#(she goes first LOL she's important!)

[snowblossomreads]

Day 12: A Missing Gift (Missing Star + Giver of Gifts)

Pairing: Sinclair Bryant x Amiee Huang (OC)

Summary: In where Amiee plays hostess to a party while Sinclair is missing. She learns later why he was gone for so long.

Tag(s)/Warning(s): mean jokes, defending loved one, kissing, hidden relationships, food(lots of food), gift giving, feelings of unworthiness, fluff and love!

Word Count: 5.4K (Sinclair's getting spoiled I know 😌)

A/N: Heheh so this story takes place before the events of The Art of Entangled Hearts which ,you can read here (come on i know u want to read it) . This little fic is just sweet fluff between these two and a little surprise awaits at the ending 🥹.

Disclaimer: Any resemblance to any person living or dead is just coincidence 🤣🤣 (it's not) Enjoy lovelies!

There were about 15 or so people, including Amiee, mingling in the spacious living room of Sinclair's flat, which resided on one of the top floors, in a luxury apartment building, in Manchester's city centre. All sorts of folks from work had come to the little, or more accurately rather larger dinner party he was throwing for the upcoming holidays, ready to gossip and drink fancy wine and champagne till their heads spun.

It was the weekend after all, and why not indulge, especially if you weren't paying for it. Most of the people there were from different departments though, she recognised two or three of them from her own. She was sure that they knew Sinclair, as everyone who ever met him could attest that he was hard to forget, and even harder to avoid once he took a liking to you.

Speaking of Sinclair.

"Amiee where'd ya say our office puppy went to?" Millie, who she had learned was a lawyer for the company asked as she sat down next to Amiee with a drink in hand. "I know he has a habit of being late, but to his own party? That's a new one even for him!"

"Honestly he's hopeless when it comes to time management, it's the reason he's always in the office so late sometimes," Amiee mused as she took a sip of her own drink. "He said he had some last minute things he needed to pick up and then left me to supervise if he didn't get back on time."

"Oh of course he would! Men I swear," she snickered, though there was amusement in her voice as she spoke. "Well, it's not too bad of a mess. I mean there're drinks and some amusing company I guess. Though, I wonder what's got him so tied up. Maybe he's gone back to the office?"

"Haha, I don't mind.” She actually did mind, even if it was just a little bit, but that wasn’t the point. “And I doubt it. Sinclair wouldn't miss a party, especially his party. He enjoys the company too much," Amiee continued as she fell into a comfortable conversation with the lady. "But," she added, covering the side of her face, and leaning over like she was telling a secret to Millie who was also leaning in to hear. "If he doesn't show up soon I'm liable to just start eating the food without him. I'm starving!"

Both women let out a laugh drawing a pair of eyes towards them.

"Be careful," Millie snorted bringing her drink to her lips. "That's probably a sackable offence when it comes to him. Can you imagine him coming back and all the food is gone?"

"It'll drive him mad for sure! I'm pretty sure we be his mortal enemies if we ever did that!" Amiee cackled doubling over in laughter at the thought of Sinclair marching everyone out of his flat because they had eaten all the food.

It was honestly easier to imagine than one would think considering who they were talking about. That man took his meals seriously!

"A sackable offence to who? Who are we talking about ladies?"

The voice of a man interrupted the two women, who looked up to see a red-faced middle aged man approach them and before he got near, Amiee could hear Millie hiss a soft,

"Not this dickhead." Before leveling a nasty glare at him.

He was a bit wobbly on his feet as he waddled up to them, and it was clear he was going to need to be cut off from the drinks soon in case he got too plastered before dinner was served.

"Bugger off won't you Williams? Can't you see me and our hostess are talking?"

As if he didn't hear her, Williams, whom Amiee didn't know, yet already disliked immensely, seemed to ignore the request to leave them alone, instead doing his best to join the conversation he wasn't wanted in.

"Aw come on Mills be nice," he crooned causing the blond woman's face to twist in disgust at the nickname as she looked away from the man. "Amiee isn't it! Still no sign of our friend Sinclair huh? Chaps probably lost somewhere staring at some billboard that's got him interested. Sometimes I don't think that man is all that there," Williams thought out loud as he tried to sit in the small space between the woman.

This only caused him to almost sit on Amiee's lap causing her to yelp and scoot to the opposite side of the sofa but not without her snapping at him with a,

"Hey watch it!"

"Sorry as I was saying," he continued, not paying any mind to the women who clearly did not want him to be there. "Brilliant at numbers but he's kind of odd fellow don't you think. Talkative too."

"Is that what we are calling people who are interested in a lot of things now? Because honestly I rather be friends with someone like that. Even if he is talkative, at least he has something of value to say, unlike some people," Amiee spat, still annoyed at the sudden appearance of the man and, the apparent audacity he had to insult Sinclair in his own home.

"Millie, what do you think?"

"Oh, absolutely. There's never a dull moment when Sinclair is around though," Millie paused to give the unwelcome guest a dirty look that was clearly telling him to piss off yet he stayed. "I can't say the same when it comes to some people."

The man seemed to be unaware he was nearing dangerous territory with the thinly veiled insults that he was hurling at Sinclair. And if he wasn't, well it was about to be made clear that he had overstepped.

"I mean he's a fine man, brilliant. But you have to agree he's a bit, I don't know, he seems off his rocker sometimes when he starts rambling about all those facts up in his head. It’s bloody weird!"

This had Amiee glaring at the man fiercely as he seemed to have realized what he said had crossed a line.

"No, I don't agree actually!" Amiee seethed lowly, her face hot from anger and her cheeks flushed, but not from the drinks.

Her ferocity seemed to catch both Millie and Williams off guard and had anyone else heard her, she was sure it would have caught them off guard to.

"It's fine if you don't like him, but if you're going to just insult him in his flat, at his party why even show up! If it bothers you so much, how about buggering off like you were asked to. And preferably out of here altogether."

Everyone seemed petrified for a moment as they all took in the way she had just told this man off. Someone she didn't know but already never wanted to meet again, especially with how he talked about Sinclair, who was goodness personified to her.

He had flaws like any other human being, but she wasn't going to stand for someone, especially someone supposedly on good terms with him to speak about him like that. Drunk or not.

The air was a bit tense between the three, but it seemed like luck was on their side in a manner of speaking because not seconds later, the door to the flat opened, and Sinclair was walking in with a few shopping bags in hand and a grin.

"And look everyone it's the man of the hour," Amiee cheered as she jumped from her seat to get away from the uncomfortable situation, leaving Williams confused and Millie hiding her laughter behind her glass.

"Sorry sorry hello everyone! I got caught in traffic trying to get back with some more food and stuff for us!" Sinclair explained enthusiastically as he made his way into the flat, shutting the door with his foot and greeting everyone. "I should have known I get back late, but that just means everyone is already here!"

Amiee smiled as she approached him, happy he was still in his cheerful mood even with the delay, and with all the alcohol in people's blood, they seemed to just be happy he was here. With food of course.

Finding her in the small crowd, Sinclair seemed to brighten up even more as he walked over to her while boisterously announcing,

"Also everyone say thank you to Amiee as the unwilling hostess! She's wonderful to put up with me and my demands."

Her heart leapt, and she felt herself become instantly shy when he said that. The urge to ball up a little was strong as the attention turned to her for a few seconds when a chorus of thank you's and laughter filled the air.

Mortifying wasn't the right word, but she did feel self-conscious as she nodded and gave a little wave and smile to everyone. A soft 'you're welcome' left her before Sinclair was swooped in.

"Dinner in about 30 minutes! Hopefully faster though because I'm starving! I'm stealing Amiee away for help seeing she's already done a brilliant job at keeping you lot entertained. It's a hard chore!"

There was more laughter at his announcement, as he took Amiee by the hand and began to drag her away from the party. She happily let him to, ready to get a break from the crowd of people, and that one twat.

Dragging her down the hall and into the kitchen where they could only hear the chatter faintly along with the low music that had been playing, Sinclair kept his boyish grin as he put the bags of food on the counter before turning to the woman.

"Sinclair that Williams or whatever his name is an arsehole," she stated plainly when he looked at her, not giving him time to tell her how pretty she looked with her outfit.

She must have changed when he left as she was now wearing a festive-looking red jumper blouse with a cowl neckline, along with a red headband that was adorned with a bow in her hair. Speaking of her hair, it had some more volume than it usually did which also looked quite good.

‘So cute.’  He mused in his head as he watched her brows furrow waiting for his response.

"Oh from the advisory board?" He asked nonchalantly as he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arm around her waist to hug her against him. She let out a hum as she hugged him back and deflated a bit in his arms already tired from a night that had only begun. "Oh, he's alright. He speaks his mind a lot even if it isn't the most popular thing. I think it's good to have different opinions even if they aren't said nicely. Though I do prefer them put in nicer ways no need to be snide."

"Sure, but sometimes you can have the wrong opinion and he was being snide," she snarked, as Sinclair chuckled and leaned down to press a kiss atop her head. "He decided to have a go at you before you came in and I let him know he could bugger off if he didn't like you."

"Was he drunk?"

That wasn't the question she thought she would hear.

"Yes I believe so," she answered, tilting her head up with a quizzical gaze at his question only to see amusement shine in his eyes.

"Darling you slagged off a possibly drunk man because he was mean to me did you?" Sinclair laughed in astonishment as he let go of her, only to find a pouty expression directed at him. "He probably won't even remember tomorrow, but it's lovely of you to defend my honour at a holiday party to someone you don't know. Hmm, I think it's the sweetest thing someone has ever done for me actually. Thank you Amiee!"

She sure hoped it wasn't the sweetest thing a partner had ever done for him, or she would need to talk to him about the people he had dated considering it was the least she could do. Granted she probably needed to have that pep talk too as she was no better.

Her pondering was cut short though by Sinclair who interrupted her with a cheerful,

"But also you look very pretty! I like the red on you! But red also makes me think of wine and stuff which reminds me that I'm hungry and I'm sure everyone else is!" He blabbered on as he turned towards the counter to begin taking food out of the bags. "Can you help me get all this food and stuff set up and brought out? Gosh, It seems like I'm making you do so much running around!"

The dizzying array of topics that he had just jumped through would have confused others, yet Amiee followed his train of thought perfectly, amused at how he related seemingly unrelated topics.

"Thank you 'Clair!” She beamed. “And yes, I will help you plate stuff. What kind of hostess would I be if I didn't?"

With a strong team effort, they unpacked the precooked food that he had bought for the party. Along with that, they also took things out of the fridge that had been premade and opened the oven to check on the food that had been in there staying warm.

Amiee only had to keep Sinclair from trying to eat one of the mini pork pies once. Though, when she had turned around for a second, he shoved a sausage roll in his mouth only for her to laugh at his puffed cheeks when he was caught chewing. He wasn't a very quiet eater, and it was very obvious by the sudden groan that he made that he had nicked something.

Once all the food had been plated on the fancy serving plates, and bags were tossed or stored -except one, that Sinclair said was for a surprise later. The only thing left was to bring all the food and plates out for everyone to serve themselves.

Giving each other approving looks, Sinclair leaned his head down as if he was looking for something on Amiee's side, only to find her lips being placed on his. He hummed in delight as they basked in the warm moment with each other, right before they would have to go back to being just good friends in front of everyone.

Oh, the woes of a hidden relationship.

They moaned as their lips hungrily clashed against each other, almost forgetting that someone could walk in and see them snogging like teenagers.

Pulling away, Amiee looked up at Sinclair before amusement blanketed her features.

"Sinclair here you have something on your lips," she giggled as she swiped at his lips with her thumb, trying to remove the lipstick that stained his thin lips.

He hummed as she rubbed it off before she gave him a pleased smile.

"Alright, ready to feed the hungry masses?" She asked as she picked up two different things getting ready to head for the living room.

"If by hungry masses you mean me? Then yes!" Sinclair answered enthusiastically, causing her to let out a loud laugh as she led them back into the front where people cheered as the food arrived.

