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kanene-yaaay · 2 months

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Sousou no Frieren- Tickle Headcanons

This anime has me in a chockehold and ain't letting me go so soon so I might as well share all the daydreams and thoughts living in my mind rent free since I watched it and decided that!!! Hey!!! I can add tickles to that!!!

Anyway, at first I was going to just write about Himmel and a few other selected characters from both adventures but GOSH suddenly all out of nowhere I start daydreaming about ALL OF THEM and so... This long post was born. kjhgfdfghjklkj not all of them are going to be very long and it can be OOC but I hope you still like to read it as much as I liked to write! <3

[~*~]

Himmel

(We are not going to talk about how much time I spent trying to choose just one gif) Our dear dead wife <3

He LOVES tickles and no one can convice me otherwise, I mean! Look at him! He definitely play that card at any moment he can

Cheering someone up? They say that laughter is the best medicine! Another boring day stuck in a cabin waiting for the snowstorm to go away? Nothing better than a tickle fight to make the time pass! Comforting a sad kid they just saved and are bringing to safety? Add a few wiggling fingers and watch that beautiful smile appear right way! Someone is literally just minding their own business doing nothing at all GET TICKLE ATTACKED!

He is a charming, playful, dramatic bastard and he knows it. He is using every and any opportunity to plentily tease the person, praising their laughter, pointing how lovely is their every reaction, gasping in false offense at any threat of revenge.

He will definitely laugh and snicker together with the person and sometimes let out honest comments that weren't supposed to be teasy but are like 'I didn't expect you to be so ticklish' or 'Wait, it tickles? Right here? That is so cute' and take the matters on his own hands to find at least one (1) new tickle spot when he tickles a friend because their surprised face right before descending in unstoppable giggling is way too priceless

Now, I need you to listen to this very very carefully: he can NOT take what he dishes out. at all.

So much squirming and trashing around. He can't control himself at all and won't even try to hold his laughter back, letting it ring loud and free, dying with any kind (literally, anything will do) of tease and pleading for his life as if he is being killed on the spot.

Somehow is totally blind to tickle traps. Sometimes just to mess with him Heiter would hold his cup up and ask for a toast and when Himmel complied he would latch on his ribs and rip my bro. he's dead on the floor. He never seems it coming even if they already done this a dozen time before.

Always crumbles with the tickles. A squeeze on his side and his legs transform in noodles immediately. That doesn't mean that he is a easy target though, if you decide to tickle him be prepared for some revenge

His main target and partner of tickle fights is Heiter, even though they manage to pull the rest of the party to their shenanigans sometimes too, even getting to listen to listen Eisen low, amused chuckles and Freiren tiny smile.

Talking about that. There is just one very specific occasion all his self preservations, squirms and defense disappear in the same second: when Frieren is involved.

Once, when both Heiter and Einsen decided to gang up on him, she decided to get into the fun with a few pokes and the VERY MOMENT Himmel realized that she was tickling him it was over.

He became a boneless mess of hysterical giggles on the floor not moving a single inch and taking all the tickling with no protests, completely lost in the fact that this was Frieren having fun, being silly and playful with them and his brain shortcurted and suddenly he became 1000000000000 more ticklish instantly.

Excuse me honor he is SMITTEN

If he is tickled for long enough or on a specially ticklish spot he lets out a loud, high pitched crackling that never fail to amuse his friends because he gets extremely red at that and tries to cover his face at any cost.

Besides that, he is not flustered at all about his liking to tickle and be tickled. It's a fun activity, a nice way to bond and it bring happiness to everyone! What is there to be embarrased about it?

Though other teases can destroy him rip

Is extremely and I say extremely gentle and caring when tickling Frieren. Soft scribbles, light scratching and steeping away not before too long has passed. Sometimes get lost in the happiness and joy of the moment but it's quick to come back to reality so that his tickling never lasts too long and he gets smiley about it for the rest of the day.

Gets grumpy about how he never manages to catch Einsen by surprise but immediately loses his pout when the warrior decides that he is not the one who started that war but he is the one who will finish it.

When he takes too long to decide a pose for their statue they start to attack him with plenty of pokes and squeezes until he finally makes up his mind.

Sometimes they just do that while he is posing to mess with him too. Especially because Himmel will try to pretend nothing is happening and attempt to keep his pose on the very beginning until he eventually breaks down in titters and protesting giggles.

It never lasts long. But he keeps trying

Has The Smirk.

Softest and most playful aftercare ever. With plenty of comfort and smiles.

Heiter

Our flawed priest <3

Do not have The Smirk but he has an entire aura about him that you can't really point what it is but suddenly there's ringing danger bells in your mind and on outside he looks normal, just taking a drink but then you blink and then BOOM he strikes

Can and will destroy someone with tickles with just one (1) hand because his other one is too busy carrying his cup

Gets stupidly silly when tickling someone. He will chuckle together with the person and use the goofiest nicknames, teases, tickle traps and everything else he can think of. It's the whole ordeal, really. He has no shame.

It's quite neutral but leaning to positive when it comes to tickling, but since Himmel is always dragging him into tickle fights he can't help but get a little bit of playful revenge. After a few years he started a couple of them by himself too.

