say. I see you more as a mother to me than my own mother was. You've never made me do... unspeakable things like that woman did. You took us all in whenever you didn't have to, and I very much admire you for that. You've been patient with me, and understanding. I wasn't used to that."

Laito, despite the horrible relationship with his mother, probably will feel some sort of loss at her suddenly dying. As complicated as that may seem, trauma he endured makes him care about his mother. Even if it is only to serve and fuel Cordelia's ego, which is what she wants out of a relationship like that with Laito. However, although he is affected by her death, it is not to say he is devastated or going to lash out at Christa for taking him in.

He will feel weird and strange not having to have a relationship with Christa as he did with Cordelia. It might even come as a shock to him that once Christa finds out what went on, she would get upset, angry, and disgusted at that woman. Laito would need a lot of healing, and now that Cordelia is gone, he finally can. Especially since Christa takes him in with open arms.

Laito probably will grow one of the best relationships with Christa due to her care and worry over him and what Laito experienced with Cordelia. He might grow protective, and argue a lot with his triplet siblings for lashing out at Christa, whenever they do. And he might be one of the first to see Christa as his real mother.

=============== Subaru Sakamaki ===============

"You've always been so hard on yerself, mom. But don't ya' see you've raised six sons completely on yer own? Ya' didn't have t' take in my brothers, but ya' did. And I really appreciate ya' doin' that. They would've turned out even worse than what they were if they were left motherless."

Subaru would hold a lot of respect for Christa being willing to take in five more sons on top of himself to raise so suddenly. And although he might feel some sort of jealousy rise from time to time, he knows in his heart that it is a good thing she has taken in his siblings as her own sons as well.

He will probably be much less angry, now that Christa is in his life, not neglecting him, and helping raise five more sons on top of himself. They could have genuine days that feel like a big family, and Subaru would have desperately craved that should he not have been able to have it.

However, with this, Subaru is the most protective over Christa. Anytime his brothers like Reiji, Ayato, and Kanato might lash out at Christa or not respect her as their mother, Subaru will fight back twice as hard and make them regret it.

[jetblackknight]

⚔ ────▪ ❛ 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙰𝙽 𝙰𝚁𝙼 . ❜ ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ He repeats, watching the tail he had obscured from view move with a mind of its own, though responsive to its owner. He hums, softly, rather impressed even for his otherwise-stoic nature. A form of an expression crosses his features, almost a softening of sorts, a genuine interest in what she has to say, even if they say no more. Vergil jumps, expecting their tip to hurt, burn, even, only momentarily—but there is nothing there but the gentle warmth of her tail, as alive as it was. A part of him, the drunken part, wishes to reach out and touch it . . . but even Vergil knows better than to do that without explicit permission. He resigns to keeping the take-out box upright.

                         ❛ Defensive manuvers, m-mostly, ❜ He hiccups a little ; though a cambion, he is quite the lightweight compared to his younger twin. The buzz of alcohol remains where it would not have with his brother. Vergil, however, doesn't seem to mind. Automatically, a gentleman at heart, he slips on the other side of the little devil beside him so that his own body is closer to the cobblestone streets ; so hers is closer to the buildings. He has no doubt in the back of his wandering mind that Nian would do more damage to the car than the reverse, but his proper mind, his gentlemanly one, refuses to believe otherwise.                           As they round the corner, and Nian asks their question, he nods, gesturing towards the neon sign of the only civilization on the two intersecting streets—at the end of the one they travel on, a T-shaped intersection awaits, with 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝑴𝒂𝒚 𝑪𝒓𝒚 smack dab in the center of the street ; its tall, warehouse-esque structure stands between a garage and either a warehouse or an apartment building. Vergil isn't sure which it is—the windows seem apartment-like, but the large bay doors say otherwise. And he has never seen a soul enter or leave. Nor with the garage. On the side closest to the apartment building there is a small gap, just large enough for a person of Vergil's stature to fit through without difficulty ; an alleyway. ❛ The design and location is my brother's choice. He prefers to the solitude. . . though I share the sentiment. ❜                           He walks with a little more pace, reaching the door in several long strides with no care for opposing traffic ; there isn't any. Far down the street to the left is a car with its headlights on, and beyond that a few slightly busier streets, but otherwise there is nothing. He pushes open the double doors, sets the take-out box on the table to his left, and turns to hold one door open with an outstretched arm and the other with his buttocks, leaving her plenty of room to duck their head underneath it and into the place. For the moment, its dark inside, but Vergil presumes that won't be an issue.                          ❛ Apologies for the mess—cleaning after Dante is . . . a chore that one must imagine Sisyphus enjoying. Shall I open a bottle of wine, or would you prefer something harder ? There is plenty of alcohol here. ❜