The abundance of appetizers and small eats had been a hit, as everyone seemed pleased with the variety and the amount of things they could choose from. It came to no one's surprise, that there was such an abundance considering it was Sinclair hosting, and he was notorious for making sure there was plenty to go around.

Someone even complimented the egg tarts Amiee had brought, and Sinclair, once again, proudly proclaimed that she had bought them causing her to be back in the spotlight but just briefly. She would have to tell her mum that they were a hit like she knew they would be.

The party seemed to go on and on with everyone having a good time, and becoming more energetic after food was in stomachs. Someone even opted to do some mock karaoke to one of the Christmas songs that started to play, garnering everyone's attention and laughter.

Throughout the whole thing, Amiee and Sinclair would sneak looks at each other whenever he wasn't deep into a conversation, and both of them couldn't stop the smiles that grew on their lips when one saw the other.

They were hopeless. As it went on though, Amiee found herself tiring of the socialization as she had done enough for the rest of the year and some of the next. Her eyes felt tired, yet people seemed to be having fun still and Sinclair, the ever-energetic puppy, was in deep conversation with a group of three.

How he had the energy, she didn't know, but she wouldn't drag him out of his zone as she was happy to see him happy. But she needed somewhere quiet to recharge from all the noise.

So she made a decision. Surveying the crowd, she made sure no one was looking, and that everyone was talking to someone before she slowly made her way out of the lively room. If she didn't make eye contact no one would notice her.

'Amiee what are you doing you're not James Bond, this isn't a spy movie please act normal.'

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and it wasn't as if she wasn't well-versed in slipping out of crowded rooms. She was usually hardly missed in those kinds of gatherings.

The thought pulled at her heart a bit, and a frown briefly invited itself onto her lips before she quickly and quietly left the room. Once she was confident no one saw her, she kept moving down the hall until she was able to slip into Sinclair's dim bedroom, where the only light source was a lamp on his bedside table.

Cautiously, she closed the door behind her before letting out a sigh of relief.

"Freedom," she muttered to herself, as she padded towards the large bed and flopped herself face forward onto the mattress.

A long groan left her lips as she crawled on top of the bed sheets, and rolled herself onto Sinclair's side of the bed. Snuggling with his pillow, and inhaling the comforting scent that was him, she relaxed, happy to be away from the crowd just for a bit.

"Just rest my eyes for a bit, that should do it." She told herself as her eyes fluttered closed. "Just resting my eyes, that's it Amiee then you'll get up and go back and …yawn… be social."

Closing her eyes to rest them, she was unsurprisingly out like a light moments later.

It wasn't the noise that had awakened her, but the lack of it, as her bleary eyes opened to the dim room that was filled with silence. Getting her bearings together took a few more moments, and her sitting up took the same amount of time as she found herself more exhausted than before.

"Shit," she groaned as she wiped at her eyes to try and wake up. "Did I fall asleep?"

"You did!"

“Oh my god!”

Amiee shrieked, startled at the voice that suddenly came out of the en suite bathroom, which she hadn't noticed had its lights turned on.

Coming out of the room with a white t-shirt, and a pair of cozy joggers that hugged his hips just right, Amiee couldn't stop herself from ogling  Sinclair as he came towards her.

"I was wondering where you had run off to!" He started as he sat on the edge of the bed closest to her.

"God I'm sorry 'Clair," her apology was punctuated with a yawn that couldn't be stifled.

"It's okay! You looked so adorable sleeping that I felt bad about oh, uhm, what's that word you all use sometimes," he thought for a moment before finding the word he was looking for. "Mither? Felt bad if I mithered you?"

His attempt to use the local slang made her giggle, as it was so odd to hear anything but his posh upper class London accent.

"You wouldn't have mithered me at all, I would have gotten up, I was just dead tired talking to all those people," she explained while crawling over to his side and leaning her head on his shoulder. "Sorry love, I'll make it up to you at the next party that I know you'll be having."

"Which will be your birthday party you know. I still can't believe you haven't had one before that's absurd you deserve to be celebrated and I want to celebrate you but, you need to tell me where you want to have it."

"Sinclair no it's fine! Please don't make such a fuss about it.” She begged, wrapping her arms around his forearm and putting her chin on his shoulder which was accompanied by an endearing pout. “I don't mind really. It’s not a big deal for me to not have a party, just being with you during it is good enough for me."

"But it is a big deal because you were born and it makes me happy that you are here. And I want to celebrate my favorite person is that so wrong?" Sinclair asked, eyeing her with that longing look that he knew she was weak too. 

Ugh, how could she say no when he put it in such terms and looked at her like that. Damn him!

"No, it's not but, hmmm fine, let's make a compromise.” She offered which had him perk up just like a puppy hearing a door open or food being poured into a bowl. “We can have dinner somewhere but only with six people at the most, including me and you."

Hmm. Six people didn't sound too much like a party to Sinclair, but he decided he was happier that she was letting him do something special for her birthday to care. Plus it was her birthday.

"Okay! Deal darling a dinner party with six people it is.” He agreed energetically. “I'll let you be in charge of the guest list since it's for you. Let me know if you need help wrangling people. I do love people wrangling."

Of course, he did, though he usually didn't have to wrangle people, as he already had a magnetic and sunny personality that people were drawn to automatically.

Great, now she just had to find four people to celebrate within a week or two time. That was next week Amiee’s problem though, as Amiee of the present was tired and ready to just cuddle up into bed and snooze.

"Oh speaking of birthdays and holidays!" Sinclair chirped out of the blue now that her birthday event was settled. "I have a gift for you that I want you to have! It was one of the reasons I was late this evening, which sorry, but thank you for keeping everyone company. Everyone said you were lovely as a hostess!"

"Sinclair what did you buy me now," Amiee whined, as he scooted off the bed and headed to his closet to rummage for the item he had bought today. "You always buy me stuff you know, and you don't have to," she continued as he disappeared, and then reappeared in the room with a medium-sized rectangular box that was just a tad bit larger than his palm. "And it's always such pretty stuff that I hate I can't display at home because my parents and Angie would ask about it."

Walking back over to her, and sitting down, Sinclair grabbed Amiee gently as she wobbled due to the sudden motion of the bed dipping. Grinning at her, he leaned over to kiss her temple and then her lips, which she accepted with a soft noise as she leaned against him.

"I know, I know, but I saw it and it looked so cute and I thought of you because you're also very cute darling.” His compliment had her bashfully dropping her head and shaking it, as a sweet giggle left her lips that made him all the more enthused about giving her the gift. “But it also reminded me that you've never had a Christmas tree, or a Christmas topper for the tree! So I thought well this would be nice to put atop the tree this year instead of a star and you would also have a topper," he chattered happily as he handed the velvet box over to Amiee who apprehensively took it. "Plus I love being a giver of gifts, especially when I can gift you with things!"

The fabric of the box was so soft, and upscale that she wouldn't be surprised if he had paid the same amount for the box as the gift itself. It made her heart ache a bit only because while she was sure she would love it, there was guilt hanging around telling her she didn't deserve it. Making her feel bad that she couldn't reciprocate his generosity with her own.

He never complained about the gifts she would give him, even if they weren’t as luxurious as the ones he could afford to give her. Yet, he was always thrilled when she brought him something. And while she was sure he wasn't faking it, considering it was hard for him to fake emotions, she still felt a bit bad.

Noticing her hesitation, his hand fell to her lower back patting her gently as she played with the box in her hand.

"Go on darling," he murmured leaning over, and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Don't be shy open it! I want to see if you like it!"

Shooting him a timid smile, she looked back down at the box and took the top off delicately placing it down on the nightstand. In the box was filler paper, which she removed from the top only to find at the bottom a beautiful looking angel.

It had dark long hair, which had a golden crown made of flowers sitting atop its head. Brown eyes, with red paint on its lips, and golden angel wings that curved towards the front of the doll’s body. The dress it had on was a beautiful shiny red with golden flowers, and a red sash tied around its waist. The thing was absolutely gorgeous and Amiee was terrified of anything happening to it as she picked it up.

"An angel for my angel! She reminded me of you when I saw it!" He mused and it was so cheesy, but it didn't matter as Amiee was speechless at the gift and how sweet it was. She honestly would probably cherish it forever as she couldn’t take her eyes off the little thing. 

"Did you know angel toppers were the first ornaments people made by hand? Usually with straw because well it seemed like everyone used to have that long ago,” Sinclair rattled off. “We then started making glass ones just to put on top of the tree! Quite a long history for something so small."

"She's beautiful Sinclair," Amiee whispered so hushly that he hadn't heard her as he rambled on about the history of Christmas tree toppers that he knew far too much of.

Her fingers brushed the doll's cheek, which was smooth like the porcelain it was made from. And the satin, or whatever its dress was made of, was just as smooth and didn't snag like cheaper quality fabric.

She was so beautiful, and Amiee felt so silly when she felt emotion bubble in her throat as she looked at the doll. It was just a doll yet, it meant so much more to her than he could ever know.

"Thank you, thank you I love her so much," Amiee beamed leaning over and kissing Sinclair's cheek just in time to hide a tear or two that had slid down her own cheeks.

"Can we put her up soon?" She asked turning to the side to wipe her eyes and put the beautiful thing back in the box but not without admiring it some more. "I mean if you don't mind us changing what's on the tree already?"

A large smile shined on his face and he seemed to be on board with the idea considering that he was visibly vibrating with excitement. 

"Yes! Of course! We can do it tomorrow!" He exclaimed before looking at the clock and quickly correcting himself. "Well, later today actually but I think we could both use some sleep right?"

“Absolutely! I'm pretty sure my nap made me even more tired. But first I need to shower and get myself out of these clothes." She mumbled, remembering she had fallen asleep with her party outfit still on. "Mind if I steal a jumper for the night though?" She asked, putting the top of the box back on before getting off the bed to ransack Sinclair's closet for any jumper she could find.

"Oh wait I'll get one!" He suddenly shouted shooting off the bed and towards the closet, startling Amiee with how quick he moved.

It was those long legs of his.

"Here you go though darling!" He announced after a second of rummaging through the space before presenting her with another well-worn jumper that he had but not without adding, "if you could bring some of the ones you've nicked back it be great. I think I'm running low on them and I don't want to buy new ones. I could...but I like my old ones better more worn in you understand right?"

Brushing her confusion aside from his sudden rush toward the closet, her face turned warm at his ask before she let out a raucous laugh.

He was right though, she had stolen a few to keep for her own. She couldn't help it! They were comfy and she liked how his clothes drowned her smaller form. Also, they smelled like him and well…she liked snuggling in them when she felt down. But he was right, and for the sake of making sure he stayed comfortable, she would bring some of them back. Only some though because had to keep her inventory stocked up too.

"Hahah yes sir! Sorry, I’ll make sure to return this one and some of the others."

She saluted him before taking the article of clothing, and making her way to the bathroom for a nice relaxing shower. As she made her way to the bathroom, Sinclair gazed at her and kept watch until the door was closed and he could hear the spray of water from the shower start. Once he was sure she was in the shower, he walked back over to his closet where he had kicked a little black bag over so she couldn't see it, had she followed him to grab the jumper.

Getting on his knees, he reached for it and dragged it into the light before pulling another velvet box out of it. This time it was a much smaller box than the one he had given Amiee and more octagonal. Looking behind him, he made sure she hadn't come out of the bathroom, and when he was confident she wouldn't pop up, he opened the box to gaze at the ring that was sat cozily inside.

A beautiful rose gold band with a tracer attached to it. It had an oval garnet center that was surrounded by a halo of diamonds which were themselves surrounded by a diamond shape that had the same jewel in it. The jeweler had said it was a north star design when he picked it and he immediately thought it perfect for her.

He had gotten the call it had been delivered to the store before the party and he decided to fetch it considering he be out anyway. It was quite worth being late for the festivities, and he hoped that when it was time to use it, she would agree when he told her. Grinning at it, he closed the box and stowed it along with the bag somewhere a little more discreet while thinking about the moment he would present it to her. 