Is horribly skilled with the nimblest and deadliest tickles ever.

Also. Changes from side to side of a tickle fight easy as water and will always help who offers him more drinks. So be careful when siding up with him to not get too close or comfortably into tickling range.

Somehow, incredibly lucky in finding tickle spots, be with random pokes to call the person's attention or some soft scribbling to hear some giggles and smile amused and content at them.

Also adept to cheer up or comforting tickles, creating a lot of fond memories with Fern in the nights she couldn't sleep and they both shared some good tea while watching the sky.

Will try to curl up in a ball when tickled and his only protest is to be careful with his glasses.

Not really very affected by teases. Says a lot of nonsense when is tickled tho

Frieren

HEEEEERRRRRRRR <3 <3 Our old lady

Has the tiniest, sweetest smile when tickling someone. it's adorable.

Do not engage in tickle fights but it's not against them. Usually would just stay in the background with Einsen while the other two got caught up in their giggly shenaningans

Her biggest moment was when she decided to show everyone this magic spell she learned some decades ago and then suddenly everyone is attacked by a bunch of wiggly, fluffy feathers that followed them no matter how much they squirmed or jumped.

Tickle spell tehee

They never got to know if she did that to mess with them or if she truly just wanted to show the spell.

Is more curious about tickling than anything. Thinks it's a nice way to make her friends laugh, but it's also very neutral about it, won't actively seek revenge or anything.

After years with both Himmel and Heiter, also lightly tickled Fern once or twice for the sake of cheering her up.

Ticklish ears ticklish ears ticklish ears ticklish ears-

The first time Himmel tickled her he immediately fell on the floor ded because it was too much cute.

(The way he looked at her that day is a fond memory for her, she doesn't quite know why, tho.)

Not really a squirmer and her laughter is mostly silence, full of small giggles and one or two hiccups. Like soft tickles the best, since it is not unbearable to feel and actively leaves her w a light, quite content feeling afterwards. She could take a tickle fight, tho.

Fern

<3 Somehow the most responsible adult in the party <3

Terrifying ler, can and will use your weakness against you.

Just as she does when fighting, thrives when her victim understimate her power and is quick and ruthless to bring them to their destruction.

Will tickle the person usually as a way to get them to do something (probably a chore they forgot) or admit something while having the most unimpressed face ever seen by humankind

She can be both incredibly merciless and very very kind, depends on her mood, the person and the context

Only like being tickled by someone she really trusts and not around another people so no one will her being silly like this.

Get very embarrassed just for thinking how childish tickling is, but treasures the soft moments with har friends and family, just like every other playful, fun, nice memory

When the person (let's be honest here, probably Spark) is too occupied laughing their heart out also let's out the tiniest, softest smile, pretty much like Frieren

Used tickles to cheer up Spark once and promised to do 10 times worse if he even THINKS about mentioning that to anyone

Snorts. SO much of them. If she is laughing they will automatically appear no matter how much she tried to hide them between her hands.

Her shoulders and head shake with giddy energy when is being tickled. It's everything <3

Einsen

*LOUD INTELLIGIBLE SCREAMING* AAAAAA

As I said on Himmel's part, not really one to start the tickle fight but a quick one to finish it.

Not really very ticklish and not very easy to be caught out of guard so rip his opponents, really

HOWEVER, he has one single incredibly and horribly ticklish spot right under his knee that he immediately DIES when it's tickled and it's an automatic win for the person, so the thing is of every fight is: will them be able to get him there before he gets them? That is the big question

Not really a teaser, prefers to tickle the person in silence while mapping the places that get the biggest reactions so he can focus there.

Could or could not have used this techinique with Spark to 'train his resistence' once (an excuse that his friends were very fond to use with him) but no one will ever know because if you ask him he will just stare at you and let out a single chuckle before going on about his day and Spark will Blush and Die before answering

Made mental bets and always knew the score by heart of Himmel x Heiter fights

Used to think it was a silly and pointless activity. But after their ten year adventure came to treasure and be fond of silly, pointless activities

Loud, booming laughter or no laughing at all. No in between.

Spark

DA BOI WHO DID NOT DESERVE THAT PAST AND NOW DESERVE ALL THE LAUGHTER EVER

Do not mind tickling at all!

It kind of reminds he of his brother, since when he was a kid he was the biggest tickle monster ever. Not only on those training tips he used to give even while being extremely busy, but he just loved to appear out of nowhere behind him, carry and put him on his shoulder and tickle him while walking back home, pretenidng he was carrying a bag of 'extremely wiggly vegetables!'

He also used pokes and prodding to help him with maintaining his form while wielding a sword. Even if extremely common, Spark still squeaked everytime he poked his armpit to remind him to not his arms so far away from his torso

Still, everytime he is tickled that boi just can't form ANY coherent sentence at all, no matter if he is full on belly laughter with just a few giggles, his mind immediately turn into a mushy mess

Won't go down without a fight. Running away, attacking back, squirming as his life depends on that. Most of the time squirming away from it only to dash in a sudden bolt of energy and then come back in a surprise tickle attack to get revenge.