          𝒂   𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓   𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑   𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔   𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎   out of the warm air of the bar and the comfortable background chatter,   outward into the later,   quieter chill of redgrave.   not prone to trip,   but with a confidence more bouncy than would be usual even for them,   a new,   indolent spring to nian's step.   vergil’s gesture,   wisely placed as it may be,   registers barely if at all;   an unbothered look is all they spare toward his apology,   dismissing it as some hangup of his over the local crowd or the nominal correct procedures of an evening out drinking.

          sated for hunger and choosy thirst and new faces,   nian sorts this evening under the counter for good fun,   thoughts lenient and sloppy enough to allow it decently far into the field of useful investigation as well  ⸻   their definition for it has never been at odds with multitasking,   anyhow,   and a friendly demon,   or one willing to act as such,   is a road half traveled in understanding demons as a whole.   there are some things several thousand years will not suffice to teach,   and if the way human mingles with demonic is one,   nian would not claim themself surprised.

          the light momentum of inebriety elects at random,   heedless,   to head right,   only to be set straight by their vastly remaining reason,   following vergil to the left and onward into the unknown streets.   nian doesn’t bother to take note of each turn,   as they hadn’t since noting the name of the city.   a sense of direction,   for one,   is felt and not learned,   and should take the toll of aimless turns and earned savvy,   like a friend.

          ‘   you mean this?   's like an arm to me.   ’   the aforementioned vouches for itself with a smooth,   deliberate wave.   ‘   what wouldja even have one for if you can’t⸻   ’   on cue,   a jab to his side,   the flaming end of the tail phasing through his coat with no ignition.   ‘   hehehe.   they never expect it.   you should,   heh,   you should show me your other form sometime…   maybe we kinda look alike.   ’   for that matter,   when did they themself last transform…?   this body is easy to inhabit,   easy to use,   a habit too comfortable to change,   especially when focus is in lack.

          rounding the next corner there blurs into view a bright,   humming shade of red.   proximity sharpens it into three words,   devil may cry.   surely enough the intended destination,   taking as guide vergil’s stride and one of the names nian recalls from their conversation.

          ‘   that the place?   you guys’ place?   ’   over a dopey grin,   lighthearted scrutiny.   ‘   pretty lowkey.   i like the sign.   ’

[bunnywan]

idk if u take prompts but even if u don’t, i hope you’d at least appreciate hearing this, because you’ve written some of my favourite obikin fics and i need to say it to someone bc i’m never gonna be able to write obikin half as well as i think the ship necessitates:

obi-wan and anakin run into a man wearing a shirt that says some witty pun about how dungeon masters make the rules (or a tusk love shirt or smth), and obi-wan overhears anakin’s unusually enthusiastic conversation with him, hearing anakin talk about how he sneaks out every zhellday he can to play, enjoys when his players carry rope, how he likes to play out emotional scenes, how it’s really fun when a player uses the rules against him, how he as a dungeon master loves to create pain and suffering for his players, before clarifying the good kind of pain and suffering. how important it is to set boundaries and expectations beforehand. maybe they do this in huttese so obi-wan only catches words he knows? and obi-wan being both a normie who hasn’t even seen the lord movies and the sluttiest whore in the order (whose knowledge of huttese extends to swears anakin has taught him and sex terms others have taught him), obviously takes this to mean that anakin goes weekly to a sex dungeon to control kinky group sex, and so now must agonize over his padawan having regular kinky group sex, especially as anakin has seemed much more relaxed these days, especially after zhelldays, which he does usually seemed excited for

anakin, however, is oblivious to the misconception plaguing his master, as he is a nerd who is meeting with a weekly group to dm a dungeons and dragons campaign, and hasn’t told obi wan because he knows that there is literally nothing more boring than listening to someone talk about a dnd campaign you’re not part of

(obi-wan eventually learns the epic romance between anakin and padme is just between padmes character and an npc, and the holo calls were just a videocall of their session, and the reference to spreading was actually just padmes campaign spreadsheet. i actually have no idea how this resolves but the miscommunication is hilarious in my head)

again, you don’t have to do anything if u don’t want to, but i had a pressing need to type it out and see if u had any Thoughts. have a nice day!