It was the only thing he could think about the rest of the night, and even more so when they were both cuddled in bed after her shower. Amiee’s head rested against Sinclair’s chest, and his arms were wrapped securely around her small frame as she fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. He hoped that this would one day be an everyday occurrence, and as he turned the lamp on his side off he couldn’t help but kiss the top of her head with a soft murmur of,

“I love you, sweet dreams angel.”

A/N: 🥹🥹 if you've read the story this ending may be bittersweet but i promise these lovebirds will be happy! thanks @renee561 for the angel topper idea it was so cute i couldn't resist not using it 😘 I hope this gave some warm fuzzy feels!

Also the ring inspo.

Tag: @deepperplexity , @mercurial-make-em-ups , @ringaroundthetown

[sailforvalinor]

Do you think 10 would have had as big a connection to Rose without the foundation of Nine's background/relationship with her? I think they still would have been close, but I don't know if it would have gone AS fast or been AS open without Nine. just because he did love Rose so much and I think a lot of that carried over into 10. I mean 10's looks came about specifically because of how 9 thought she'd want her S/O to look!

Oooooooh excellent question. Short answer? No, at least not right away—but their chemistry is just so electric that I feel like it would have gotten there, given more time. (Also I’M SCREAMING I knew people said that but I didn’t realize it was actually CANON AAAAAUUGGHH)

Long answer, it raises the question if Ten would even be the same person without Nine and Rose’s relationship. This is kind of dipping into my own still-forming opinion on how the Doctor’s regenerations work (as I understand it there are differing opinions on how it works in-canon anyway), but Ten was created by Nine sacrificing himself for Rose—Ten is almost quite literally a manifestation of Nine’s love for her, which is why Rose is integral to Ten’s identity, even when she’s lost. It’s her name that keeps him fighting. It’s her influence that informs his decisions, even when she’s not there. She’s his center of gravity.

Honestly? I’m not sure Ten would even be Ten without meeting Rose, even disregarding the fact that he probably wouldn’t have gone through all that character development and healing without her (or at least in the same way). Especially given what you mentioned about his appearance, I like to think that Ten is Nine’s love for Rose blasted through a megaphone. Tenrose without that foundation just doesn’t work.

[hungnitan]

Penacony TB 2.0 Impression

Contain very heavy spoiler so don't click keep reading below if you don't want to get spoil (JP DUB)

I won't talked too much about story here since everyone can read them

Story Impression

I don't know if I miss it but has anyone explain the graveness of someone dying at dreamscape ? From some side mission, I think it's just they will comeback to reality ? So why at TB they made us think like we died for real ?

I only can hopefully think hoyo will explain it at later date ! If not, then it's just Xianzhou Luofu things again...

But I quite like the course of story so far despite above and the fact it's very similar to Flamechaser premise of story. I think anyone who play HI3 should notice these. As now the premise are grouping a very range personality people together in same place -> kill them one by one -> spreading distrust to MC and yeah those same premise already happened in Flamechaser stories...

Remember seeing this flamechaser editing pict ? With current story, I guess it shouldn't be that far with changing March7 to Sunday and now hoyo just killed 2 person easily and with Misha get mentioned too much in 2.0 I can't push him away from picture~

And with just 2.0 aside Family will doing something fishy, I can't grasp the main problem at Penacony plus (literally) everyones have their own morally gray goal which make things complicated especially someone like Sparkle which doing things just to make it interesting or Acheron basically hunt injustice equally.

2.0 Important New Character

Firefly, I kinda had Yuuki SAO impression from her so I can't even sad she's gone since I already know the very same "someone terminally ill dive into dreamscape-like to extend their lifetime" premise (plus she still hiding something important even for Sparkle came to us disguise as Sampo lol) but wow hoyo really kill her in brutal and clean way...

It's just this pict hit my heart of course if she's really dying later don't know though

Aventurine, his JP VA Kengo Kawanishi doing a good job voicing him as calculated tricky but bit mellow person. At most scene I'm suspicious of him since he's sounds very similar to Akira Ishida (but his "my friend" line keeping me laugh lol) but one thing I'm sure after read 2.0 about him is he will become a important character even in future version. Why ? He's having too many background mentioned scene

(1) This "Sigonian" bloodline things get mentioned at two scene, other one from Sparkle after made a comment about his unusual eyes. Seems that bloodline connected to his other form~

(2) This one too direct line came from Ratio (lol) saying about he's just a slave to IPC which he brush it lightly

(3) But weird enough when he talked about his family, Ratio suddenly apologies. It still too early to say this but maybe ten stoneheart are all extinct people got taken/buy by IPC

What's more, just what's happened at the end of stories ? Same like Firefly case with Sam, we can't conclude that Aventurine killed Robin with that scene... fyi, these scene too moreless same as Flamechaser story and in the end suspect isn't killed anyone lol

Why only those two ? So far Acheron and Black Swan only become our bodyguards (lol), Sparkle playing around us in her own interesting ways, Ratio isn't doing things too drastically to us he's too busy to wipe his wife sorry ass lol but those people seems have same purpose, keeping eyes on us in this point too is same like Flamechaser story lol

PS : I kinda had some nauseous a bit while playing at 3d maps but so far it's very fun, I need another weeks for all complete I guess. Well, I had Genshin too but the maps itself really big and too many side things to do (I already saving 15 side mission after exploring half of Penacony)

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya most definitely made at least one joke about how bc Addie and Elzer helped keep him alive during Luc’s Adventurous 4yrs Adventures Abroad, he was gonna make himself their problem.

Addie will never forget to bring up he has yet to make good on his threat every time he visits.

[gideonisms]

I can't read the aj book reviews on goodreads though because I feel like people collectively did not get that the gender thing was A) in service to her other themes not the entire point of the book B) not a girlboss everyone's a woman now thing either

[sinterblackwell]

me getting an email that my package was delivered so i happily skip down the stairs because i figured it was the special edition of mdzs that i preordered online, only to see a very flat parcel on the front porch that definitely isn’t a book. maybe it’s the extra fanart associated with tthe special edition that just came in before the book??? MAYBE??

it’s labeled with a message that says “extremely urgent” so it’s something important, but i didn’t order express delivery for this book…..what else can it be then?? it has my name on it so let me just open it and se—

MY PASSPORT(?(?)))?/)/€:&,&:8:829292915161

[azlrse]

➳ the headwardens as fathers (twst x gn!reader headcanons; separate)

cw: 'a decade later' au, fluff, accurate/canon take on the houswardens' background, angst in some parts (mostly on vil and idia's part)

a/n: decided to post this just to practice the characters as accurate as possible. also, imma be writing some of the housewardens for the first time soo i hope it's good lol

Riddle Rosehearts 🌹

due to his upbringing, riddle can be strict towards his children, whether it's from their grades and their studies alone since he believes that one's studies are very important to a child's future.

but not all the time riddle is like this. as a father, he only wants what is best to his children and refuses to treat them the way their grandmother does to him in his childhood. he even encourages them to take a certain career his kid wants. do you want to be a musician? he can buy his kid an instrument they've always wanted. not a musician but instead a baker? he can tell their uncle trey to give them private lessons to be the best baker in the queendom of roses.

there are certain times the two of you are arguing over a punishment. riddle knew rosabella punched a kid (he had flashbacks when her godfather punched him) stole her tart and decided that his kid will be grounded for a week. you, on the other hand, rebutted that she only did it out of self-defense and that's the last tart she had. this goes on back and forth, even for an hour, and her punishment reduced to 2 days minimum. rosabella didn't like that but at least it's better than to stare at books for a week straight.

riddle is the type of father to teach his children magic early on. not because it's enforced by his mother but because he just wants them to use magic in case of emergencies and for them to have an advantage to their education. he encourages them so much that he offers them sweets and strawberry tarts if they make it through their lesson.

overall, riddle's just protective over his children and knows what's best for them but at the same time is strict towards them.

Leona Kingscholar 🦁

leona didn't expect to have his own children, especially to the prefect of ramshackle dorm who's grown into a sophisticated and loving adult.

he's the type of father to teach his children the concept of fairness. he doesn't want them to have the same upbringing as he had in his childhood and growing up to have an inferiority complex. leona also embedded to them that one's hardwork can signify what kind of a person are they, especially that they're royalty.

when it comes to his children, he's deep down a girl dad but nonetheless loves his children equally. leona loves spending time with his kids, especially when taking walks around sunset savanna or taking them to ivory springs.

his parenting style can be permissive sometimes but thanks to your constant nagging, he steps in to reprimand them on what's wrong and right. sadly, he doesn't mind when his daughter & son can be demanding sometimes but is behaving very well when it comes to you (thanks to the 'stare' you enforced into them in their childhood).

like riddle, leona also helped his children in terms of their education, he might pull a string or two in order for them to attend a really good school. after all, they don't want the crown prince of sunset savanna and a father to be disappointed, right??

Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

hands down, the type of parent who wants his children to pursue the field of finance and marketing. no buts or ifs, he really wants them to pursue such career so that they can take over the business someday when he and their uncles are retiring.

there could be a possibility that his children are half-merfolk since you are human. hence, you and azul wanted to teach your kids both cultures, whether it's on land or water. he can be self-conscious and scared towards his children on the possibility that they inherited his octopus form. what if they didn't like the said form? what if they're being teased because of their body shape? what if they despised it so much that they wished their own father was a merman instead of an cephalopod? you reassured him that the both of you will teach them the importance of self-image and self-love.

speaking of their seaforms, azul is the type of father who will cry when his kid swam on their own for the first time (equivalent to a toddler taking their first steps). it doesn't matter if they're a late bloomer when it comes to their seaform, azul is still proud on the progress his children obtain.

every birthdays & anniversaries or any special occasions are held within the beach. imagine his parents swam on the surface of the ocean just to see their grandchildren. they would gush about how cute their grandchildren were, especially when they're still a little chubby baby.

heavily encourages his kids to fight back just in case they're being bullied by their peers. he's the kind of dad to call them in his office, not to scold them but praising on how they beat up that kid in a pulp (thanks to their uncle floyd ig--)

Kalim Al Asim 💛

husband material + loves children = THE BEST FAMILY MAN OUT OF ALL THE HOUSEWARDENS AND HUSBAND MATERIAL # 1.

probably the type of dad who loves spoiling his children rotten and sometimes gives into their demands but at the same time likes to teach his children the concept of hard work. after all, not all the time everything is handed to them on a silver platter (albeit to their father being raised on a silver spoon).

undoubtedly wants more than 5 children, whether they're biological or not (but will not push through if you are uncomfortable with the idea). this guy is raised having 30+ siblings so it's understandable why he wants that many children and having a huge family.

as usual by kalim, every achievement earned by his children, in academics, extracurriculars or birthdays, holds a grand & extravagant celebration. won the regional spelling bee? a celebration must take place! oh, you hold second place on a swimming completion? here's a parade to celebrate such occasion! a birthday party? that's too plain, how about a 3 day celebration for the birthday kid?

low-key his children would let out an 'aww' when they saw their father kissing you :'33

like leona, kalim would take on a bit on a permissive parenting style since he would give into the demands of his children and saying no makes it difficult for him to say in front of them. thanks to your talks and reprimanding him, he learned to say no directly into them and chose to cool down their tantrums before talking to them again.