Tried to get Fern back once for tickling and they ended up actually fighting but some days later she started a tickle fight so he ??? is just very confused??? if she actually hates it???

(But to see her loosing up, giggling, laughing out loud and being so full of playfulness and joy... wow)

He likes to throw a few playful teases here and there when he is tickling his friends, with plenty of snickers of his own and pointing out how ticklish the other person is or about their delight reactions.

!!Tickles games!!!

His entire face gets extremely red when his laughter begins to sound higher or crackly. Can NOT take any tease about that at all.

Sein

OUR EVEN MORE FLAWED PRIEST <3 <3 <3 Come back pls

THE MOST TICKLISH PERSON EVER

And his best, amazing, ruthless friend Gorilla was more than happy to remind him about it all the time

Until nowadays he can't really see fingers wiggling in his direction without immediately getting a wobbly smile and giggles instinctively creeping up on his throat

His brother also would tickle him when he was a kid and later would gladly snitch all the 'truly good, hidden tickle spots' to his friend much to his dismisse

Will trash, squirm, plea, beg and promise to do anything when tickled. Especially if we'retalking about light, soft tickles. Those make him go absolutely crazy out of his own mind

Even so, he doesn't mind it too much. Still, gets extremely embarrased and complains about how childish it is.

Def made AND lost bets again his friend and got tickled as a "payament". Also I can see them both having competitions to see who takes the longest to laugh, say uncle, keep their arms up and etc :D

Sometimes gives Spark a few tickles just to mess w him and snicker at the jumps he gives.

Spark got revenge so rip.

#me seeing how most of the gifs w Frieren she is always together w Himmel and vice versa: *sobbing. screaming.losing my mind.* thats fine :)#gonna be honest tho. gosh. every gif is so full of memories and amazingness. They're all always around each other and you just can FEEL #how much they care and aaaaaaaaaaa #putting them all in the microwave and shaking with no mercy LEAVE MY BRAIN ALONE kjhgfdfghjk #Ticklish!Himmel #Ticklish!Fern #Ticklish!Frieren #Ticklish!Einsen #Ticklish!Heiter #Ticklish!Spark #Ticklish!Sein #Sousou no frieren tickles #sousou no frieren tickling #Tickle headcanons #Kanene's tickle headcanons #Kanene's fic #Himmel's brainrot is STRONG #Still sobbing about Sein btw. How DARE he makes a rational choice that fits perfectly his character and development and go away to find his #friend instead of staying with the party HOW DARE HE I GOT ATTATCHED DAMMIT COME BACKKKK #Not to mention the fact that we get attatched to Himmel simply by the memories Frieren carries. Gosh.#To actually SEE the amount of adoring love and care that his gaze carries EVERYTIME he looks and interact w Frieren but also to see how muc #he just loves. everything around him and everyone. he cares and fight and protect and I can NOT. I can not and that is it #I gotta stop myself now or I will slowly descend into madness if I start talking about all the dynamics and interactions in this story. gee

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

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The Colour of Waiting is Purple

Summary: Spencer's just trying to get home as quickly as possible when a bad decision to take a shortcut down a back alley leaves him broken and bleeding into the night. // Hotch thinks it's a new case when his phone rings at 3 in the morning. It isn't.

Tags: whump, hurt/comfort, physical assault, major character injury, hospitals, dad hotch, hurt spencer, angst with a happy ending, eventual fluff

TW: graphic descriptions of violence // physical assault (no rape/non-con)

Pairing: Gen, Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Disclaimer: I'm sure there are some medical inaccuracies here, everything I know comes from google, whump tumblr blogs, and my embarrassing obsession with medical dramas. I also have no knowledge of the US medical system aside from what I know from the aforementioned sources so excuse any issues there.

Spencer doesn’t think anything of it when he leaves work at his usual time, the clock pushing midnight and the offices deserted. He packs his few personal belongings up and turns off his lamp before nodding to the janitor, the only other person to be seen, and taking the elevator down to the ground floor where there’s a little more sign of human life at least.

As soon as he steps out into the crisp winter air, he feels the exhaustion of working close to 18 hours straight on far too little sleep hit him. They haven’t even been working a case, he just gets so caught up in his reports and consults that he doesn’t notice the hours whizzing by until he looks up and the bullpen is deserted, dark except for his desk lamp.

Inevitably when spending the day at the office dealing with banalities, he finds something that captures his interest. It tends to send him on a trawl through the internet — or, occasionally, to another part of the building — looking it up in every journal he buys a subscription to until that itch is scratched.

The others always gently touch his shoulder or call out to him as they leave, which he tends to hear about 50% of the time, and Hotch especially tries to make him leave at a more sensible time, but he can’t help the way his brain works. Once it latches onto something it’s not letting go until it’s satisfied.

His feet carry him to the Metro station while his brain absently thinks over his most recent fixation, and soon enough he’s at his stop and back in DC. The streets are slightly more lively in the city, and the noise and light snap him back to reality enough to remind him of his bone-deep fatigue. He usually walks down the main streets to get to his apartment building, occasionally catching a bus if he’s earlier than usual or a cab if he’s later, but tonight he’s just longing for a quick microwave meal, a shower, and his bed. So, he dips down an alleyway and takes the shortcut home.