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

James watched Egon knock his king over, signaling his defeat. It was not just the thrill of victory but the joy of genuine companionship. He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands as a satisfied smile graced his lips. “Thank you, Doctor Spengler. It has been centuries since anyone has played with me,” he admitted, his voice carrying a warmth rarely heard. “I had almost forgotten the thrill of a well-fought match.” He inclined his head slightly. “I would be honored to accept a rematch in the future, Doctor.”

The thought of another match, another conversation, another moment of this strange new connection was comforting. For the first time since his death, James felt… alive. But as Egon spoke of the sword and the freedom it granted him, a knot formed in his chest. Freedom. After all this time, he was free.

The realization should have been exhilarating, but instead, it left a hollow sort of dread in it's wake. He had spent centuries here. The ship, the sea—these were all he had known. The world beyond these walls had changed, evolved into something entirely unfamiliar.

His gaze drifted to the sword's display case. Where would he go? What would he do? He’d been bound to this ship for so long that the world outside felt like a distant dream—a place that had moved on without him. It was terrifying.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stand tall. “I suppose I could assist in convincing Harrington,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. “Surely, if they knew the sword were… cursed,”—his lips curled into an amused smirk—“they’d be more than happy to part with it. Perhaps your friend’s silver tongue can even secure the check, should he spin the tale properly.”

But as he said it, the reality sank in. He was no longer tethered to the ship. No longer confined to the walls of the only place he understood. The world outside was foreign and daunting. The sails, the wood, the sea—all of it was his home. His prison, but his home nonetheless.

He looked at Egon, his eyes softening. “You say I’m free. Free to go anywhere I wish.” His fingers tightened around the back of the chair, grounding him. “But I confess… I don’t know where to go.” His voice wavered, vulnerability creeping in. “I know nothing of this world. It has moved on without me. I’ve been… here… for centuries. This ship is all I know.”

The admission tasted bitter on his tongue. James Norrington, once a man of power and authority, reduced to a lost soul. It was humbling.

He cleared his throat, his eyes flicking to Egon’s. “I suppose… if you don’t mind the company… I could accompany you to your headquarters,” he said, a hint of hope in his voice. “You mentioned you already have one ghost residing there. I imagine one more won’t cause too much trouble.”

“I …may need a guide, Doctor. Someone to show me this strange new world.”

@ashortdropandasuddenstop | Pieces on a chessboard

When Egon had left the nautical museum the night before, Ray had been waiting for him at Ecto-1. He had taken the time to update his friend on what had happened in the brig of the ship, and Ray had told him that he would look into ways to help the apparition. He had originally insisted on coming with him the following day, but Egon had refused. None of them had liked the idea of him returning alone to a haunt. But he was resolute, telling them to trust his judgement. The museum had closed an hour before he'd arrived. He'd had to pull a few strings with the staff to allow him in without the Harrington's knowledge. They were almost too happy to comply and the doctor had the feeling that Harrington may not have been that well liked.

With his briefcase in hand, he walked up the gang plank of the ship and paused. He didn't want to have to go back down to the brig, but he didn't know if it would be presumptuous to walk right in to the captain's quarters. He didn't have his PKE meter with him so he wasn't sure where the officer would be. After a moment's deliberation, he knock on the door and let himself in.

No one was in sight and he scouted the area out. Spotting the tea table near the harbor-facing window, he opened his briefcase and set up the chess set he had brought with him. He sat down on the side of the black pieces and waited, watching out of the window at the water. He didn't know how long he would be sitting by himself, but he was patient. He would wait as long as the ghost needed.

[vvienne]

I literally woke up in the middle of the night like God will dark rise is so fucking screwed. The line that’s like. “Everyone wanted to kill the Dark King.” What’s the part where he looks at Violet helplessly, haunted, almost pleading for mercy? But of course he reveals nothing of substance to anyone. Elizabeth is too young to understand but the reader knows what “Her relationship with that boy was…unnatural” can mean. Tying him to bedposts? Failing to strangle him? What else? Never not even once seeing beyond a mythological identity Will himself didn’t know he had? What did he think was the reason? That he was just intrinsically hateful? Of course he says nothing. Of course Violet can’t trust him- he’s given her nothing as painfully real as what she’s given him. So he gives her the sword hoping at least he can die at the hands of someone he loved, but even that doesn’t work out - she gives the sword to a Visander still furious at SARCEAN. The pattern continues; no one looks at Will, who vomits when he realizes what’s happened to James, Will who is much of a liar and killer and sneak as Elizabeth accuses but nonetheless wants to be different. Even when he doesn’t remember his own past. There’s no way out for him that doesn’t hurt. Hope this obsession passes soon given the one and a half years of waiting required for book 3

[gingermintpepper]

Absolutely the funniest thing about my current corner of tumblr is that pretty much everyone I've recently followed for Apollo-Appreciating Purposes are either genuinely Hellenist or just rather very into Rick Riordan's Trials of Apollo series which is wild because I know a net zero about both of those things.