Vil Shoenheit 💎

idk how to write vil accurately soo im really sorry if this one sucks and comes across as out of character ;_;;

out of all the housewardens, i believe that vil can be really strict when it comes to his children's appearances but also cares sm for their well-being and is fiercely protective of them. he believes that his children are the splitting of him and his lover (you ofc) plus he's a celebrity and a model so that adds to the fuel on why his children's appearances are really important.

most of his children confided on you on how suffocated they felt due to their father's demands and high standards when it comes to beauty. how they cried, begged and asked you if you still loved them even if they're covered in scars, acne or having oily skin. you reassured them that you and their father loved them so much, much to the children's happiness in hopes that they're father can be less controlling.

of course, you talk about this to your husband regarding this issue and vil can understand the children's point of view. he doesn't want them to be bullied, to be teased or being compared to him since they're the children of the biggest celebrity in the industry. he also promises that he'll talk to the children and apologizes for making them miserable.

on the fluffier side, vil loves spending time with the kids. going shopping or having photography sessions are some of the examples and heavily adores them when his children are being made to be endorsers/models on a children's brand of clothing. when his daughter asked him for tips when it comes to make up, vil didn't hesitate to teach her the basics (also buys her the make up brands she really wanted).

teaches his children the importance of fighting prejudice towards gender norms. vil is the type of father to accept that kind of future his children chose for themselves and does not give a shit when it comes to people's opinions on them; his son wants to wear make up? sure why not, he also wears one during his time as a student in nrc. his daughter wanted to crossdress? why not? it's just clothes and at least she's not waking around naked.

Idia Shroud 💠

to those who voted on the poll and answered idia, ya'll deserve a pat cause he won 😭🙌

as much as i love idia shroud, idia is the houswarden that's least likely to become a father due to his trauma and fucked up family dynamic but what if he does become a father with the only person that he loves and is comfortable to be with?

hands down a helicopter parent fr, like this guy suffered so much that he didn't want his own children to go through the same fate he had in his childhood. man even prohibits his kids to go out w/o telling him first but also values his children's privacy in terms of their gadgets and other private stuff.

when his kids were born, he knew straight up that the kids inherited his flaming blue hair due to his cursed bloodline (and prays that his kids won't hate him for it) but loves it when he saw their (e/c) eyes for the first time (at least his kids looked like the combination of the two of you). aside from that, ortho's excited to become an uncle and wants to be the cool kind of uncle to his brother's children.

as always, when his children were a bit older, he wanted to teach them the basics of coding and video game development. being the children of the director of styx and a professional gamer, he expects his kid to be as good as he is in these kinds of field. if his kids wanted to pursue a different path as he is or a different hobby, he doesn't mind at all but is disappointed to say the least.

due to the shroud curse, at least one of the children has to take over styx when they're now at age sadly. as a father, he really wants them to pursue a future without revolving around in his family's business but they couldn't avoid it.

doesn't care how much his children spent on things due to an immense wealth his family holds. don't be surprised his children's rooms were covered in merch of their favorite video game or fandom. he heavily supports his children having the same passion as he is as a geek.

Malleus Draconia 🐉

HUSBAND MATERIAL #2 FRFRRR

if future malleus told past malleus that he became a father and the husband of the ramshackle dorm's prefect, it's either he'll pass out from happiness or becomes excited so much that he wants to confess his feelings in front of you.

a big family man, aside from his heavy duty as the crowned king of briar valley, he always set aside some time to spend with you and his children on the rose garden by the greenhouse of the castle. he also doesn't care what are the other fae's think about his own half-human faelets, he still loved that the kids are the creation of both of your love to each other.

speaking of the other faes, he will hear a thing or two about children of their ages making fun about their half-human characteristics like having rounded ears instead of pointed ones like their own father. like vil shoenheit, he is fiercely protective about his children and would confront the kid's parents if the bullying had gone too far but he's a really forgiving father don't worry.

adding to the previous statement, his heart would break a bit when he knew either one of his children are either being excluded (preventing them from playing a game with the other kids or isn't invited to a birthday party).

the type of father who let's them sleep in the middle of the both of you when one of them had a nightmare. he can sense it when his children are in dire need of his assistance and wants to sleep beside the both of you for comfort.

really loves it when he sees his children playing on the throne room. he loves the noise they emitted comparing to the quiet and eerie noise the throne room before they were born. one of the playdates you and malleus joined with your children is about a roleplay involving a knight trapped in a tower while a dragon saved them and fell on love with each other. i would imagine them kissing in the final scene as the children gagged from the public display of affection.

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

[space-blue]

Disappointed in the Vander backstory

I fully expected that it was coming, but I'm disappointed in the timeline all the same.

The "Vander got upset because a fight against Piltover Silco instigated killed the woman he loved" was literally my first draft for my longfic Fathers and Daughters, and I ended up scrapping it because I felt it was too cheap and wouldn't justify the violence of his actions against Silco.

"When she died I lost my head" he says in the letter.

But when she died you actually dropped your gauntlets and picked up the girls and everyone has been assuming this was the moment you swore off violence...

The fact she goes on to let Vander name her kid, and seems to be thick as thieves with them, and ALSO tells them of the pregnancy before she builds up the courage to tell her partner... Tells me that surely... SURELY by the time Vi is 10-11, whatever she is on the bridge in season 1, she would KNOW SILCO as her mom's bestie, no??? Not just Vander.

It feels like this entire angle is pulled under the rug to simplify the conflict in act 1.

I do appreciate being right on the money with Silco knowing and being friends with the mom, and having known Vi as a baby. I think it makes sense, especially if he was an important community leader.

I just hate her death being the catalyst of Vander's actions against Silco. It means that the timeline actually like this:

Mom-Silco-Vander are best friends. Silco is "Bozo 1" and has been leading the transformation of the Lanes with Vander's help. He's already planning his nation of Zaun. His notebook is literally saying "NZ" for Nation of Zaun.

At an ONGOING confrontation with enforcers, Silco throws a molotov cocktails that doesn't seem to even kill an enforcer (Powder and her innefectual bombs parallel? The entire scene is intercut with the monkey bomb clapping so... The scene leading to a friend's death also parallels the events of Jinx's birth.)

As the smoke clears/the POV looks down, we have the reveal that the girls' Mom is dead.

Vander admits the blood was on his hands as well, meaning he either started this confrontation with Silco, or fought just as badly/increased the violence (and we see him murder enforcers later on). Anyway he admits to carrying the blame, and apologized in person to Silco for the dubbed "betrayal".

Then he went home, shaved, dragged Silco into the Pilt, and tried to drown him *because their common friend died at the failed uprising*.

He's then haunted, seemingly, by visions of Silco being dead:

To me it's sort of weaker and sadder, as it establishes Vander as someone more flawed and less ruthless. It's not that he wanted the Lanes, it's not that Silco was getting in the way of what he wanted.

Vander was out there happy with everything they were dishing out, right until their actions cost the life of a friend, and he broke, emotionally, and BLAMED it on Silco, going so far as to kill him (or try).

He surrendered his gauntlets, picked the children up, tucked them in at home, shaved (I cannot stress this enough), then took Silco into the fucking river and brutally attempted to murder him.

Then he massively regretted it and left little breadcrumbs of apologies in case Silco found them and returned to him.

So, canon couple, first off lol

Fellas, is it gay to hang your jackets inside each other's in your secret hideout? Is it gay that all your core hidden memories begin with your mate smiling at you?

Yes, yes it is. Zaundad is canon and I'm not taking commentary.

Secondly, that means Vander was an emotional ticking time bomb who wasn't ready for the price to sacrifice in order to gain their freedom. I really wonder what the alternative reality would have been like, were Silco the one dying on that bridge.

Anyway, it brings some twisted sadness to the situation, because the mom wanted Zaun "no matter what" for Vi's sake, her child's future. But Vander decided that lives weren't worth spilling over that dream and tried to kill Silco over it, before teaming up with Grayson to continue enforcing a status quo.

So that means that Silco, even as he raises Jinx, is continuing her mother's dream, of building Zaun, a country that's safe for her children, "no matter what".

But very sadly the show also acts like Silco doesn't know the kids, and like the kids don't know him. Powder, sure, but Vi not knowing Silco is just downright stupid. Not even knowing him by name? When her mom was out fighting alongside him??? The mom is ALSO a miner, very clearly working with Silco and Vander, alongside the nameless poor husband.

I feel like this doesn't really solve the issues that were already raised when we speculated about act 1. It just clarifies that Vander was truly, willfully a force of oppression inside the fissures, working against the revolution necessary for Zaun becoming possible.

But it implies Silco didn't recognise Powder and Vi, and that Vi didn't recognise him or understand how he knew Vander. It's a disservice to the story, because that tie, that old bond, could really have worked to dramatize the sacrifices Silco is ready to make, as well as the depth of Vi's hatred for him.

But the show acts like they're strangers and that Vander's death is the core beef between them until Jinx enters the picture.

And then there's the Benzo scene, when Vander holds his wound from Silco's knife, and says "we both know there's worse than enforcers out there" WHO ARE YOU FUCKING TALKING ABOUT??? Yourself? You seem to be the worst thing around here! It seems clear he knew Silco was alive but had nothing to blame him for by then.

I'm left with holes that take the shape of "shock value" and "plot twist".

"Ooooh Silco knew the mom, twiiiist, but please don't think about the implications, because we wrote season 1 without taking this in consideration."

Feels like another job for fic writers, but IDK if I have the strength for it. I just like my own version better.

At least now we know that Silco did not IN FACT DO anything to "deserve" what he got. I'm sorry, but throwing a molotov at enforcers when fighting for your freedom is based and Vander was dishing death right there next to him.

The base violence necessary for change, eh? Vander just delayed the price being paid for Zaun's creation.

[sotc]

as fun as it is to talk about the sillay crow family dynamics, i'm soo interested in what this means for the crow familia going forward in a darker lens.

im mostly speaking from the perspective of a rook de riva who romanced lucanis btw <3

illario brought the axe down on his own head after failing to take first talon. he's imprisoned except to play house whenever caterina wants to see him around for family dinners before tensions inevitably shove him back into the cage he's been left to like some house pet lmfao. it's actually kinda fucked up and as a certified sicko i love it. especially considering the casualness in which lucanis describes all of this. crows gotta be a little unhinged<3

But!!! while lucanis was right that illario's reputation is ruined forever as a traitor crow beaten to his knees before every house that doesn't exactly free house dellamorte either. Talon houses will want their pound of flesh of illario for nearly trying to put antiva under venatori control. and yet lucanis refused. house dellamorte showed mercy. they are breaking the rules, making exceptions. this is not how the crows operate and there should--WILL be retaliations for it. illario left this house bleeding in his attempt to claim first talon and their blood is in the water now with house dellamorte having a sole heir who blatantly exposed a weakness and seemingly has no lineage to take after him.

and nevermind that we know murmurs amongst the crows will linger about a first talon being an abomination. i know lucanis kind of handwaves it off as at the coffee date like 'there could be worst first talons' but baby boy, you have avoidance and denial issues this WILL become worse of a problem the longer it goes on. <3

more under the cut bc i didn't realize this was getting so long lol

but in comes fifth talon viago de riva. a bastard to the king of antiva who wants to strengthen the crown. a man who has been ruthlessly exacting and meticulous to get where he is now. and the scariest part is that he has ambition, always has, and knows he has more power than the king himself to make plays if he needs to. this makes for a dangerous (and sexy) combination. in comes his protege rook. casting silly family dynamics aside, viago knows this union between house dellamorte and de riva is extremely beneficial for both houses but also very dangerous. even he knows his ties to teia show a weakness in him that other crows may seek to exploit. and while i do think he may be sincere about wanting rook to find their happiness with lucanis as he has with teia - i truly think he will not shy from showing the importance of a 'political alliance/union' especially with first talon house dellamorte struggling from the blow after all is said and done.

and of course, by extension to de riva, house cantori and the beautiful lovely miss teia, will be extending her support to strengthen their houses but also herself from any opposition. as much as i love that she's kind of the heart that brings this fucked up lil familia together, i know she is just as cunning and clever to recognize what this alliance does for her too.

and caterina.. well, without going into a whole thought piece on her, she has built her (and her grandson's reputation) entirely to instill fear in others, even command enough respect to know she's the one running things while lucanis is just a stand-in as first talon. but what happens when caterina is gone? another dellamorte dead just like all the others. all lucanis has left is himself and his traitor brother. how does he handle illario? how does he fair being a leader to the crows when he didn't want any of this in the first place and no longer has caterina to guide him? how does he wish to pursue carrying the dellamorte legacy (if at all)? does he seek a protege of his own to take on after him? i can't remember who says it (viago or lucanis) but there's a line about how saving thedas will make their houses immortal (hot and very sexy) but also how far can that reputation protect house dellamorte, really?

i don't really have a point to all of this, this is all just stuff im simply chewing on and letting out into the ether because the ripple effect of repercussions with what illario did and what lucanis now has to deal with fascinates me SO MUCH.