It’s stupid.

He knows pretty much every statistic there is to know about his city, and at the forefront of his brain are those concerning crime. DC has one of the highest crime rates in America, and a person’s chances of being a victim is 1 in 18, and although it’s slightly lower in Adams Morgan which is one of the safest, violent crimes are still 36% higher than the national average. This is decidedly increased when you take stupid risks like walking through the backstreets in the dead of night when you’re on your own.

Sadly, this does not occur to Spencer before he’s deep in the back streets of the city, being slammed ruthlessly against a wall by two men he didn’t see coming.

He’s winded immediately, and before his brain can catch up with what’s happening, a knife is being held dangerously close to his neck. All his self-defence training, all the moves Derek had spent hours teaching him when he’d first joined the BAU fly out the window and he can only breathe heavily with what he knows must be a terrified expression on his face.

“Well, well, well,” the man holding the knife leers, his arid breath hitting Spencer’s face, “look what we have here.”

The other man doesn’t speak. He’s stood slightly further back, arms crossed as he stares Spencer down. Although he’s physically the lesser threat right now, something about him has ice pooling in Spencer’s stomach.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, you fucking pansy,” he continues, pushing Spencer further into the wall, pain blossoming across his body, “you’re gonna let us look through your gay ass purse, and we’re gonna take whatever we want from it. And then, you’re gonna let Paulie here do whatever he wants to you. He’s had a real bad day, and a pathetic little queer like you is just the punching bag he needs, you hear me?”

It’s all Spencer can do to nod his head frantically. He wants to open his mouth, to negotiate, to talk them down, but this is nothing like when he’s faced with the FBI’s most wanted. He’s in control there, he’s on his turf, his playing field, it’s his game and he knows every rule, every bylaw, every exception.

Right now, he’s completely at these men’s mercy.

“Paulie, take his bag.” The man doesn’t take his eyes off Spencer’s face, scanning his expression and body language for any sign he’s about to bolt, for any reason to put his knife to work.

He tries to calm himself down a little, enough to catch his breath at least. He’s taken countless beatings throughout his life, he knows how to survive, just… please, don’t let it be anything more. It’s all Spencer dares to hope for.

The other man steps forward and snatches his messenger bag, unceremoniously dumping the contents of his bag on the pavement. Spencer’s just grateful that he doesn’t have anything in there that hints towards his career. He knows this type: they’re intimidating but they’re easily scared. Right now, he’s a weak twenty-something on his way home, he’s not a threat to them, but who knows what they’d do to him if they realised he’s a fed?

They take his wallet and his phone before they rummage through his pockets to find some spare cash. His badge is tucked in an inner pocket in his blazer and his Quantico ID is still hanging around his neck, hidden under his scarf, blazer, and thin overcoat; he’s so glad he never took it off.

An icy tear drips down his face as he stands there, pressed against the wall, awaiting his fate. All he wants right now is to be back at home. No, that’s not right. All he wants right now is Hotch. As soon as the thought of his father-figure crosses his mind, the tears start flowing faster, desperate to feel safe again, knowing Hotch is the only person to really let him feel that way.

The man holding the knife has turned to watch Paulie sift through his bag and rummage through his pockets, but as soon as his steely grey eyes return to Spencer’s face, his face splits into a shit-eating grin. “Aw, are you crying?” he mocks, starting to laugh. “Are the big bad men making you feel scared? You gonna run home to Mommy?”

He knows that it’s exactly what the man wants, but he can’t stop the tears from devolving into full-blown sobs at his words. The whole terrifying experience, the implications, the realisations of what might be coming for him in the next few minutes start to catch up to him and he’s violently shaking as he cries uncontrollably.

“You’re pathetic,” the man spits, releasing his grip on him slightly, letting Spencer’s shaky legs collapse under him and send him crashing towards the ground. “He’s all yours, Paulie. I’m gonna enjoy this.”

His position is quickly taken over by Paulie as the other man leans against a dumpster close by to watch the show, and Spencer looks up at the intimidating man with fear blazing in his eyes as he hangs in purgatory, knowing the hell that’s about to rain down on him.

Paulie doesn’t take long to get started and he doesn’t hold back, his sturdy, black boots kicking him relentlessly in the stomach and his thighs before moving up to his chest, slamming the toe of his boots into each individual rib. Spencer can hear the other man laughing maniacally over the sound of his own bones breaking, over his own choked pleas for mercy, but it’s like Paulie doesn’t hear either of them. His face is blank as he gives Spencer the beating of his life, and it only makes him more terrifying.

He quickly gets bored of kicking Spencer and bends down to yank him up by his scarf, only to land a hard, brutal punch on his jaw, then his cheek, then his nose before dropping him down again, this time so his back is vulnerable, at the mercy of Paulie’s cruel feet.

The torture continues for a few more minutes, and Spencer doesn’t know how no-one hears his desperate cries, but they’re left alone in the alley as he coughs up blood and feels his bones break under the tread of Paulie’s boots. He’s deprived of air as his chest is stood on, as his windpipe is crushed, but finally, finally it’s over.

