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bidonica · 2 years

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Are jaime and Cersei both the golden child? And Tyrion the scapegoat. Or is jaime the golden child, Tyrion the scape goat and Cersei the lost child? As in the roles of children with a narcissist

Ok but: is Tywin a narcissist? I don’t think the definition applies to him. Granted, I’m not a psychiatrist (and most sources regarding narcissistic parents available online seem to be anecdotal or from dubious pop psychology sites), so my assessment is as valid as anyone else’s, but I don’t think that’s Tywin’s specific deal. He’s abusive and emotionally withdrawn, but his self importance is Lannister self importance (and by extension, all the highborn characters have a bit of that; it’s literally baked in the social system, that some people are better by others *by birth*), he doesn’t love bomb, doesn’t play the victim when things don’t go his way, he’s ambitious but in a realistic way, not in a delusions of grandeur way.

Now, it’s inevitable that a contemporary author like Martin has assimilated some pop psychology along the way, and generally speaking, I believe we all understand the psychological impact of familial relationships differently than people from the pre modern era asoiaf mostly draws from. Parents loving or not loving their children, the things those children do to gain that love and approval, is kind of a big theme in asoiaf; and it’s because us 20th and 21st century people have assimilated the notion that the relationship with your family is crucial for your development as a person, but Martin is also good at writing characters that can’t really conceptualize that in-universe. They feel the same aches that they would in a contemporary setting, but they mostly trace them back to things like being unable to fulfill their duty within the family (whatever that duty is supposed to be), or feeling robbed of their birthright, etc. And then there’s things they simply don’t expect to happen, like most highborn people wouldn’t feel deprived of love and attention for having spent more time with wetnurses and septas and maesters as children than they did with their own parents (but they probably would now, and that’s why we have so many seasons of The Crown).

For example, take this quote from the wikipedia page for Narcissistic Parent: “narcissistic parents may speak of "carrying the torch", maintaining the family image, or making the mother or father proud”. This is something that Tywin does, and he is… right? Because in the world they live in, this stuff matters. He takes it to extremes, because he is an asshole, but while one could argue that all narcissists are assholes, not all assholes are narcissists.

But even assuming we could apply the golden child vs scapegoat roles to the Lannister children… I don’t think any of them fit so neatly into those boxes. Even Jaime and Cersei, who live most of their life getting Tywin’s apparent approval (especially in comparison to Tyrion) seem to perceive Tywin as more like a distant god that needs to be appeased rather than as someone they get to be an extension of. Tyrion is definitely a scapegoat in the grand scheme of things, but it’s not out of nowhere - his birth coincided with the death of Joanna, a stabilizing force in the family, and by most of the accounts we get genuinely loved by Tywin (not that that stopped him from having a secret passage to a brothel built for him. Anyway); he’s also disabled in a society that sees outward deformity as a sign of moral failure. But Tyrion is also a Lannister, which in Tywin’s worldview (which is Westeros’ worldview amped to 11) still puts him a step above most people in spite of the personal disdain he has for him, so he also bestows some pretty big responsibility on Tyrion such as subbing for him as Hand or being master of coin. I guess you can squeeze these dynamics into the “a narcissist and his children” boxes, but in my opinion that would require overlooking quite a bit of nuance in these characters’ personalities and history, as well as the cultural context Martin has placed them in.

#asoiaf meta #tywin lannister #tyrion lannister #cersei lannister #jaime lannister #tangential but i have this pet theory that the borgias contemporaries slandered them by saying alexander vi had incestuos relations with #lucrezia because they just weren’t used to seeing a father doting on his daughter and actually spending time with her #like they had a level of interaction that would probably look normal and even healthy to modern eyes #if you disregard the parts like marrying her off at 12 #but those 15th century nobles would be like WHY would he do that?? he’s sleeping with her there’s no other plausible explanation. checkmate

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righteousruin · 2 years

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I genuinely love and hate that Bane went through this intensely transformative arc in Gotham Knights with meeting his father thanks to Dr. Thompkins and Bruce, and having his life saved by Batman, and it’s meaningful to the point where he’s like ‘I’m not Bane anymore actually’, and then we don’t see him again until two random panels in infinite crisis in which he is just. Out here. Fighting heroes. Zero context between points A and B, go girl give us nothing