[pathologicalreid]

for the fear of falling apart | part three

when it seems like a return to normalcy is impossible, you decide that something has to give, but will it bend or will it break?

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst content warnings: fear of drowning, therapy, mommy and daddy issues, sigmund freud, nightmares and ptsd, sleep deprivation, takes place during 15x4 "saturday" (max does not exist in this au), stalkers, yelling, police, domestic disturbance, broken dishes, severe self image issues, crying, implies that jj is sometimes not the greatest friend, marriage and marriage counseling, mentions the death of grace lynch, the chameleon arc, reader and spencer are both broken people sry. things get resolved (or do they?) word count: 5.13k a/n: i'm trying to come to terms with the fact that people will not like how this part goes, but i do think it's important to remember that this is not where it ends. it's probably easy to guess what episode I'm rewriting next. lol. let me know your thoughts and feelings because i am dying to know.

“Are you glad to be back at work?” Your therapist asked you, writing down your personal information on the form on her clipboard before she met your stare.

Chewing impatiently on the inside of your lip, you glanced over to the clock that was hung above the door, dooming you to another forty-five minutes with Dr. Harmon. “Yes, I love desk duty,” you told her, flashing a fake smile in her direction.

The older woman looked at you doubtfully, and you silently begged for her to sign your return to duty forms. “I thought we spoke about using sarcasm as a coping mechanism,” she responded in a way that made you feel chastised.

You raised your eyebrows at her, gray hair neatly combed into a tight bun, you had spent more time with your therapist for the past two months than you had any of your family – the rest of your time was spent retraining your body, usually within the limitations of your doctor’s orders. “And I thought we talked about there being worse coping mechanisms that I could be using,” you countered, leaning back in her chair.

She shrugged helplessly, “Well, I’m not sure about signing your release forms. You could be a liability in the field.”

Eyes widening, you tilted your head to the side, “No, no, no, I’ve grown a new appreciation for the desk workers in the BAU. I even stopped laughing when people refer to Agent Anderson as Grunt Anderson,” you informed her, nodding as if that would help convince her of your honesty.

Checking off a box on your form, she set the clipboard on her side table, just out of your view. Taking a deep breath, Dr. Harmon leaned forward and folded her hands over her knee, “Have you spoken to your sister since the last time I saw you?”

You leaned your head back, staring at the tiles of the ceiling as any hope of returning to the field left your body.

One of your very first dates with Spencer had been at the Academy’s shooting range, you had a lucky spot there, it was where you had aced your qualification as a cadet, and it was pure luck that it had been available when you arrived.

As your paper target was brought forward, you slipped off your headphones and set your weapon down, studying the results as you chewed on your bottom lip nervously.

“Hey,” Spencer said from behind you, casually leaning against the wall behind you.

You jumped slightly as the sound of his voice took you away from your anxiety, “Hey,” you echoed, holstering your weapon as you sent your target back for someone to change it out.

“I thought you were going to come to the BAU after therapy,” he explained, arms crossed in front of his chest in his charcoal suit, camouflaging himself with the steely gray of the shooting range.

Pursing your lips, you made sure you had your phone in your pocket before grabbing your bag, “I wanted to get some practice in before my requalification test.”

He looked surprised for a moment, “Did your therapist sign your return to duty?”

“No,” you muttered, knowing that you wouldn’t be eligible to take your firearms requalification until after you had been cleared by a psychiatrist.

Any surprise quickly left his face, “What did she say, then?”

You rolled your eyes, “She told me that it’s possible that my strained relationship with my parents is negatively affecting my performance in my sessions. Then she threw a Freud biography at my head.”

“Did you talk to her about the nightmares?” He asked, following you as you checked out of the shooting range, waving to a gaggle of cadets as they noticed the BAU agents in their general vicinity.

Faltering as you opened the door, you flung the glass door open and trudged out of it, “I have it under control,” you lied through your teeth, continuing your way to the elevator.

The tapping of Spencer’s shoes signified that he was following you, holding his hand over the sensor while you stepped in and using his knuckle to press the parking garage button, “You were up all night last night,” he retorted, “She could help you develop a coping mechanism that works for you so that you can get some rest, angel.”

You were getting tired of those words, “Well, maybe we’ll reach a breakthrough next week. You never know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being so unamenable,” he accused.

Shaking your head as you stepped out of the elevator, you hoisted your bag back over your shoulder, “Is unamenable genius-speak for pain in the ass?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is,” he retorted, swiping the keys out of your hands before unlocking the car and getting in the driver’s seat. You had been cleared to drive weeks ago, but Spencer still insisted on driving you.

You groaned, “My recent brush with death has made it difficult for me to let bygones be bygones.”

Pulling out of the parking spot, he carefully placed both of his hands on the steering wheel, “And here I thought we were actually going to move on with our lives.”

“No one holds a grudge like a youngest child,” you informed him, leaning your head against the window and wishing you had driven separately.

Being at home wasn’t much better than being at Quantico. You quickly changed and settled yourself on the couch while Spencer sat across from you, legs crossed in the wingback chair as he finished filling in a crossword book that you had started that morning.

You watched the clock tick, the diffused orange light of the sunset beamed through the curtains, and you felt yourself settle. Stiff joints and aching muscles unwound on the supple leather of the couch, and as you let your eyes fall shut, you felt the breeze of someone walking by before Spencer stopped in front of you.

Gently, he draped a knit blanket over you, tucking you in before crouching and dropping a gentle kiss to your temple.

Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now.

I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.

It’s okay. I’ve got you.

“Honey, wake up.”

You startled awake on the couch, wadding up the blanket in your fists as your eyes adjusted to the dim environment of the apartment. The sun had set, dipping below the skyline as you stared ahead.

Concerned brown eyes bore into you as you caught your breath, Spencer reached over and flicked on the table lamp next to you, “You’re alright,” he cooed, gently enough to make you want to cry. “It was just a bad dream,” he told you, cupping your cheek and studying your expression.

Nodding absently, you pulled yourself into a sitting position, the familiar knit blanket falling in a puddle around your waist. “I was in the parking garage again,” you preemptively answered his next question. You were usually in the parking garage, sometimes you were on the beach, and once you had been fully underwater.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

You shook your head and ignored the defeated look on Spencer’s face, instead burying your face in your hands and taking a few deep breaths.

He waited for a moment before speaking again, reaching out and adjusting the bunched-up fabric of your t-shirt, “Are you hungry? I made soup.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, crossing your arms in front of your stomach, afraid it would start growling at the mention of food.

As you watched Spencer get up and walk over to the kitchen, you let yourself feel like everything was alright for the slightest moment. You wanted your apartment to be your safe space where there were no serial killers or sisters or hospitals, but there was a classified file on the kitchen table, photos of you and your sister littered the walls, and there was an entire drawer in the home office dedicated to your hospital stay.

Melding into the couch cushions, you ignored the stiffness in your side, the scars that marred your skin were healed over, but the memory would stick with you for a lifetime. It felt like a phantom pain, irritating your skin whenever you thought too much about it, or whenever your therapist asked you about Grace Lynch.

It didn’t bring you a lot of comfort to know that she was dead, murdered by her own father after conning her ex-girlfriend into giving her money. Everett Lynch was the threat now, and you were stuck on the bench.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you rested your cheek on your knee as Spencer ladled soup into a bowl and presented it to you, complete with a few ice cubes to cool it down. He waltzed back into the kitchen to clean up when his phone rang.

You ignored his conversation while you stirred the ice cubes around in your bowl, the soft clinking of them mesmerizing your tired brain. You ate while he spoke on the phone, mentioning something about a case. Pushing any thoughts of serial killers away, you just ate your soup.

Sipping at the broth, you grew curious about what was going on over the phone, but you tried to mind your business, scooping at the last noodles in the bowl before setting it down on the coffee table.

“Who was that?” You asked, eyes following Spencer as he walked back over to the living room, slipping his phone in his pocket as he sat next to you on the couch.

He paused for a moment, and you immediately regretted asking, “Uh, it was JJ.”

You supposed it had to mean something that he elected to tell you the truth instead of lying to you, but you were no longer feeling optimistic, “Ah.”

“Don’t start,” he said immediately.

You turned to him, raising your eyebrows curiously and pushing yourself into the corner of the couch – away from him, “Start what, Spencer?”

Spencer put his hands up, “Picking a fight with me over JJ’s feelings. JJ, Tara, Luke, and Penelope are working on a stalker case, it’s nothing that we need to worry about.”

“I’m not going to pick a fight with you, I already told you that I forgive you,” you told him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He groaned in frustration, “You can say it all you want, but you haven’t. You haven’t forgiven me.”

As he usually was, Spencer was right, you hadn’t forgiven him for lying to you about what had happened between him and JJ. You wanted to. You wanted to find it in yourself to be the bigger person and just tell him it was fine. All you wanted was to move on, but you were crashing into roadblock after roadblock. “Are you going to work that case?”

“No, it’s a classic stalking case, they’ll make it without me,” he said, turning on the couch to face you.

You swallowed thickly, “You can go if you’d rather be there,” you reassured him, wondering if he’d be happier at work than at home with you. Someone needed to make a decision, someone needed to decide whether or not the two of you were going to keep going or if you were going to call it off. You didn’t want it to be you, you were afraid of which option you might choose.

Spencer frowned, “Why are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m not,” you answered.

“Yes, yes you are,” he challenged, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

Shaking your head, you threw your hands up in surrender, “You don’t have to go. You can stay here. You live here. Who the fuck am I to tell you to leave?”

“And now you’re escalating the situation,” he observed, straightening up and watching you carefully.

You didn’t consider yourself an angry person. The two of you didn’t fight often, but as you considered your options, you wondered if it could help. Maybe you could replicate the feeling of a good cry. Maybe all you need is a good fight. Just talk it out – loudly. “I’m not escalating anything. I’m not starting anything. In case you haven’t noticed, this has been going on for months.”

He had noticed, he could probably give you an exact date and time to point out when everything fell apart. Was it inside the pawn shop? Was it in the courtyard outside of Rossi’s wedding? “I thought we had made some real progress at the hospital,” he challenged.

Getting up from the couch, you took a deep breath and tossed the blanket over the back, “You cannot seriously think that. You’re too smart to believe that, Spencer. The idea that we fixed everything while I was hopped up on Xanax and painkillers. It’s… it’s…” you stumbled over your words for a moment. It’s crazy. You wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t do that to him. Spencer had spent his whole life having that word thrown at his mother, and he spent adulthood fearing he’d have a schizophrenic break. “It’s outlandish,” you finally finished.

Spencer looked up at you from the couch, “Is it outlandish to think that the history we have together would help mend our relationship?”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know, Spencer, let’s take a look at your history with my sister,” you snapped.

“Oh, come on,” he protested.

“No,” you commanded, “Sit down and shut up. I’ve spent months waiting for you to get it, but apparently, I need to spell it out for you.”

To your surprise, he listened, watching you in silence as you took a deep breath, picked up your soup bowl, and brought it into the kitchen. Your heartbeat pounded like thunder in your ears.

Standing in front of him, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “I want you to empathize with me.” You calculated every word you said, “We’ve known each other for nine years. We’ve been together for seven, and I- I had the rug pulled out from under me. God, you went on a date with my sister. You took her to a football game as a hater of organized sports. My beautiful, prom queen, soccer star, gem of the family older sister.”

“It wasn’t a date, Penelope went with us,” Spencer added patiently.