“I’m bored,” Paulie grunts, giving Spencer one last brutal kick to the base of his back before walking over to the other man. They both saunter off down the alleyway, not casting a single look back at Spencer lying curled up on the ground, surrounded by his own blood.

Soon, the men have left, and he’s alone with only his ragged, painful breaths for company. He can hear the hoots of a bachelor party just a street over, but no-one’s coming to save him. No-one else is stupid enough to venture down the backstreets of DC. Not with crime rates like those of their city. Not in the small hours of the morning. Not alone.

He doesn’t even have his phone to call for help.

⭐️

Hotch expects it to be work when he picks up the phone at 3am. By the time he’s sat up in bed and sliding the bar on his phone to answer it, he’s already half in work-mode, ready to call Jessica and drive Jack over before racing into work to beat the others on the team. He can already taste his first coffee of the day.

“Hello, is this Aaron Hotchner?”

It isn’t work.

“Uh, yes,” he says hesitantly, shifting upright a little further, sleep-addled mind trying to guess who the caller could possibly be, “speaking.”

“Hi, my name is Mary Kutner, I’m calling from George Washington University Hospital. I have you down as Spencer Reid’s emergency contact, is that correct?”

Hotch’s heart plummets, and he leaps out of bed immediately, ready to get dressed as the shock wakes him up. “That’s correct. What’s happened?”

“I’m afraid I can’t divulge much information over the phone, sir, but we’ll need you to come to the hospital urgently.”

He isn’t usually an emotional person, but he can feel tears springing to his eyes already. Spencer is a surrogate son to him, and knowing he’s hurt without knowing what he can actually do about it is an atrocious feeling. Please don’t let me watch another member of my family die, is all he can think as he tries to gain enough composure to reply to the nurse on the other end of the line.

“Can you tell me his condition?” he asks, somehow managing to get the words past the lump in his throat.

“He’s currently in theatre, sir,” Mary replies as gently as one can in such a professional tone. “If you come down to the hospital and report to the ER a doctor will be able to tell you more. I’ll need you to bring identification with you, please.”

“Okay,” he breathes, trying to keep as calm as possible, “okay. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be right there.”

He throws the phone on the bed as he finishes throwing his clothes on. He packs two bags: one for him (mostly filled with things Spencer might need) and one for Jack, pulls on his coat and shoes before creeping into his son’s room and lifting him out of bed gently, carrying him down to the car.

Jack is a heavy sleeper — he frequently wakes up the next morning tucked in his room at Jessica’s, sometimes in the car on the way — and he’s endlessly thankful for that now. Explaining why he’s dashing out of the flat with a panicked look on his face to a seven-year-old is a conversation he’s glad to avoid.

He rings Jessica on the way who, used to his early morning calls waking her up, has no problem with looking after Jack.

Somehow, he manages to make it to the hospital only forty-five minutes later, and he didn’t even have to park illegally. Thank God the hospital is at least a little quieter in the dead of night.

“Hi, I’m Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid’s emergency contact,” he explains shakily to the woman at the front desk, laying down his FBI identification bag down as ID. He could use his driving licence, sure, but… if knowing they’re FBI agents will make any difference to Spencer’s care then he doesn’t give a damn if this could be construed in some way as abuse of his position. He’d rather lose his job than lose his son.

“Oh, hi Agent Hotchner,” the woman says with a tone of recognition, glancing at his ID before typing something into her computer, “I’m Mary Kutner, I spoke to you on the phone. Dr Reid is still in surgery but I’ll go and find a doctor who can explain the situation to you.”

He nods absently, face stern and pinched as furious anxiety toils inside him. He feels like the last forty-five minutes have been a daze, and now the bright lights and noisy machines and bustling action of the Emergency Department at a major trauma centre are slowly snapping him out of it, the implications of ‘urgent’ and ‘surgery’ and it being the middle of the damn night finally catching up to him.

Some number of minutes pass by — he’s too anxious and caught in his head to keep track of the linear passage of time right now — before he’s approached by a young doctor, wearing a mask carefully constructed of confident professionalism and reassuring compassion.

“Agent Hotchner?” She’s clarifying uselessly, she knows it’s him. He knows she probably has to confirm for some stupid HIPAA rule, but he just wants to know what happened goddamnit.

“Yes,” he replies shortly, “what’s happened to Spencer?”

He doesn’t miss her almost perfectly concealed wince, and he feels his stomach sink further. “He was involved in an assault on his way home from work. A passer-by found him in a back road not far from the hospital and called for an ambulance. Luckily we got him into surgery quickly. Upon admission’s initial assessment, he had a ruptured spleen, a collapsed lung, a double kidney contusion, and he suffered a pelvic fracture along with multiple broken ribs, a fractured jaw and cheekbone, and several severe breaks in his left forearm, wrist, and hand.”

Hotch stares at the doctor in disbelief as she lists Spencer’s injuries: he feels like he’s going into shock. How could anyone want to hurt the sweetest person he’s ever met? How could anyone be so brutal? He’s worked with serial killers for nearly two decades and still, nothing could prepare him for this. He sits down in the seat behind him as the world spins, his brain trying to piece everything together.