#and then they used that one panel of him wrecking a D-Lister for a WHOLE PLOT in checkmate I yell #I don't know what this is but he just showed up and went rawr and then they were like 'bad guy no badding' and he was like 'okay'#just some rando judo guy outfighting bane while he's on venom i can't i cAN'T #like that time magneto was a one-off villain in spider-man and they were like 'yep peter won that fight no contest' aklsdj #i admit i do love this storyline of 'you killed my father AND you rigged an election! those are equally villainous things!'#it's extra funny if you know bane doesn't have to rig anything he quite literally owns the country of santa prisca #It was his price for working for Lex Luthor in Shadow of the Bat -- it's how Batman got him to leave without confrontation #He was like 'okay but when I'm finished with Luthor he's gonna pull this so you can leave now and cash in or you can wait to fight me'#and bane was like 'lmao good point bestie i'm outtie'#sometimes loving comic book villains means knowing that some random title is gonna borrow them to try and make their title character cool #and that's okay #the one that did it best was JSA they wrote bane REALLY well for his little two-issue guest spot #like it felt really relevant to his character he was characterized really well his defeat made sense it was nicely done #ooc #silly hours #Editors Note || Analysis

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robocops-a-christ-allegory · 10 months

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Checkmate fathers day I think everyone had the same idea to get Harry a “worlds greatest dad” mug as a joke (they all know his ex-wife is trying to take custody because he kept missing visitation days with his kids because he told everyone who works for Checkmate). Blackthorn is 10 times worse then usual and keeps insisting shes fine while also continuously checking her dads facebook. Somebody who Did Not Know greeted Peacemaker with a “happy fathers day!” and he threw them out a window. Thanks

#Yeah Im pretending Checkmate didnt happen in the 80s just this once because I couldnt think of another joke for Blackthorn.#Anyway I somehow didnt actually know it was fathers day.#Vigilante fathers day: Dorian is screaming at his dads grave

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chronomally · 2 years

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Cannot stop thinking about how their dad literally told Feng Ju to be careful of underestimating his enemies right before they rode out to try and catch Hei Fengxi in a lie and were instead treated to this masterclass in method acting

#please feel free to ignore this #I'm watching Who Rules the World #They were so excited to beat his ass and instead Hei Fengxi moved his father to tears with a beautiful display of filial piety #While you were celebrating your checkers win this man had already checkmated you 7 times in 4D chess

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cerisereids · 25 days

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𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝗻𝗻𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹- 𝘀.𝗿.

pairing- dad!spencer reid x mom!reader

summary- spencer reid is the best girl dad on the planet

warnings- hurt/comfort and fluff, post s15!spencer- he is no longer with the bau but there are references to his time there, lowkey some angst bc apparently i can’t write anything for spencer without him being sad, spencer’s daddy issues, a lil makin out/grinding, brief discussion of sex/baby making

a/n- divider from @real-afterglow! happy easter to everyone who celebrates! here��s a cute little thing about girl dad!spencer :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

spencer reid’s bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed together. usually, this look of concentration was reserved for intense cases, ones spent pouring over complex documents into late hours of the night. tonight, however, he’s traded serial killers for pastel eggs, taunting him from the kitchen table. spencer’s engaging in an intense staring contest with the plastic eggs as he pores over the array of candy and decorations littering the rest of the table.

his head snaps up as he hears your feet pattering down the steps, knowing you’re about to catch him in the midst of a battle between him and your daughter’s easter goodies. you take the eggs’ place as the object of his visual affection when you appear in the kitchen, staring back at him in silence. his puppy dog eyes plead into yours. he knows you know what he’s trying to say, i’m trying, i want this to be perfect. he also knows you won’t let him destroy himself to make you and your baby girl happy, even when he wants to.

“she’s only two, you know. she’s not going to care if the right piece of candy is in the right egg. she’s just happy to be with us,” you speak to his anxieties like you can read his mind.

it’s one of the many things he loves about you, his sweet wife. the way you just know what his brain is fighting against, and can speak to it. your sweet words don’t appease his guilt this time, though, and you both know it. he plows ten fingers through his mop of hair before sliding his glasses onto his forehead.