You peered down at him, “When you asked her to go with you, did you do it with the intention that you would be taking her on a date?”

His shoulders slackened, “Yeah,” he answered softly.

“And you know that she loves you. If you went to her right now and told her you wanted to be with her, that there’s a chance she’d consider it. She’d at least have to think about it,” you told him, confidence dissipating as your hands started to tremble and you silently begged yourself not to cry.

Spencer watched you suspiciously, “What gave you the impression that I want to be with her instead of you?”

You faltered, just for a moment, “Why wouldn’t you want to be with her?” You asked exasperatedly, letting your arms fall limply at your sides.

Pinching his eyebrows together, your boyfriend looked at you like you had grown a third eye, “She’s married? Her kids are my godchildren?”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you cursed yourself as tears stung your eyes, “Are those seriously the only reasons you can think of?” With all the brain power you knew he had, you couldn’t help but be disappointed.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, “Putting aside the fact that I’d be destroying a marriage, not because it doesn’t matter, but because being with your sister isn’t even something I’d consider. This might not have occurred to you, but I have absolutely no interest in being with someone other than you!”

You huffed, “Please, she’s beautiful and athletic and older and you’ve known her for fifteen years!” You shouted over your shoulder, making your way back to the kitchen. There wasn’t anything you needed from in there, you just needed to keep moving.

“But she’s not you!” He yelled from the couch, finally getting up and following you to the kitchen.

Spinning around on your heel, you threw your arms in the air, “God, I know!” You swung your arms down, accidentally sending the bowl you had set on the counter down to the floor, breaking on impact. “Shit,” you muttered, immediately dropping to a crouch and starting to pick up the ceramic shards.

“Hey, wait, let me get it,” Spencer insisted, grabbing a kitchen towel from the drawer before laying it on the floor. He carefully picked up the larger shards, waving your hands away.

You clenched your hands and glared at him with bleary eyes, “Why? Why am I not allowed to clean up the mess that I made?”

Spencer sighed, “You’re crying. I don’t want you to get hurt because you can’t see well,” he told you, prompting you to sit back on the tile and watch him continue to pick up.

You crisscrossed your legs and watched him, “I’m sorry for yelling,” you whispered, so quietly that you weren’t even sure he had heard you.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Spencer gathered up the kitchen towel and set it on the counter, setting his hands on the counter and taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry for raising my voice,” he echoed your sentiments. He moved to the hall closet to get out the broom, interrupted by a knock on the door.

Confused, you poked your head over the counter and watched as Spencer opened the front door.

“Good evening, officer,” he greeted, casting a sidelong glance over at you.

Fuck.

You scrambled to your feet, careful not to step on any pieces of the bowl that remained on the floor and wiping beneath your eyes as you made your way to the door, peeking around the corner to find two DC Metro officers. “Agent Jareau?” One of the officers said curiously.

“Hi,” you waved timidly, looking between the two of them with your tail between your legs.

He looked surprised at the revelation of who lived here, recognizing you from a case you had consulted on months ago. “We were called here on a report of a domestic disturbance, your neighbor in said she heard ‘a lot of yelling before there was a crash and then everything went quiet’.”

The summation of events did nothing to slow your racing heart, “We had uh… we were having a disagreement, and I knocked over a bowl. It was an accident,” you reassured the officer, reaching out and taking Spencer’s hand as a sign of good faith.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

You nodded in confirmation, “I’m really sorry about any inconvenience, but I promise there’s nothing to worry about.”

The DC Metro officers studied Spencer suspiciously, and you protectively moved in front of him. They were trained to see the worst-case scenario, but there was nothing happening here, “Well then, just uh… try to keep it down, I suppose.”

The two of you waved as they walked away, once the door was closed, you turned to face Spencer, “Are you alright?”

He looked a little pale, “I’m alright,” he nodded, gathering himself before going back to the hall closet. “That was weird,” he added.

Spencer’s interaction with police officers was limited to work with the bureau and his time in prison. He never had to explain an underage drunk person in the car or run when a party got too rowdy, but he wasn’t concerned with the confrontation, he was concerned that, for a moment, before you got there, those officers saw Spencer as a violent person. You stayed put, watching him sweep up the last of the bowl and take care of the sharp pieces with a keen eye.

“I’d never hurt you,” Spencer said softly, unnecessarily explaining to you.

You nodded, “I know. You’re not like that, baby. You’re not a violent person.” In fact, you had only seen Spencer aggressively violent one time in your life, and that was when his mother’s life was on the line. Stepping over to him, you lifted yourself so that you were sitting on the kitchen counter, meeting his eyes.

“She is not you,” he murmured, reaching out and taking both of your hands in his.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, your shoulders slumped ever so slightly, “I am well aware,” you offered.

He took a deep breath, “JJ would never ask me to recite Henry James to her or offer to go to the planetarium with me even after we spent all day on a case or sit through one of my lectures just to hear me talk about something I’m passionate about,” he began. "I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation about something I’m passionate about with your sister. Not one where she didn’t interrupt me or pawn me off on somebody else,” he told you, disconnecting one of your hands to wipe new tears from your cheeks.

“I- I’m not…” you breathed, overwhelmed as he sang your praises.

“I know you compare yourself to her,” he cut you off, “it’s normal for you to compare yourself to your older sister. I just didn’t know how lowly you thought of yourself until all of this was dug up.”

Frowning, you cocked your head to the side, “I do not compare myself to her,” you remarked.

He hummed in response, “It wasn’t up for debate. I’m not interested in your sister. I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone except for you. I am sorry that I never told you about the football game, but by the time you joined the team, six years had passed, and I didn’t think it was pertinent to tell you that your sister had rejected me. That is entirely on me, and I can’t change it. I can, however, spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

Your breathing hitched, and the ghost of a potential proposal once again floated through the air, it made your heart ache. “One of these days you’re going to have to actually ask me to marry you,” you whispered, not sure how much longer you’d be able to sit and wait while he neglected to act upon his words.

“What do you want right now?” Spencer asked, studying your facial expression.

You have spent three months being mad at him, and you had to believe it all came down to tonight. Neither of you could keep going with things the way they were. “I’m not sure,” you answered.

Patiently, Spencer inquired, “Do you want to break up?”

If you told him you hadn’t thought about it, you’d be lying. It broke your heart to think about ending things with him, to think that six years together didn’t mean something to the both of you. Spencer had never given any inclination that he was interested in anyone else, so maybe he should’ve told you about the football game, but you shouldn't have let your insecurities block any attempt at reconciliation. “No,” you responded truthfully.

He had tried, too. The one-sided conversations he had with floral bouquets, taking time off of work to help you while you recovered, and he had even limited his contact with your sister. “Do you want to go to couple’s therapy?”

You had heard through the grapevine that your sister was trying marriage counseling with Will, something about working on their communication skills. With that in mind, you nodded, “We can try it out.”

“Do you know what you want?” He asked, settling a hand on your thigh.

Through the sheer curtains, you looked outside, “I want to go,” you informed him, hopping off of the kitchen counter and to your shared bedroom, pulling on a pair of socks.

Confused, Spencer followed you around the apartment, “Wait. Where are we going?”

“I’m going,” you said simply.

He looked surprised at this, “It’s the middle of the night in the twenty-second largest city in the country, you’re not going out alone.”

You paused for a moment at his concern, watching the defeated look on his face morph into one of relief when you responded, “Then put your shoes on,” you encouraged.

As you waited by the door, mindful to not walk through the apartment with your shoes on, he stopped in your bedroom for a moment before coming back out and slipping his sneakers on. “Where are we going?”

Grabbing your keys off of the hook, you opened the door and held it for Spencer as he followed your lead. “You know at the start of Moby Dick when Ishmael says when he finds himself growing grim about the mouth and wanting to knock people’s hats off, he takes to the sea?”

He nods, taking the keys from your hand and locking the door behind him, glancing briefly at your neighbor’s door before handing your keys back to you, “I’m familiar,” he confirmed.

“Well, I’m feeling rather grim about the mouth,” you told him assuredly, slipping your keys into your pockets and slowly making your way down the hold staircase of your apartment building, listening for Spencer’s footsteps right behind you.

Even with your back turned, you knew his expression would be one of confusion, “So, you want to take to the sea?”

You quickly shook your head, the very last place you wanted to be was near a body of water in the middle of the night, “Not particularly, but maybe the park and some fresh air would do me some good.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he confirmed, stepping around you to hold the front door open so that you could walk outside, the cool night air stinging your face as you did.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at the night sky, the stars hidden through the city’s light pollution.

Upon reaching the park, which was just a small green space down the street from your apartment, Spencer led you to a cement bench, the two of you sitting down and sitting in silence. You welcomed the cold air filling your lungs, watching the fountain from a distance and admiring the way the headlights of a few passing cars reflected off of the water.

He kept a hand on your back, gently moving his hand up and down your spine as the two of you reveled in the startling nighttime peace. “I haven’t been fair to you,” you murmured nervously, looking over at him.

“None of this has been fair to anyone,” he reminded you.

You sighed, “JJ confessed her feelings, not the other way around, and I- I shouldn’t have held that against you for so long.” The admission came to you easily, holding your breath as you waited for him to agree.

Spencer’s silence worried you, but then he finally responded, “I probably would have done the same thing, but I don’t think it’s right for me to speculate how I would or wouldn’t have acted in your shoes.”

“I just… she’s always been perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect wife, the perfect agent, and I’m… I’m just me,” you said helplessly, staring ahead at the fountain.

He took a deep breath, “You’re perfect to me.”

“Stop,” you chastised halfheartedly.

Chuckling, he placed his hand over yours, “I mean it. Sometimes perfection is about the final concoction and not about getting all of the steps right. You don’t need the perfect journey, and, to me, nothing proves that more than you.”

You hummed, “You’re sweet.”

 “For what it’s worth, I think, given the opportunity, you could be a perfect wife,” he said, nudging your leg with his knee, getting your head to snap to the side.

Jumping up from the bench, you smacked your hand over your mouth at the small black box that he had set on the stone surface. “What are you… what?” You asked breathlessly, looking behind you in the way people usually did when they were surprised, waiting to see if you were being pranked.

“It doesn’t have to be an engagement ring,” he reached down and snapped the box open, showing you the glimmering ring inside. “It can just be a promise because I am promising you right now, this is it for me. You are the only person I can see myself with, and I’m ready to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Gaping at him, you looked between him and the ring before closing your mouth, “That sounds an awful lot like an engagement ring,” you told him, out of breath.

He nodded, “That’s because I want it to be.”

“Okay,” you answered.

“What?”

You giggled, he evidently hadn’t expected that answer, “Yes, Spencer.”

He stood up, tackling you in an embrace, “Thank goodness.” He said, relaxing into you as you returned his hug.

Over the past few months, you had been almost afraid of him asking you, worried that it would feel like an excuse. A band-aid over a bullet hole. But as you held each other tightly, all you felt was an overwhelming sense of right. This was where you were always meant to be. “Will you put it on me?”

He nodded slowly, sniffling as he pulled away from you, the warmth of his body leaving you as he nimbly took your left hand, slipping the ring on your fourth finger. The metal felt foreign on your skin, but you welcomed it nonetheless. “That has been sitting in my sock drawer for a year,” he admitted, placing both of his hands on your waist and meeting your eyes.

You beamed up at him, at both the revelation that he bought you a ring well before any of the trials and tribulations of the last few months and that he hid the ring in the one place you never touched – the seemingly bottomless abyss of unmated socks that Spencer called his sock drawer. “Thank you,” you breathed.

Spencer leaned his head down, hovering his lips just above your own, “For what, love?”

Blinking small tears out of your eyes, you answered, “For not giving up on us.”

He smiled, “Never,” he whispered before dropping his lips to yours, the intimacy of something as small as a kiss enough to bring butterflies to your stomach. “Do you want to go home? Or are you still feeling grim about the mouth?”