[yappacadaver]

im still so tired mang like fuck. fuckkkk

[tautozhone]

idk how to start this so this post is ab individual action, trying to motivate positive change in the world, etc etc

a lot of growing up in the US for me makes things feel more scary than they are. like it’s actually not that difficult to go out of your way to get a bottle of water or iced cup of water from some random drive through if you think you should do it. either fast food conglomerate or local actually, it’ll usually be cheaper than 5 dollars to get drinkable water. i try to have 5-10 dollars i can justify spending on water, and asking for change, because sometimes when i’m out driving i need to go grab water.

i do not do this for me as much as i try to do it specifically when i see someone who’s most likely homeless on a street corner. i’m sure one day i might do this and they might not be there when i come back, but what have i lost really? a bit of time and a bit of money that would’ve meant more to them, that i can hold onto until i see them next.

the pressure that a lot of people feel when they think “what can i do” comes from this grand narrative that the average citizen can singlehandedly fix the housing crisis. rich people? maybe. nonprofits? not in a day, not all one person still. what can i do is a question i ask a lot. what can i do, not just because it feels bad to move along like nothings wrong with the world, but what can i do that will do anything. what can i do that makes even the smallest change.

i feel like it took me too long to figure out a personal method to what i consider individual action. it’s taking time to get to my own financial stability to be able to do more. but for now it’s as simple as water and cash. not water and food, but water and cash.

individual action means a lot in small steps, go get a bottle of water bare minimum and the price of a meal if you can and then just give it to them. if it wasn’t such a miserably hot place where i live i would keep a pack of water in my car, which i still want to do for the sake of having immediate access to water to give someone who might need it- hot or cold sometimes won’t matter. but when it’s hot out, get cold water, if it’s cold out, a warm tea will hydrate more than coffee will as long as it’s not super caffeinated.

[limerental]

but yeah when starting ep5 I did leap up and exclaim to my perplexed chihuahua THEY KEPT THE FRAMING DEVICE they did the framing device! Twn did a framing device! the whole construction of ep5, though I have some questions about the content, was SO pleasing to me in a narrative stylistic sense. the way we are delivered different pieces of information slowly in new contexts and nothing is linear or obvious immediately is genuinely so good

[daz4i]

dude i wish i could sleep forever

[bugdogg]

if i ever seem brave for some of the stuff i admit on here, just know its cause idk how to keep shit to myself. i cower at the thought of judgement and then proceed to expose my whole ass to tumblr anyway, because i dont have a working filter

[arolesbianism]

In the future I believe I shall be calling looped Chou Piéride even tho they'd still go by Chou for clarities sake 👍

[ralaferin]

i wasted so much fucking time being hateful and bitter and mean and just generally a shithead to people that I cared about deeply but took for granted. looking back on anything with nostalgia just breaks my heart if I linger too much. there were so many opportunities to be present and to make better connections and i wasted them and now look at where i am

[waywardsalt]

i feel like theres something funny in how while i vehemently hate totk, i genuinely loved and enjoyed the depths, which are considered one of the worst parts of the game

[jackass-jones]

Derby is for colts and fillies alike so long as they’re 3 year old thoroughbreds. 3 fillies have won the derby, though the race is historically dominated by colts due to speed qualifications. The oaks race is for fillies yes, but the derby is not just for colts like your post implies. Please stop trying to spread false information. Yes people who attend derby are mostly rich white folk but behind the scenes are poc workers and people who genuinely have a love for horses and the sport alike

That feels a bit better to know. For some reason idk people around here just label one race as the girl one and the other as the boy one and it’s like why are you being misogynistic about horses. So it’s nice its not like that in reality but now it’s like weird cuz whyyyy have people around me just been spreading horse misogyny my whole life 🤔