“Are you alright, sir?” the doctor asks, sitting down in the seat next to him. “Do you want a glass of water?”

“What?” He turns to look at her before her words sink in and he realises what she asked. “Oh. No, I’m fine… I— is he going to be okay?” As soon as the first tear spills down his cheek, he can’t stop them from falling one after another, dripping down his face in his most public display of emotion since Haley died.

“He’s going to need a lot of care,” she reasons, “he’ll need to stay in hospital for at least a week depending on the outcome of the surgery, but we have every reason to believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

“What’s— what’s the surgery for?” He feels like he’s having an out of body experience.

“They’ll address the internal bleeding first by either fixing or removing the spleen and making sure we didn’t miss anything else on the scans. The surgeon will also assess the damage to Spencer’s kidneys and make sure they aren’t contributing to the internal bleeding. They’ll address the pelvic fractures and the collapsed lung as well. You need to understand that Spencer may need further surgery and he’ll definitely need very close monitoring over the coming weeks and months.”

“What about his broken bones?” Hotch asks. “How bad is it?”

She sighs. “They’re bad,” she admits. “The pelvic fractures are likely going to have a big impact on his mobility, and he won’t have the use of his left arm for a long time. We’re looking at a long recovery, Agent Hotchner. But we have every reason to believe that he will eventually recover.”

She pats him comfortingly on the hand before getting up. “Someone will fetch you as soon as he’s out of surgery.”

It’s not until she’s halfway across the waiting room that he realises she never even told him her name.

It’s close to 8am by the time a surgeon walks over to him, still dressed in scrubs. There’s a smudge of blood on his shirt and Hotch winces at the knowledge that it’s Spencer’s.

“How is he?” he asks, leaping up. He doesn't want any screwing around. He just wants to know if Spencer’s going to be okay.

“He’s stable. The surgery went well. Unfortunately, we had to conduct a full splenectomy to stop his internal bleed which does put him at risk for serious infections, but otherwise, it’s good news. His kidneys will need support but should heal in a timely manner, and we were able to set the rib that punctured his lung and reinflate it, although we’re going to keep him on oxygen to be safe. His pelvis was severely fractured but we managed to reposition the displaced bone fragments and inserted a screw and metal plate to hold them together.”

“Oh, thank God,” Hotch sighs with relief. The worst, immediate threats have been dealt with, and it settles a small part of the anxiety he’s feeling.

“He’s in room 338 if you’d like to go and see him. He should be waking up shortly.”

⭐️

Wasting no time, he races up to Spencer’s floor where a nurse lets him onto the ward and leads him down to 338. He pushes the door open apprehensively, swallowing his emotion at the sight of the man he considers a son lying in a hospital bed. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s been rushed to the hospital, but it’s never been like this. It’s always after a case: Spencer knows the risks of the job, they all do, and he puts himself deliberately in harm's way for the sake of others.

This time, though… this time he was just walking home from work. This time he had no say in the matter.

His left arm is in a cast and his face is bruised and swollen, chestnut hair matted and tangled. Opening the bag he packed, he pulls out a comb and gently teases out the tangles until he can comb through the curls completely unobstructed. There are undoubtedly more knots at the back of his head, but those can wait until he’s woken up at least. It just makes him feel like he’s doing something.

It’s only when he sits down in the chair by his bed that he realises it’s Thursday morning now; he’s supposed to be at work today, they both are. No-one except Jessica knows what’s happened.

The first thing, he supposes, is to ring Strauss.

Once that’s out of the way and she knows that neither he nor Spencer will be in today and he’ll inform her of the latest updates as soon as possible, he messages Rossi. He’s the only one who will be able to remain objective enough to inform everyone, and he’s enough of a dad to the team to help manage everyone’s emotional responses.

Just as he hits send on the message, his head snaps up at Spencer’s quiet whimpering as he comes around.

“Hey, hey, Spencer,” he says as soothingly as possible, “it’s okay, I’m here. You’re in the hospital. Are you in pain?”

Spencer blinks his eyes open blearily, wearing such a pained and vulnerable expression that it goes right to Hotch’s gut. He nods in response to his question, his good hand reaching to hold Hotch’s.

“Okay, there’s a PCA pump right here, I’ll turn it up a little. Is that better?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, tears springing to his eyes. Now he’s not in as much physical pain, Hotch knows this is pure emotion, and he thinks that’s somehow worse. Spencer’s been through a horrifying physical ordeal, but the emotional recovery is going to be just as gruelling and last years. If there’s one word he’d use to describe Spencer, though, it’s resilient.

He shushes him gently, bringing a hand to his hair and caressing it lightly. “I’m here,” he repeats. “You’re safe. I won’t leave you, okay?”

Spencer nods and relaxes into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as he calms down a little.

“You rest now,” he murmurs. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Everything’s going to be okay.”

They’ll deal with the fall-out later. They’ll deal with the team coming to visit, with the paperwork for his sick leave and the frustration of government bureaucracy. They’ll manage their way through processing the trauma of what happened to him, the physical, mental, and occupational implications of the assault. They’ll stay glued at the hip while Spencer’s interviewed by the police, while doctors explain to him just how serious his injuries are.