“Let’s go home, Spence,” you told him, pressing one last kiss to his lips before the two of you began the trek home, hand in hand.

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[lulunothulu]

“In sickness and health”

Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: you’re sick and Tyler makes you feel slightly better 🥰

Content: PURE FLUFF, and some sickness lol

GIF from Pinterest credit to the OG maker 💗

Your head was throbbing when you woke up. Your body aches every time you move and your nose was runny.

Great, you were sick.

Of all the days that you wake up feeling like absolute dog shit, your body decides it wants you to suffer.

What was so important about today? It was yours and Tyler’s first wedding anniversary.

You felt terrible, this was the first anniversary you both happen to be together to celebrate and you were sick.

You pull your hair down from its messy bun and sigh in front of the mirror of your bathroom. “Maybe a shower will help.”

You turn the shower on, waiting for it to warm up and then stepping in once your clothes are in a pile on the floor.

You scrub your body slowly, sighing when you have to sit down on the shower floor to wash your feet and legs. It feels nice down there.

It was a mistake.

You wake up with the shower still spraying you with hot water and Tyler standing over you, eyes full of worry.

“Baby?” He asks.

“Did I fall asleep?” You ask hoarsely.

He nods, turning the shower off and grabbing a towel from the rack. “I walked in to surprise you and you were slumped in the floor.”

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him, wincing when he lifts you into his arms.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m just sore,” you tell him. “My body and head hurt.”

Tyler lays you on the bed before helping get dry and dressed in your pjs.

“You need to regulate your body temperature before I take your temperature for a fever,” he instructs you. “Just lay here and I’ll go shower.”

That’s when you fully notice that Tyler was in his clothes—flannel shirt clinging to his body and dripping onto the floor. 

“I’ll be right back,” he tells you, kissing your forehead.

You only nod because the energy you have left was used to get yourself into your pjs.

———

Tyler gets out of the shower ten minutes later to see you sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep.

He smiles, kissing your forehead after he gets dressed in a pair of sweats and Texas Longhorns t-shirt. “Jesus, she’s burning up.”

Quickly, Tyler goes in the linen closet and grabs a rag before running cold water over it and squeezing the excess water out. He makes his way back to you and places it gently in your head, smoothing your hair down.

Once he sees you’re doing fine with the rag on your head, he heads downstairs to the kitchen. Grabbing carrots, celery, an onion, and some chicken, Tyler starts to make some homemade chicken noodle soup for you.

It’s what his mom used to do for him when he was sick, and he knew it would help you feel better.

After thirty minutes, the soup is simmering on the stove and Tyler needs to check how you’re doing. He walks back upstairs and smiles when he feels the rag on your head.

It’s still fairly warm and you’re sweating, which means your fever has broken. He grabs the Tylenol from the bedside table before filling a glass with water from the carafe on the dresser.

“Sweetheart,” he gently says, shaking you awake. When you open your eyes, he smiles and says, “Can you take this?”

You nod, popping the Tylenol in your mouth and swallowing it down with the water. “Thank you.”

“I have some soup on the stove, do you want me to bring it to you?”

“No,” you croak. “I can go downstairs with you.”

Tyler nods, sweeping you into his arms before carrying you down the stairs and gently placing you on the plush couch.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells you.

When he comes back in a few minutes later, he has a tray with a steaming bowl and a glass of orange juice on top. He places it on your lap before sitting beside you on the couch.

“Eat up, baby.” He kissed your temple before standing and putting on a movie for you to watch while you eat.

He walks back into the kitchen, sighing to himself before grabbing the flowers he’d brought you and putting them in water. You’d have to marvel at them later when you feel a bit better.

“Tyler?” You call out. He makes his way back into the living room to see you looking up at his with sad eyes. “I’m sorry I’m sick on our anniversary.”

“Shh,” he coos with a smile, taking a seat beside you again. “It’s okay, I just wanted to spend the night with you.”

He tilts your head back before kissing your lips, warm and tasting like the soup he’d made you.

You pull away smiling. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Hey, I chose to be with you in sickness and health. If I get sick then so be it.”

You close your eyes, kissing him again. When you pull away, you smile up at your husband. “I love you so much, Ty.”

“I love you too, Sweetheart,” he tells you. “Don’t feel any better?”

“I do,” you smile. “I would’ve felt better if you were just here with me anyway.”

“Good,” he smiles. “Now, what do you wanna watch after Toy Story?”

You shrug. “Might as well finish the whole thing.”

———

Halfway into Toy Story 3, you’ve fallen asleep again this time leaning on Tyler’s shoulder. He kisses your head with a smile before laying your head on his lap and stroking your hair.

Sleep was a necessity, especially now that you were sick. Tyler didn’t mind you sleeping. He would’ve been happy if all you wanted to do was sleep your way through your anniversary, as long as he got be around you.

Once the movie finished you slowly sit up and rub your eyes. “Did I fall asleep again?”

“You did,” Tyler smiles. “But that’s fine because you didn’t get to see me cry when Andy drove off.”

You chuckle, snuggling Tyler’s thighs. “That’s too bad.”

You sigh when Tyler’s fingers rub your scalp and you close your eyes.

“How’s your head feeling?” He asks.

“Much better,” you tell him.

“I think it’s time for your second dose of Tylenol so let me go get that.” Tyler stands, carefully helping you sit up before walking to the kitchen and grabbing the pill.

When he walks back in, you’re seated on one side of the couch and scrolling through the movies on the screen. He hands you the pill with a glass of water before sitting down, lifting your legs to rest them on his thighs.

“Hey, we have to catch up on Sex Education,” you tell him. “Kate said she and Javi were gonna finish the season without us.”

Tyler snorts. “Of course she did. Alright, let’s watch it.”

After a few episodes, Tyler begins to rub a your feet making you moan. “That’s feels so nice.”

“I know,” he smiles.

“Thank you,” you start. “For making me feel a bit better than I was this morning.”

Tyler only shrugs. “That’s my job. As your husband, I’m supposed to make you feel better and take care of you. And you know I don’t half ass anything, when it comes to you.”

“God, that’s so cheesy,” you laugh.

“Cheesy, but true.”

“Kiss me again and tell me you love me,” you tell him.

“Gladly,” Tyler’s says before leaning over and kissing you softly. “I love you, Mrs. Owens.”

You smile. “And I love you, Mr. Owens.”

[vilentia]

Hey just wondering if you still write for tangerine? If you do I was hoping you’d write one about tangerine having to most sweetest and kindest wife and everyone always wondering how could she marry a big grump like him? Like tangerine is on a job and he’s due back in a few days and these men have been sent to kidnap his wife and she sees them infront of her house and goes out asking if they are lost and invites them inside for some tea and makes them lunch and they end up leaving without her because of how sweet she was and tangerine comes back recognising the men leaving the house and his wife waving goodbye to them lol if that makes sense thank you

Disarmed by Kindness

Tangerine x reader

Found this in my requests and finally felt inspired enough to write something. Sorry for the long wait and I hope it was worth it. 🫣

Tangerine wiped the sweat off his brow as he stood on the rooftop, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. His job was nearly done. Just a few more days, and he’d be back home, where things were different—where he wasn’t just Tangerine the assassin, but your husband, the man who couldn’t figure out why someone as sweet as you would ever marry a grump like him.

His thoughts drifted to you: your warm smile, gentle hands, and that voice of yours that could soothe him even on his worst days. Every time someone learned that you were his wife, their brows would furrow, and their lips would purse in confusion. How could someone so kind, so impossibly good-hearted, be married to someone like him? It was a mystery that followed you both everywhere, but one that neither of you cared to solve. You fit together in a way that made sense only to you.

Meanwhile, back at your cozy home, you hummed a tune as you prepared some fresh lemonade. You had just finished baking a batch of lemon tarts, knowing they were his favorite, even though he always pretended to prefer more "manly" desserts. He’d be back soon, and you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he bit into one of the tarts.

As you set the table for lunch, you noticed a group of men lingering just beyond the front gate. They were tough-looking, with hard expressions and eyes that flickered with suspicion. Your heart skipped a beat, but only out of concern that they might be lost or in need of help. You quickly slipped on your apron and stepped outside, your bright smile leading the way.

“Hello there!” you called out, waving as you approached. The men, all too familiar with violence and the rougher side of life, were caught off guard by the sight of you—a small, smiling woman heading straight for them.

One of the men, clearly the leader, cleared his throat and put on his best menacing face. “Ma’am, we… uh… we’re looking for someone.”

“Well, you found me!” you beamed. “But I’m afraid you might be mistaken about who you’re looking for. Are you lost? Why don’t you come inside for some tea? I’ve just baked some lemon tarts, and they’re still warm.”

The men exchanged confused glances. This wasn’t how these things usually went. But something about you—your warmth, your kindness—disarmed them completely. Before they knew it, they were nodding and following you into the house, each one feeling more out of place than the last.

Inside, you bustled around the kitchen, brewing tea, slicing tarts, and setting out an array of sandwiches you had planned to eat alone. The men sat around the table, their bulky forms hunched awkwardly over the delicate teacups you handed them.

“So, who is it you’re looking for?” you asked sweetly as you poured them more tea.

The leader, struggling to remember why they were there in the first place, muttered, “We were sent to… uh… collect someone important.”

“Oh dear, I hope it’s nothing serious. You know, my husband is due back any day now. He’s such a dear, but I do worry about him when he’s away.” You sighed softly, the picture of a concerned wife.

The men felt a pang of guilt they weren’t accustomed to. They looked around at the cozy house, the floral curtains, the homemade meal. How could they possibly harm you or take you away? You were like a ray of sunshine, and they were nothing but storm clouds.

As they finished their tea, you packed up the remaining tarts into a neat little box and handed it to the leader. “For the road,” you said with a smile. “I wouldn’t want you going hungry.”

The men, now thoroughly confused and utterly charmed, left the house without so much as a harsh word. As they walked down the driveway, they glanced back to see you waving them off, your smile as bright as ever.

Just as they reached the street, Tangerine’s car pulled up. He stepped out, eyes narrowing as he recognized the men from a job he’d finished the week before. His hand instinctively moved toward the gun under his coat, but he stopped short when he saw you at the door, waving at the men with that sweet smile of yours.

The leader of the group met Tangerine’s gaze, and for a moment, it seemed like things could go south. But then the man raised the box of tarts, nodded once, and muttered, “You’ve got a good one there, mate.” And with that, they left, the mission completely forgotten.

Tangerine watched them go, then turned to you, who had already started fussing over him. “You’re back early! I didn’t even get a chance to make your favorite dinner yet,” you said, pulling him inside.

“What were those men doing here?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Oh, them? Just some lost souls looking for directions, I think. They seemed nice enough once you got to know them,” you said, dismissing the incident with a wave.

Tangerine couldn’t help but smirk. Of course, you had no idea who they really were or what they had intended to do. You saw the good in everyone, even those who didn’t deserve it. And somehow, that goodness had protected you.

He pulled you into a tight embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You looked up at him, your eyes full of warmth and love. “And you’re my grumpy bear. Now, come on, I’ve got lemon tarts.”

As you sat down to eat, Tangerine couldn’t shake the image of those hardened men walking away from your house, a box of tarts in hand, thoroughly disarmed by the woman he loved. You had a way of softening even the hardest of hearts, and in that moment, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

No one would ever understand how you worked together, but that was fine. As long as you had each other, Tangerine knew he’d always have a reason to come home, no matter how tough the job.

[telanadasvhenan]

thinking more about the psychological aspect of solavellan, and before I start, I'd like to stress that this is NOT CRITICAL of it, I actually think it's what makes part of the dynamic interesting. My word isn't the be all and end all, however, this is just my musings on the topic :] Also, REALLY long post! so, more under the read more lol

From Lavellan's point of view, I would personally struggle to see her trusting another lover or close one again for a long time, if ever again. I don't really think people ever talk about the real impact of the things she goes through, or what solas put her through, and the hurt as a result of it. The relationship is never defined between the two of them, it's always spoken about in vague undetermined words from their companions and poetic elvish between the two of them. Are they lovers? companions? partners? it's really up to the player. Leliana says that "you were close", Sera says Lavellan is "in it." Vhenan means home, heart, it's not a word said lightly imo and he tells you he loves her by their second kiss. It's never an official thing, so how secure can Lavellan truly feel?