“i know,” he breathes, and you both know he has more to say.

“but it’s not enough,” you finish for him.

“it’s not enough,” he repeats, defeated.

“well, then let me help you,” you declare, pulling a chair up next to him.

“no, no,” he insists, shaking his head, “you just put her to bed. you must be exhausted, rest.”

“we’re both exhausted, spence. just because i was the one to put her to bed tonight doesn’t mean i’m the only one doing the parenting around here,” he knows you’re trying to reassure him, but he flinches anyway. his ability to be a father has been a sore subject since you first became pregnant almost three years ago.

“plus, we both know i won’t be able to rest while you’re over here, very clearly in need of a helping hand,” you glare at him, checkmate. he relents at that, and allows you to wrap yourself into him. your arms around his bicep, your head on his shoulder, his chin atop your temple. slowly, he allows vulnerability to pierce through the tension between you two.

“what do we got here, handsome?” you croon, and he’s never been so certain that he doesn’t deserve you, that you’re too good for him. there’s not much he can do about that now but kiss you on the forehead and hope his lips convey a decade of love and devotion in one small kiss.

“i just want it to be perfect,” he croaks, eyes glossing over. “i wasn’t here last time. i don’t think i’ll ever not feel guilty about it.”

“i understand, spence. i’d feel bad, too, but that doesn’t mean you’re not there for her, that you don’t love her. because you do. and you show her, and me, everyday, don’t forget that,” you finish your mini speech with a firm kiss on the lips.

a year ago from this very moment, he was pulled away on a case. the call came at 11 pm, the night before your daughter’s first easter. to say he was devastated would be an understatement. he put on a brave face that morning over facetime, watching the chubby hands of one little eloise reid tear through the plastic easter grass hiding the candy in her basket.

he was brave until the time came to hit the hang up button. with the blankness that filled his screen and his hotel room, he broke. he was of no use on the case, and the team knew it, too. he left the bau shortly after that. he didn’t want to feel that way ever again, and he knew if he stayed there, he would. that time it was only one holiday, sure, but what about when she ends up having a dance recital? or graduates? he couldn’t risk it, he knew his family took the biggest priority.

between that and his own father’s absence in his childhood, he was determined to make this easter absolutely perfect for your daughter, no matter if he fell dead asleep on your kitchen table trying.

the staticky rustling of plastic basket grass tears spencer away from his loud, busy brain, and his eyes soften as they fixate on you. helping him. you’re nestling a little stuffed bunny atop the plastic frills of the basket and spencer watches in awe, wondering why he didn’t think to do that first.

he knows the answer. it’s because it’s you. you’re the best mom, and he loves catching those little moments where you prove that to him. it doesn’t take much, like the way you’re slipping $1 bills into each plastic egg, while also making sure you put a piece of candy there as well. it’s a small gesture, maybe, one that doesn’t take much deep thinking, but he knows that it comes from the deepest love your great beautiful heart can muster.

and of course he loves your daughter too, so, so much, but he struggles to show it the way you do. his lack of a paternal presence in his childhood sometimes leaves him feeling empty handed in his journey of fatherhood. you never let him feel this way for long, though. again, just like now, with the way you immediately jumped in to help him. even after he said no, even if you’re absolutely exhausted. you do it for him, because it’s him. because you love him. he still can’t believe it some days.

he smiles, so full of love for his two girls and lets his gaze linger as you run into the living room. you return yielding the carrots and cookies the three of you left for the easter bunny earlier.

“up for a little midnight snack?” you tease, waving the carrots in one hand and the cookies in another before you sit.

“not my preferred treat but i’m not going to say no to one of your sugar cookies,” he jokes, pulling you to the edge of your chair by the small of your back.

he places a kiss on your lips. an intense one, one that conveys every thought blundering through his mind the 10 minutes you’ve been downstairs. how much he loves you, specifically.

he feels you chuckle against him and can’t help but deepen the kiss, pulling you ever closer so his leg comes between yours, your core pressing warmly against his knee. he hears you whimper, a sound he’ll cherish forever, before you rub against him gently and pull away.