Right now, though, Spencer will sleep and Hotch will sit by his bedside watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to every steady beep on the heart rate monitor, searing the living breathing proof that Spencer is alive into his mind. Spencer will sleep and Hotch will cry silently over the cruelty of the world, he’ll grieve for the man he said good-bye to 12 hours earlier, knowing he’ll never quite be the same again.

Spencer will sleep and Hotch will be there, holding his hand, waiting for him to wake up again.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii @suburban--gothic @takeyourleap-of-faith

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #criminal minds whump #whump #spencer reid whump #aaron hotchner #hotch #spencer reid #aaron hotchner & spencer reid #criminal minds gen #criminal minds gen fic #criminal minds angst #tw violence #tw assault #tw beating

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what-if-i-imagine · 4 years

Text

“You’re so obsessed to find someone to love you because you can’t love yourself.”

Requested by my goddess: @a-single-drop-of-ink

Wally looked up from his home work the moment he heard the familiar feather light footfalls coming down the hall of his dormitory.

In barely a second he was at the door opening it up, smiling at his roommate whose hands were full of groceries. His roommate smiled back that perfect smile that could make any heart melt, and Wally remembered what he had told his Aunt over FaceTime the night before while he was out.

“He makes it feel like home.”

His Aunt had gone from her joking, bubbly happiness to a more subdued, love-struck but still happy state. She had given him that same smile she made any time they went through her photo albums of her and his uncle.

“Be careful,” she told him. Because she knew. Wally had told her all about his roommate, and she knew just as well as him where this would go.

“How was your date last night?” he asked with a mischievous smile, fighting back the thoughts in the back of his head.

“Well, I didn’t come back to the dorm, did I?” Dick, his roommate, replied easily. It was true, he hadn’t come back to the dorm at all the night before, shooting Wally a text around midnight saying this new girl he liked was letting him stay at her place. He pretended to rack his brain to remember her name, even though it was burned into his heart just like all the others.

“Kori, right? The foreign exchange student?” he asked.

“Yup,” Dick popped the P as a grin grew on his face. “She was great Wally, she was perfect. I think she’s the one.”

“You said that about Barbara G too. And Vic from sci. And Raya from the gym. And Roy from the coffee shop-”

“You’ve made your point!” Dick laughed, wacking him playfully with a box of plastic forks. “And for your information, all of them were the one, they just didn’t realize it.”

“You mean how Vic was too focused on school for commitment, Raya wasn’t looking for something serious, Barbara fell for one of her bandmates, and Roy was in love with your younger brother?” Wally asked.

“You know, you can be really mean sometimes,” Dick said with no heat.

“Just pointing out the obvious,” Wally shrugged. “What are we having for dinner?”

“Well you have the choice between the two greatest delicacies in the land,” Dick said with much flourish, unpacking the groceries into their mini fridge and food bin. “Either the Irish dish of Luck Charms cereal, or the Japanese dish of Ramen.”

“I think I’ll go for the Japanese option tonight. I had cereal this morning.”

“That shouldn’t stop you.”

Wally rolled his eyes and got out one of the disposable bowls they should probably not be using in a microwave and started on his food. As he and Dick watched the opening credits for the most recent cheesy romcom tv show Dick had gotten addicted to, Wally wondered if Kori was really going to be the one. The one was going to some eventually, obviously, but how soon was that going to be?

The actual one only showed up a month later, after Dick and Kori’s civil breakup. By Civil, Wally really meant explosive by anyone else's terms, but for Dick this was like a beautiful kiss goodbye.

Of course, Dick always ended up good friends with his exs and his exs’ new partner. There was even a joking group chat with them all, with one being added each time Dick made up with his most recent breakup.

But at the start, his breakups were always messy. And Dick, in turn, became messy for at least a week afterwards.

He stumbled into the apartment that night, obviously recovering from a hangover caused by morning drinking with Roy, a new set of hickies around his neck and a hand in his disheveled hair.

“It’s a Monday, Dick,” Wally pointed out, barely glancing up from his homework.

“I’m honestly over caring,” Dick snapped a bit, chugging down one of Wally’s protein shakes from the fridge. Wally didn’t react, either to the snipish behavior or the obvious disturbance of personal property. He was used to this. Trying to point out a mistake to Dick or tell him what was good for him automatically set off that same defensive part of his brain that came into play while fighting with his father.

“So who were they?” Wally asked, referring to the hickies.

Dick hummed in though, looking down at himself, “The older ones from last night are from Helena, Babs’s other bandmate. The newer ones were courtesy of Little Wing’s friend Artemis. I think she’s related to Donna somehow?”

“No follow up dates?”

“Shut up,” Dick snapped again. His expression softened after as he sighed, taking another sip of the protein shake and putting it back with the mercy of leaving at least half for Wally’s nighttime run. “Sorry. Just tired.”

“I can tell,” Wally said levelly.

As he watched Dick fall back onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow, he let a common thought when it came to Dick’s breakup cross his mind.

He always does this to himself. Subconsciously on purpose.