And yeah I didn’t intend to spread misinformation but hm I definitely don’t know derby lore very well I just know some fan culture that I’ve grown up around so that’s definitely not gonna give me a very clear picture so idk what I was thinking. I’m mostly just fed up with some of the ways people have treated the derby in my area and really just fed up with family rn so I was being bitter but I shouldn’t have made any like. Statements about the actual derby when I don’t really know what I’m talking about at all and also most things in Kentucky culture and history have a really interesting background and there’s always gonna be passionate people and poc involved that don’t really get shown on the surface cuz. Racism. I do have my big grudges against these rich people from out of state or from the rich neighborhoods of Louisville who treat the derby like some big spectacle but then scoff at the rest of the state and clutch their pearls in fear when they have to park in a closed off parking lot where they gotta pay a black man for parking and then walk through neighborhoods they deem filthy just to get to the derby but eh fuck them. Let’s be here for horses and kentucky history and culture and just celebrate the amazing shit that we have going on

[stardust-thief]

look after you

an: this my first x reader fic LMAOO, i needed to write smth and this spencer was on my brain :// i am in the middle of a rly long donna fic but i cba this was much easier. also i absolutley have not proof read this sorry

synopsis: you get hurt while hunting down an unsub, after some reluctance (and kind words from papa rossi) you let spencer take care of you, 1.7k words

cw: descriptions of violence, panic attack, spencer swears and can drive (the most un-canon thing abt him) umm italians..., the rest is just fluffy, hurt/comfort, x reader but no y/n

masterlist

The unsub had his gun pointed at you, the cold press of the barrel against flesh. He was ranting and raving about needing to be seen and understood, having spent his childhood in emotional neglect. Teachers and parents failed him at every turn, it’s not his fault that this happened but he can fix it if he just drops the gun. Rossi tried to tell him this over and over, but he only got more angry, pushing the gun in harder and harder. 

If you were to open your eyes, you would’ve seen JJ and Luke there too, guns trained on the unsub. Their eyes glancing between you, the unsub, and the gun. But you didn’t. Not until the bang went off and you could breathe again. 

The flashing lights of the ambulance do nothing to dissuade the pressing headache you feel coming on, the movement of people helps even less. You watch as the EMT’s cart the unsub away on a gurney, sheet covering him. 

“You okay, kid?” Rossi asks from beside you, he had been hovering ever since the ambulance arrived. 

“I’m fine, just need a good night's rest. I’ll be good as new.” You hummed half-heartedly. 

David Rossi always knew when someone was lying to him, part of that talent comes from his job as a profiler, but it’s mostly because of some ancient Italian magic. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that to me. Look, Hotch is on his way with Reid and Emily. They’re gonna be taking some witness statements, but I imagine Boy Wonder will be a little distracted. I want you to let him take care of you, ok? You’ve been through hell tonight kid, let him worry.”

Italians never lie, although you wish they did. Spencer had very obviously caught feelings for you, everyone on the team could see it. Unfortunately, so could you. Spencer Reid was one of the kindest, most genuine people you had ever met, always putting other people's needs before his own. A voice in your head kept telling you that there is nothing you have done to deserve someone like him doting all over you? You had only brought trouble to the people who loved you. Eventually you learned that it was better to just keep everyone at a distance; if you don’t let them in, they can’t get hurt. Which worked well, up until Spencer.

He had such a wormy way of getting into your brain at the worst times; whether it was when you were alone in your kitchen, or at slightly dangerous, very inappropriate times on a case. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and his stupidly cute (and sometimes ill-timed) facts. Some part of you wanted to let him in, in the end the stubborn side always took over. 

Before long, you heard the worried cries of Spencer trying to find you in the chaos. Rossi called his name and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Remember, you deserve to be looked after too.” and left to find Hotch.

“Oh my god, are you okay? We tried to get here as soon as we could, but they managed to take down the unsub right? What happened, did he hurt you? How did you get so close? Talk to me are-” Oh, how he rambles. 

“Spencer, I’m fine. I just need to… rest, you know. He didn’t hurt me that bad, just a sprained wrist, couple bruises. Could’ve been worse.”

He spluttered, “Could’ve- you know, that doesn’t make this any better, I was so worried about you. He had a fucking gun to your head, I was going insane thinking about what could’ve happened. What did the EMT say about your wrist?”

“Just to rest it, and use an ice pack if it starts to swell or hurt.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, he was so worried about you. It made butterflies dance in your belly, but there was a twinge of guilt there too. He was so busy, he worked so hard and then went home to look after his mom. He had too much on his plate, how could you add more to it? “Spence, I’m really sorry about worrying you. I should be fine to leave now, so I’ll just head home and sleep it off. Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the ambulance, eyes focused downwards, restless fingers fidgeting with the already frayed bandage.