“not tonight,” you peer at him over your glasses, a faux concern dancing through your gaze, “if we do you’ll end up giving me another baby. we both know we’re not ready for that yet.”

it’s his turn now to hide his face in the crook of your neck, placing gentle kisses along your neck and jaw. you dedicate the rest of your night to making this holiday special for your little girl.

after nibbling on the carrots and cookies, you place them back on the plate with a thank you note, signed E.B. he raises a brow as he sees you pad over to your cupboard, pulling out your bin of flour. your cheeky smile invokes butterflies, and he’s breathless. it’s late, you’re in sweats, your hair is a mess, and you’re currently half-bent, sifting flour over a stencil of a bunny foot, and he’s never been more in love with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

spender hears rustling and sweet talk echoing down your spiral staircase. baby eloise’s sweet morning rasp, her high pitched baby voice asking mama if the easter bunny came. he hears you coo at her, telling her she has to wait and see, followed by kissing noises and baby giggles. his heart grows three sizes.

when he sees you appear in the stairway through the lens of his phone, he quickly tears his gaze away from the screen to see the real thing. his girls, eyes tired and hair messy, float down the steps, light from the back window illuminating them, like his own personal angels.

“hi girls!” he lilts, gentle as to not startle his baby girl.

her big brown eyes that she got from dad bore into his, and he can feel himself welling up at her sweetness. sap.

“hi sweet eloise,” he bends down for a kiss from both his angels as you set her at the bottom of the steps, “i think someone special came,” he coos, stealing some more kisses from the baby’s soft chubby cheeks.

she nestles into spencer’s chest, a tiny little thumb settled gently on her lips, and his heart bleeds. he loves her so much.

“i think the easter bunny came!” he croons, hugging her tight and close, “do you wanna see what he got you?” he feels her head nod against him and he hands you his phone. the three of you walk into the living room and spencer sets her down, letting her choose where to go first.

she runs right to the fireplace, where the eaten treats and thank you note lay, her eyes wide.

“wow!” he hears you gasp, and he pulls you to him so you can walk to her together, “i think he ate our treats!”

eloise turns to you two and giggles, clapping her chubby little hands. you two can’t help but pull her in, attacking her with kisses before letting her go on to her other surprises.

she squeals at the bunny feet, repeating, “bunny! bunny!” she gets presents too, of course, spoiled little thing that she is.

you’re better than spencer at shopping for the girly things she loves, so he was an observer shopping for the special things she’s getting this morning.

you nailed it, too. you got her pink, purple, and blue ruffle swimsuits for the summer, and he’s already dying inside imagining how cute it will be. she immediately opens the tinted lip balm with a unicorn on it, as well as the princess jewelry kit, complete with fake earrings and a necklace with aurora, her favorite princess, on the pendant.

she demolishes the easter egg hunt you set up for her in the backyard, just like her dad always did. she squeals when she opens each one, even though all the $1 bills don’t mean anything to her, and will end up being spent by you two anyway. you agreed to spend the total $10 on her, regardless. it’s about having something that’s her own, forming an identity at an early age.

later in the morning, when you appear in the living room, ready for easter brunch with your family, he falls in love all over again. his girls, now a complete contrast to his view earlier this morning, clad in your easter best, look so beautiful, he’s now thoroughly convinced you’re angels.

you’re in a pink ruffled maxi dress, hair and makeup done to the nines. your baby girl got her hair styled by mom, one of her favorite pastimes. her curly hair lay beautifully behind the world’s cutest bangs, and she’s cute as pie with her yellow flowered dress.

he saunters over to you, piercing you with a gaze that said ‘i’m ready for baby #2 now’ before kissing you, then eloise.

“you are the two most beautiful girls in the entire world,” he croons, hugging you both close to him in his big arms.

“i love you,” you whisper up to him, kissing his jawline sweetly, “what do you say to daddy, sweet girl?” you prompt, rubbing her baby belly.

“thank you daddy, i love you!” she chirps, planting a big kiss on his cheek.

he never thought his life could be filled with this much joy.