It wasn’t Dick’s fault. He had been like this as long as Wally could remember, and probably even longer than their friendship had been in place. The cycle was a vicious one that Dick had had on repeat since he was fifteen from what Wally knew.

Crush hardly, love wholly, hurt deeply.

Fall in love, get in a relationship, torture self when it ends.

Wally knew what a self destructive man looked like, and Dick was definitely one. It ran in his family based off of what he had seen of his father, Jason and Cassandra.

“I called in an order for pizza,” Wally informed him, looking back to his laptop. “It should be here in an hour. Got a new movie too while I was at the store that I think you’ll like.”

“Did you get ice cream?” Dick asked, muffled by his pillow.

“Three different kinds and a bottle of cheap wine.”

“You’re a saint.”

Once Wally finished the first draft of his thesis and the pizza arrived, the both crawled down to their little cozy spot in front of their tv that sat on the ground.

The movie was shitty. Most of the ones dick liked were, but Wally still loved watching them with Dick. This particular movie was a hallmark movie from the early 2010s, which should say enough about the plot alone, and it was Dick’s perfect brand of sappy that hit a little too close to home where the girl realizes her boyfriend was shitty and she belonged with the gymnast heart throb with a heart of gold.

“Hey Wally,” Dick whispered as the main character ran into the arms of her true love.

“Yeah?” Wally hummed, leaning back into Dick’s hand where it was gently scratching at his head.

“What’s wrong with me?” Wally wouldn’t have even heard him if he weren’t leaned back on his chest. He didn’t freeze, but his mind did stutter for a moment. He was shocked when he subtly checked the wine bottle to see it was completely untouched.

“What do you mean Dickie?” he asked, glancing up only for Dick to nudge his head back down to face the tv.

“You know what I mean,” Dick said. “What’s wrong with me? All these people in the movies, all of my exs and friends, it only takes them one or two tries before they find the one. Why can’t I?”

Something wet dripped onto Wally’s head as Dick pressed his nose into his hair. He was only slightly shaking, but Wally could still feel it at every point of contact.

Wally got up, gently fighting past Dick’s refusal to let him go too far and turned to face him. He leaned forward on his knees between Dick’s legs and cupped his face, stroking away the small streams of tears.

“Because you want someone who loves you,” Wally answered, staring into those deep, pain filled eyes. The pain he saw there he recognized, maybe not as his own, but still as familiar. A deeply rooted self depreciation that offered no room for growth.

“That doesn't explain why I go out every day when I’m alone looking for someone new,” Dick defended, more tears falling. “It doesn’t make sense, Wally. Wanting love doesn’t explain this mess.”

“It does, Dick. You’re so obsessed to find someone to love you because you can’t love yourself,” Wally knew he was crossing a few lines by saying this, but he couldn’t stop himself. IT was obvious in the way Dick found his identity in the people he loved. His family, his friends, and above all else his long list of past lovers for however long they lasted could testify to that. Dick looked like he didn’t want to believe what he was hearing and was more confused than ever. Wally took it as a sign to elaborate.

“You constantly go out looking for these boys and girls because you want them to love you enough that you forget how empty you feel. It’s not your fault, it’s just the way you and your family work. You don’t think you deserve love, but you can't stand yourself when you’re without it.”

“Wally,” Dick’s voice broke and hitched, his face flooding with the horror of how on point his words were. Tears spilled faster than before, and Wally leaned even further forward to wrap his arms around his friend. He tangled his fingers gently in his hair and rhythmically rubbed his back, letting him cry it out on his shoulder.

“You’re wrong,” Dick said, voice wet and heavy with his tears.

“How am I wrong?” Wally whispered, barely a breath against the nape of Dick’s neck.

“It’s not- the only- reason,” Dick’s voice broke up with soft sobs.

Wally held him a little tighter, rocking awkwardly back to sit on his legs as Dick moved to his knees too without breaking any contact. Dick was leaning more into him now, and Wally silently prayed he wouldn’t fall back with the weight into the that was now playing the ending credits,

“It’s because I love someone else,” Dick sobbed miserably. “I love someone else, but they don’t deserve the mess I am.”

“That’s not true. It’s just what your brain wants you to think,” Wally shook his head.

“It is true,” Dick was barely audible over his heart wrenching sobs. He clung to Wally tighter, his fingers digging almost harshly into the back of Wally’s shirt.

“It’s true because it’s you. You’re the one.”

Wally froze this time, his breath completely stopping.

How many times he had dreamt of Dick saying those words, and none of those dreams happened like this.

Wally regained his composure as quickly as he did everything else in his life and was back to comforting his roommate.

“It’s okay Dickie,” he said, pressing a ghost-like kiss to his hair. “You’re the one too. You always have been.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won't. But we are going to get you help, okay? You need help Dick, and that’s not a bad thing. It’s normal to need help.”

“Are you going to call my dad?” Dick asked pitifully, the sobs dying down to sniffles.

“Maybe. If that’s what you want. We will talk about it in the morning when you’ve had more rest.”

“Okay.”

Dick went quiet for a moment then spoke again, “Hey Wally?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s easier to love myself when I’m with you.”

Wally didn’t say anything in response. He just kissed his head again and rocked them back and forth until Dick fell asleep.

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