“No- wait what are you talking about? You’re gonna drive yourself home in this condition? I can’t let you do that, even thinking about it makes me feel sick.” He lowered his head to yours and spoke softer this time, “Please let me take you home. I don’t have to stay, I just want to make sure you’re ok, ok?”

Fuck that voice did things to you. Leaning from side to side, you thought about what Rossi had said earlier. Maybe, it was ok to let someone in? It would be cruel to let him suffer more, not knowing if you were ok or somehow got in a car crash with 5 other vehicles on your way home. Just this once, you think.

Looking up into his soft eyes, you give a small nod. His lips immediately turned up into a smile, his hand comes up to cup your head, fingers stroking your cheek. It felt… nice. His thumb was calloused but he still moisturised enough for it to feel smooth, and he smelled like lemongrass and ginger. His hand fell to the small of your back as he guided you to his car. Ever the gentlemen, he opened your door and softly placed his hand over your head as you got in. Manoeuvring himself into the driver's side, he pulled out his phone and typed something, then quickly stuffed it away into a pocket and turned on the engine.

The sky was dark when you woke up. The unsub had a gun to your head at dusk, and Spencer was walking into your apartment when the moon was out. He took off his shoes and the door, and walked into your living room.

“I’ve never been here before,” he mused. “I like it.”

He looked at ease wandering around your apartment, his shoulders had relaxed and he let out soft musings as he perused your photo collections.

“Oh Spencer, not that one, it’s embarrassing!” You tried (with not a lot of effort) to pull him away from the frame.

“No this is cute, was this when you were at University?” He asked, wrapping an arm around you.

Oh my god. “Yeah, um- those were some of my friends at the time. I try and keep in touch but, you know.”

He hummed, pulling you closer into him. Finally content, he looked down at you. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s ok,” you shrugged, “just a little tender now.”

“Where’s your kitchen, I can get some ice.”

“Spence-” you wanted to tell him no, to go home and look after himself. But his body was so warm, having him so close to you melted your brain, leaving you unable to think of any good reason as to why he should leave. “It’s the first door on the right.”

His grip tightened for a moment before he swiftly navigated you to the sofa, and turned to leave for the kitchen. The cold of the apartment rushed to get you as soon as he unraveled his arms. You hadn’t been alone all day since the unsubs attack, it somehow felt more claustrophobic. His hand on your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. The way he grabbed your arm, contorting it so he could throw you to the ground. The gun, pressed into your forehead. The knowledge that the only thing between you being alive, and you being in a ditch, was a madman's finger on the trigger. Reality faded as each memory pressed further and further into your mind. You weren’t in your apartment anymore, you could feel the cold concrete beneath your hands. The thick air in your lungs, Rossi and the unsub shouting.

A hand on your knee, a soft voice bringing you back. There was no unsub, no gun to your head. You were alive. You were alive and Spencer was in your apartment, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face.

“You with me?” His voice was so soft, you couldn’t recall ever hearing Spencer raise his voice in anger. He was so gentle when he touched you. 

The floodgates burst, choked sobs made their way past your lips. Your shoulder shook as you cried, pressing yourself into Spencer’s arms. “Oh honey,” He murmured, pressing his lips into your head, softly rocking you back and forth as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was too much. You could have died today. Very nearly did. You weren’t ready to die, not yet at least.

As your cries softened into hiccups, you pushed yourself back from Spencer. “I’m sorry, that was so disgusting. It just all- I don’t know.”

 “Hey, you don’t ever have to apologise to me ok? What you went through was really scary, I’d honestly be more shocked if you didn’t cry.” His hand moved to draw soothing shapes along your back as you leaned back into him. “You want to watch something to calm down? I brought you some water and an ice pack for your wrist.”

He would be the death of you. You nod and push yourself back into the sofa, moving your wrist to rest in your lap. Spencer gently places the ice pack across your wrist and grips the tips of your fingers. He leans forward to push your cup of water towards you and grabs the TV remote, then turns and leans back so your side is pressed into his front. Truthfully, Spencer didn’t seem like the type to watch cable TV but he navigated the menu with somewhat ease. 

“Look at what’s on! It’s your favourite isn’t it, you want me to put it on.” He said as he nudged your shoulder.

He remembered your favourite film, of course he would remember it he has an eidetic memory. You hummed a yes as you relaxed your body further into his, finally content. Maybe Rossi was right, having Spencer close really wasn’t so bad after all.