#oh i want his kids BAD #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid smut

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delicatedarknight · 4 months

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Bruce: ok kids I'm going out on a date with Clark. behave yourself

[few seconds after Bruce left]

Jason: from today on I'm the king of this city. Bow down to me peasants

Tim: bow down huh? Come here let me bow down your head backwards

Jason: you dare to talk back to me, you imbecile. Our fight shall be worthy

Tim: let's meet in the ring, peasant

Damian: On one side we have our penny worth king and on the other hand we have a dime worth peasant. The fight shall begin

Jason: here you go peasant have this +2

Tim[smirking]: bow down to me. *Throws a +4*

Jason[grinning]: huh bow? To you huh? Now suffer

*throws 2 +4*

Tim[pulls out Jason's order history]: checkmate

Jason[laughing maniacally]: any last words? *Pulls out Tim/kon cute pics together*

[loud gasps audio]

Dick[in batman's cape]: order order silence in the court

Jason: your honor this villain has stolen my rightful place as the king.

Tim: objection you honor. It's all a lie. I'm the rightful king. I even have witness with me

Dick: present the witness

Damian[in specs]: your honor I'm Detective Wayne I would say they both are liars. *Removes the specs* it's I, I am the actual king, my lord

Bruce: no your honor, it's me. I'm the real king.

[loud gasps]

Dick[sweating]: haha the court declares Bruce as the king and is now adjourned.

Jason[silently walking away]: yea yea he is the kin-

Bruce[catching Jason]: now as the king, I shall hand over the decree

[collective tsks from kids]

Bruce: my dear subjects, from today on each Friday shall be 'Who dressed up as the best meme' war. The winner shall be awarded adequately.

Damian: it's not like we lack anything father

Bruce: the winner shall be awarded with Batman's affection

[collective screaming]

Jason: this time I shall win

Damian: dream on

Clark[outside window]: can I also participate?

[collective boos]

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harunayuuka2060 · 3 months

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*MC's family came to visit the Royal Palace.*

Falena, Leona, and Kifaj: ...

MC's father: Thank you for granting us permission to visit today. I sincerely appreciate the opportunity.

MC's brother: Yo, ex-brother-in-law~! Looking good today, aren't we? *waves at Leona with a goofy smile*

Leona: *scoffs*

MC's sister: Can't you be the least respectful, brother?

MC's brother: I don't know. Stop being delusional first. I might consider you.

MC's sister: *glares*

MC's father: Behave. Both of you.

MC's father: *bows his head to Leona and Falena* Please excuse my children's behavior.

Falena: No, no. It's fine. Though I wonder why have you decided to pay a visit all of a sudden?

MC's father: *raises his head* *and looks at them straight in the eye*

MC's father: I want to meet my grandson.

Falena and Leona: ...

Falena: *smiles awkwardly* Please forgive me, but MC has... strictly instructed us that you should talk to them first before seeing Prince Liora.

MC's sister: How rude! They're just a commoner and they dare to instruct the Royal Family?!

Kifaj: Miss, I would like to point out that you are the one being rude to the one who gave birth to the prince.

MC's sister: E-Excuse me?!

MC's brother: We just need to ask them, right? Can you tell us where they are?

Leona: In my room, resting.

MC's sister: Y-Your room? But... aren't you two divorced? You shouldn't even-

Leona: Who are you to tell me what to do? You're just my former sister-in-law.

MC's brother: True! *nodding*

MC's sister: *hits him*

MC's father: I see that His Royal Highness still cares about MC.

Leona: ...

Leona: *smirks* Hey, father. Can I ask you something?

MC's father: Of course, Your Royal Highness.

Leona: I want to marry MC under the divine law of transcendentals.

Leona: Will that be possible?

MC's father: ...

MC's father: Prince Leona, you and MC are already married under the divine law.

Leona: !!!

Falena and Kifaj: *surprised to hear that information*

Falena: Goodness! Is that true?

MC's father: Yes. However, if the spouse who is not a transcendental decides not to acknowledge their divine marriage, they can do so.

Leona: Heh. So spiritually, we're still a couple? *smiling*

MC's father: Yes.

MC's sister: *is on the verge of tears*

MC's brother: Ooh... I know that hurts. *funnily side-eyeing his sister*

Kifaj: It seems the information has left a smile on your face, Your Royal Highness.

Leona: Is it?

MC's brother: Now all you have to do is to make them fall in love with you.

Kifaj and Leona: !!!

MC's brother: *has been following them from behind*

MC's brother: Yo! *smiles*

Kifaj: Sir, I thought you had already left...

MC's brother: Hm? I want to see my baby nephew! And father asked me to take pictures! *does a peace sign*

Leona: I don't think MC will approve it. Go home.

MC's brother: Eh? We're not close, sure. But we're not enemies either.

Leona: ...

Leona: Anyway, about what you said earlier-

MC's brother: You want suggestions? :3

Leona: ...

MC: Why did you suddenly ask me to play chess?

Leona: I just remembered that you like playing this.

MC: *looks at him, trying to discern his intention*

Leona: ...

MC: ...

MC: What did my stupid brother tell you?

Leona: ...

Leona: *sigh*

Leona: He said that one of the reasons you agreed to marry me was because I was good at playing chess.

MC: Hm. He's not wrong.

Leona: ...

Leona: Really?

MC: Yes.

Leona: How come? *couldn't hide his interest*

MC: ...

MC: *recalls how Leona looks beautiful while crushing his opponent*

MC: Beat me in this game and I will tell you.

Leona: *smirks* Okay.

*After a few minutes*

MC: Checkmate.

Leona: ...

Prince Liora: *giggles*

Leona: *frowns* I want another round.

MC: Hm. Alright. It seems entertaining for Liora. We can continue so he can watch how you lose.

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst leona #twst baby liora #twst falena #twst kifaji #twst divorced au

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reiderwriter · 3 months

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My Love Is Mine All Mine

Week 2 of my Playlist series 🎧💕

Summary: Spencer Reid always liked broken things, but you didn't think you could be fixed. Maybe all you needed was understanding and companionship.

Warnings: slight angst, case details mentioned - misogyny, kidnapping, etc, but no graphic/ explicit details. Hurt/Comfort.

A/N: Tumblr, please let me post haha I've been good, I promise 🙏 This fic is so late because I've been having some technical issues with tumblr and it has greatly annoyed me, so hopefully if you're seeing this it's been fixed? Who knows... Thank you to everyone who has sent in songs so far for the Playlist series, I'll be cresting the playlist today and posting it for everyone to see and use!

Masterlist || Series Playlist

Falling for Spencer Reid wasn't in your plan for the new year, but looking back, it was probably something that was just bound to happen.

He'd been the first person to show you any kindness after everything you went through, the first person who hadn't put their own rigid horror at your past before their attempts at sympathy.

You watched the way people recoiled from you as you told them - bluntly, you had to be blunt - what the man in the cabin had done to you.

He listened to your words, didn't interrupt, didn't quietly shake in anger, and refuse to meet your eyes like your father did, didn't weep for her baby like your mother did. He took your hand as it shook. He held your gaze.

It was his job to ask questions, but there weren't many left to answer.

The only reason you were alive was because his team had tracked the string of bodies to your kidnappers home. You were alive because one of his coworkers had put a bullet through his head, ending your nightmare.

The very idea of love was repulsive to you as you emerged from that basement in the first days of the next year, and you remembered thinking the snow looked fresh and soft. You remembered wanting to lay in it, to wrap it around yourself like a warm blanket and drift into sleep. The cold ground would be as much comfort as you would allow yourself.

Because after everything, you knew you didn't deserve love.

You accepted understanding from him, though.

When the shock wore off, you were awash in all the misery inflicted upon you. You raged, kicked, screamed, broke things, and made people uncomfortable. Nothing would numb the pain of being trapped inside your head, your head still trapped inside that basement, that cage.

He came to visit you at the hospital. The nurses had given up on you, were content you were physically healing, and that they had technically done their job but not bothered by your deteriorating mental state. Some days, you swore that they pierced your skin in the wrong places purposefully, not even searching for your vein.

But then he was there, with a book and a chess board, and he'd asked you if you'd ever played before.

“No. Chess always seemed too…” You swallowed the bile that drowned your lungs and tried again. “Before, it was boring. An old person game, too many rules. Now… He said we shouldn't do things like this. Said we shouldn't cultivate our minds.”

It was a confession again, but one that took a weight off your shoulders, and not one that pushed it further down.

“Would you like to learn?” His tone was so soft and awkward, like a teenage boy asking a girl out on a first date, that you almost giggled.

“I'll be honest and say you'll never beat me, I've played through most board combinations, including a large proportion of the 10^80 theorised checkmate positions, so if you'd rather do something else, that's fine, or I can leave, too, if… you'd… prefer?”

You had laughed then, a thing that bubbled up from the pit of your stomach and left your shoulders shaking as you gasped for breath doubled over.

You'd been in hell for six months, and he'd drawn you out of it for a few moments by rambling about chess.

“Are you a patient person, Doctor Reid?”

“I think so.”

“Then set up the board and let's play.”

He beat you every time, obviously, but you enjoyed his small explanations of the moves, and you did improve slightly.

More than that, you enjoyed his company. It wasn't that you talked extensively In your hospital room, oscillating between your lowest point and somewhere just a rung above that where the snow was falling and the air was fresh, but that he never looked at you the way others did.

You were discharged and were sad to lose that small glimmer of normality. He'd come twice a week throughout January, and now you were back in your usual shape. You were being discharged, and so that would end.

You were surprised that he came to pick you up from the hospital the day you left.

The parents who had looked everywhere for you for half a year hadn't wanted to, and the close friends from before hadn't spared you a thought since reposting your missing poster on their social media pages.

But the man you played chess with twice a week, the man who'd carried you out of hell himself was there.

“Ready to go?” You nodded, dumbstruck, and followed as he grabbed your bag.

You weren't exactly sure where it was you were going, but you followed the man anyway, only a small part of your brain shouting in protest considering the last time you'd been blindly trusting.

He led you back to an apartment with some bare furnishings but a large window and a warm soft blanket covering the bed. It wasn't his, but yours.

“Your parents are paying for it. They're taking the city to court due to the circumstances. Apparently, there were numerous phone calls to law enforcement that went unnoticed, but the city is looking to settle, so you don't have to worry about rent for a while, maybe ever again. The WiFi is all set up, hot water is working, and so is the heating. The locks are triple enforced, and I'm right down the hall, so if you need-”

“What?”

He blinked at you and suddenly, looking sheepish, as if becoming aware that he'd presumed a friendship between the two of you without consulting you first.

“I live down the hall.”

You stared at each other for a few moments as you processed his words. He lived down the hall. He'd driven you to your new home, set everything up for you, and he lived down the hall.

“You're a good man, Spencer Reid.” You whispered, turning away to not let the moment linger anymore than it already had.

Chess nights became routine. You'd set up the board and play for an hour or two or until you were sick of losing.

Gradually, though, the nights got longer. He'd arrive just as you were eating a meal, and you'd invite him to join you, or he'd bring along takeaway and you'd eat quietly together, talking about everything and nothing.

One day, you'd mentioned a film. A popular one, one you'd loved as a child and still rewatched to this day.

“I've never seen it, is it good?” He'd said. And in your shock, you jumped up and sent half the chessboard flying.

“Well, it seems that now our game is over, that we have time to give you an education, Doctor Reid.”

“I have three PhD's-”

“And still you haven't seen Clueless?”

You'd pulled him over to the couch he'd picked out for you, loaded up the movie and then invented a new tradition.

Chess nights and film nights were separate days of the week. So he could always promise to be around for one of them even if he had to miss the other because of work.

You didn't ask him about his job anymore. He saved people like you, and you didn't need to be thinking about people like you too much.

What they went through, if they survived physically. If they survived in other ways.

He always visited you first when he returned, though. There would be a knock on your door at some point in the day or night, and he'd let you know he was home safe.

Another tradition. You'd opened the door to let him in the first time he'd returned from a case after you moved in, and he'd leaned down and wrapped his arms around you.

You heard the breath of relief, loud and emotional, and hadn't quite realised it had come from you until a few minutes later. Some part of you had thought he wouldn't come back.

Now, every time he came home, you ran to the door and quietly comforted each other, reminding the other that no matter what happened, you were both there for each other.

You weren't sure when traditions and movies turned into love or if it had lingered over you the entire time. You didn't think you could love someone right then, your heart broken into small pieces with the torment you'd suffered.

But it was stitched back together with pieces of him still lodged inside. He was in the very fabric of your being as you became whole again.

The truth was that you most likely couldn't find love again because there was no room in your heart for anyone else. And you'd never be able to reschedule chess nights to go on dates anyway.

You weren't sure if Spencer ever figured out how much of hum you carried around with him, how your eyes followed his lips as he ran through decades of memories to give you the fact he thought would please you the most. You weren't sure if he loved you as much as you did him until you were.

You'd agreed to watch one of his movies for a change, agreeing to stop the streak of 80s brat pack classics to watch a black and white war film from Russia with no subtitles. You'd sat together on that couch under blankets you'd bought together months earlier, and he'd pulled you in closer.

“I want to watch the movie and translate at the same time. You should sit here.” He'd pulled you into his lap, letting your back fall against his chest as his lips fell to your ears, and he began to whisper.

Sitting there so closely, so intimately, was almost torture. Unconsciously, your head tipped back with his words, displaying your neck and shoulders, silently willing his lips to drift even once. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you did your best not to squirm the entire movie, but with your heart beating out of your chest, it was a hopeless cause.

“Did you enjoy it?” He whispered as the credits rolled, but you hadn't even noticed the movie had ended. It wasn't until the silence that followed his question stretched out notably that you came back to reality. You couldn't answer, in fact. You gaped for a few short moments, hoping something vague but accurate enough would just pop into your mind.

As you attempted to negotiate yourself out of distraction, you turned your face to his, but he was closer than you thought.

Your noses touched, and your breaths mingled. His arms still wrapped around your waist, and your blankets still anchored you to one another.

“I wasn't paying attention to the movie, Spencer. I'm sorry.” The words came out of you so fast, yet so quietly that you were surprised yourself how honest you had chosen to be.

“Why not?” He asked, eyes having drifted sleepily down to gaze at your lips.

You didn't answer his question but felt your cheeks flush red. You thought about pulling away, moving back, or at least laughing everything off, but you didn't. You stayed there, still like a deer in headlights.

“Your voice was too distracting,” You forced some of the tension out of your body and let your head fall against his shoulder again, hoping this moment wouldn't end anytime soon.

“Distracting?” He sounded concerned and shifted in his seat, lifting you up from your happy place in his arms until you were again face to face. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

The look on his face was so concerned and focused that you had to pause for a second to catch your breath. He cared about your comfort so much and paid attention to each word that came out of your mouth. He wanted your happiness more than anything in the world.

“No. I'm never uncomfortable with you, Spencer.” You were back to whispering now, hands floating up to grab his own, fidgeting by his sides. You bought them up to your face and guided his hands to your cheeks, needing to show him just how comfortable you were with him in actions, not just words. Words could be dishonest. Actions were honest.

His concern melted away as he began stroking your cheek with his thumb, smiling sweetly at you.

Though you were both content, you'd never been quite this intimate before. So when his thumb swiped over the corner of your lips, your eyes both caught on each other. You could see him weighing up the outcomes in his head, going back and forth between pulling away and pushing in closer.

Slowly and softly, as though he were trying not to startle you, his head moved closer until his lips were on yours.

It was a quiet kiss. You wouldn't describe it as fireworks, or butterflies, or anything loud and grand and passionate. It was quiet, and it was right.

He pulled away seconds later, trying to gauge your reaction, but you followed him away and kissed him again.

When you finally pulled away, it took you a few seconds to realise you'd climbed back into his lap, unconsciously having moved closer to him. You guiltily looked up, waiting to see any discomfort on his features, but to your surprise, he was busy straightening out your hair.

“I love you, Spencer,” you whispered as he took care of you. He smiled, looking down at you once again, pulling his arms around you to gently lower both of you down to a laying position on your couch.

“I love you, too,” he said as you held each other and drifted into contented sleep.

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