This could go both ways when it comes to the break up. Crestwood, as a scene, is so interesting to me because the first portion seems like a man brought to his knees by weakness for the woman he loves. The two of them never cease to touch, fingers entwined, shoulders brushing, skin to skin. It's so reminiscent of how Lavellan matches his Hallelujah cadence. They're two parts of a song singing together. It's a gorgeous scene and it's understandable how so many are angry at how it ends because the whiplash between how it starts and what it leaves you with is severe. Imagine this from lavellan's shoes.

You're desperately in love with someone at odds with your people, who is wonderful and enticing and smart. Loving solas feels like loving the whole world, like being free and connected with the stars. But you don't know what this is. And, if you thought you did, how far can you presume? Is Lavellan always on edge, scared to love him deeper and richer than he loves her? or is she in a false sense of security, assuming his affection is forever hers. So when he not only breaks away your faith and trust in your history, plus potentially the vallaslin, she is clearly deeply upset. This isn't a minor fact that simply can be swept aside. The vallaslin is important. And Solas, even with the best intentions, has hurt her. He knows it and there's a reason why he apologises (bc he wimped out on the real truth). How much more does he know about her people that he has refused to tell her or kept from her by omission? Can you imagine the embarrassment, the utter humiliation of that secret? how many memories of them together where she replays his distaste for her people in her mind, knowing that he has access to knowledge that could change her perception of her past? Its ALOT. and thats even before the breakup.

Solas is not kind about the break up. It's rushed (impulsive to me) and doesn't do their connection justice. His composure cracks in places and it's very unlike him. It absolutely blindsides the player, so imagine being in Lavellan's place, AFTER THE VALLASLIN? personally, I wouldn't have been able to function. I half suspect that a sad, calm Lavellan is also in shock or disassociation. Because how else do you cope? The lack of communication between them alone is enough to raise my eyebrows. He promises answers. He confides that she saw through his mask and doesn't tell her what was real, and what was fake. He has given her a kernel truth whilst keeping her in the dark. Everything he told her could be a false, imaginary polite mask or it could be the truth. Where does it end? Where does he begin? Where does she stand?

I don't know if everyone has experienced what it's like to be ghosted or for a friend to simply disappear one day, but it changes you. I say this as someone who has both been avoidant as well as anxious, but you never recover. Someone disappearing like that makes you doubt any reassurance that people won't just evaporate from your life. So when Solas just disappears, the game's single conversation with Leliana feels a little lacking to me. I understand that they can't really dedicate a lot to it, I get that, so I'd like to fill it in. At first, it's search parties. Solas wouldn't just leave her like that. He promised her answers. He started another mural just before they left for corypheus. He didn't intend to just leave, surely.

Days, weeks and months pass. The question is worse than the truth. Is he dead? Did he use them? Was he being truthful when he spoke to her in those ruins, or another polite mask he could hide behind? Is it better if he's dead or better than he didn't deem her worthy enough to even say goodbye? We, as the players, obviously know this isn't true, but she doesn't know that. Does your lavellan assume the worst and be overcome with grief that her one love, her heart, her home, was nothing more than a lie of omission? or is there anger there at his betrayal of her trust once more? I seriously doubt it was easy to forget or dismiss. That kind of disappearance ruins your trust with people. Something. Anything would have been enough.

Again, this is all my opinion on how these emotions would play out and DEFINITELY NOT canon nor do they have to be! But I seriously struggle to see how Lavellan could even come to heal from these wounds within even a two year time skip. By the time of trespasser, almost everyone has left her side. She's almost entirely alone again, save Cullen and Josie (and leliana if she's not divine). And thats okay: they all have rich lives to return to. But that must just reaffirm to her that no one will stay. She is alone. How does she trust again?

And then there is Fen'harel. Lavellan's reaction to fen'harel has always lacked the fear I kind of hoped would be there? I mean this isn't just a minor deity, this IS THE antagonist of her entire faith. I'm assuming that she's lost hope in the gods, even though it's confirmed to her that they're real, but that message has been a part of her since childhood. So learning that he is the dreadwolf, again not from him, but from the fragments of his past must cut her deeply.

Her love was never who he said he was, she knows this, but who is the real man? She's never known him in a context where he can truly show her. Her love is fragmented between each identity he holds. Her trust that he is who he said he is fragments with it. The knowledge that not only has he been watching the inquisition, her, for years without a single hint that he lives or is okay must destroy her. Could you imagine how insignificant you must feel to him? And he essentially affirms to her that yes, in the greater scheme of things, his love and hers are inconsequential. They cannot matter to him because he cannot strive from his path. His indulgence was a mistake. And it's undeniably cruel. I love solas and I cannot argue that he was kind to Lavellan because he wasn't. To me, there is no way to see his actions as kind. Understandable, absolutely and definitely without malicious intent.

Lavellan learns that he loved her just as deeply, if not more. He loved her with all his heart and it did not matter. She changed him and it has only brought him more pain. He loves her too much to even allow her near him, to even give himself that weakness. They are apart from each other in an endless distance, only the two of them in the world. No one else.

Obviously, each Lavellan is different, and I've made a lot of assumptions, but I think it's worth considering. How do you love someone again after all of that? How much can you rebuild your faith after what you have learnt. Lavellan has loved a "god" (I know he's not a god, but for all intents and purposes, he has the power of a god and wears an evanuris crown.) and in turn, a god has loved her. And he left her with one last embrace that will leave its mark on her forever, then he leaves once more. Lavellan is alone.

Each love after is met with suspicion, distrust and comparison. Lavellan is entirely changed. How many pieces of her can be taken away until she is no longer herself? Each person wears a new mask she cannot determine. Where do they begin? Where can she find herself?

How lonely it must be to love someone like Solas and be at the other side of an endless distance.

[moonstruckme]

Hey lovely, how are you?

I’m not sure if I should be answering this through here, but here we go

I had already read that lil’ drabble and it’s perfect!!! Please don’t get me wrong, I really love it, but I was thinking of something a little different.

Maybe reader has to get a vaccine (because she was stalling to do it) and when the boys find out they were like “you need to get it, it’s for your health” and reader goes like “fine”. Well, it wasn’t fine. When reader finally realizes what’s happening she turns into this sobbing mess and it just breaks the boys hearts 💔

I know this is kinda specific, sorry. It’s what always happens to me when I go get vaccinated and I always end up crying more than I thought I would.

It’s totally fine if you don’t want to do it, though! Also, sorry if some terms were wrong, english is not my first language lol

Anyways, love you and love your work!! 🫶

Thanks for explaining babe, and for requesting <3

cw: needle, also I have once again written myself into an inaccurate emt situation and am once again asking for your feigned oversight of the erroneousness. Thank you mwah! 

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You’re being quiet. James keeps trying to pick up conversation, but you won’t engage for more than a few words and a terse smile before falling silent again. They’ve all picked up on it. From the driver’s seat, Remus keeps casting scrutinous glances at you in the rear view mirror. James has given up on trying to get you to talk and is just grateful you’re letting him be near you, his hand on your leg while you stare out the window. 

It’s obvious you’re upset. You like being told what to do as much as the next person, and when they’d found out you’d been avoiding going to get your vaccine they’d been more than a little bossy. Though he’d been as insistent as the other two that it was important to get done, James had honestly felt a bit sorry for you; Remus had decided you were going the next morning before you could get a word in, which would have been next to impossible anyways with the tirade Sirius had embarked on. 

James feels a bit sorry for you now, too, when he and Remus are trying to go along with your wishes and keep quiet and Sirius is, quite naturally, goading you. 

“You don’t have to be mad at us, baby,” he says, fully turned around in the passenger seat to give you his poutiest look. “We’re all on the same team here, yeah?” 

“I’m not mad,” you say to the window. 

“I get that you’re not needles’ number one fan, but you know how important this is. We just want you to be healthy.”

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs so James’ hand falls away from you. It stings a little. “Can we not talk about it?” 

“Sure, dove.” Remus’ eyes are on you in the rear view mirror again, his hand reaching across the console to cover Sirius’ knee warningly. “We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You’re quiet the rest of the drive. James is used to being around people that are stewing (years of friendship with Remus and Sirius will accustom one to that), but it makes him fidgety to think you’re angry with him. He really wants to reach for your hand. You’re too stiff to make him confident you’ll take it. 

But when you enter the curtained-off room and don’t go to hop up on the table, you don’t reject the helping hand he offers you to get up. You don’t let go. 

Remus leaves to prepare your vaccine, and you don’t seem any more inclined to talk than you had been in the car. James decides to hop up on the table beside you, putting an arm around your shoulders when you seem amenable to it, and Sirius leans against the desk, thwacking a pen in a lazy rhythm. You feel tense under his arm. 

James is beginning to suspect you’re not actually angry. 

“You okay, angel?” he asks gently. 

“Fine,” you say, clipped. It’s the same response you’d given when they’d strong-armed you into this appointment. He’s not sure if he believes you anymore. 

James is suddenly glad he came. Though Remus and Sirius had to come in for their shift and will be staying after, he only tagged along because he wanted (as always) to be wherever the three of you are. Now that he has an inkling of how you’re feeling, James is glad he’ll be with you to drive you home, look after you in case you have any side effects, and generally help you relax after this is done. Right now, you seem to be winding tighter by the minute. 

Remus comes back in, and James looks over to find your bottom lip trapped cruelly between your teeth. Your expression looks almost pained. 

“Honey…” he murmurs. 

Remus and Sirius look up in alarm as your eyes line with silver. 

“Hey, baby, it’s okay.” Sirius pushes off from the desk, sitting on your other side and winding an arm around your waist. “You’re fine, this’ll only take a second.” 

You give a little sob, reality setting in. James sees the surprise and anguish he’s feeling reflected on Sirius’ face as the other boy kisses above your eyebrow. 

Remus’ expression is carefully calm as he approaches, holding up an antiseptic wipe like a symbol of peace. “Just breathe,” he says, voice soft and slow as he pushes up your sleeve. You watch his every move, every one of the muscles beneath James’ hand tense. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. In just a little bit we’ll be sending you home with Jamie, yeah?” 

He picks up the vaccine, and you suck in a breath, pressing into James’ side to get away from it. “Wait wait wait,” you say in a rush, voice tipping up with panic as tears spill over your waterline. James' heart veritably shatters. He feels it happening in his chest, but they’ve all dealt with patients like this before. Waiting doesn’t help anything. 

“You’re fine,” Sirius promises you, helping Remus to hold your arm still while James shields your vision with his hand. “Don’t look, you’re okay.” 

James doesn’t watch the needle go in, but he hears your reaction, a wet inhale that catches in your throat followed by a torturous whimpering sound. 

He presses a kiss to your hair, whispering a quick, “You’re good, lovie.” 

Remus hums in quiet agreement. A moment later he’s setting the syringe back down on his tray, replacing the spot with a plaster. James lets his hand drop, and Sirius cheers as Remus rubs small, sympathetic circles over the spot with his thumb. 

“You did it, gorgeous!” He pecks you on the cheek, mindless of its dampness. “You’re done.” 

Another tiny sob breaks out of you, and Remus’ brow creases pityingly. He touches his lips gently over the plaster on your arm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t realize quite how nervous you were.” 

You sniffle. “It’s okay,” you say. Your voice comes out a bit frayed, and both James and Sirius coo in sympathy. 

“My poor girl,” the latter whines. He tugs you away from James’ hold, clearly fed up with not doing his fair share for your physical comfort. “I thought you were just peeved with us. I didn’t know they made you that freaked, sweetness. You did amazing.” 

“You really did so well.” James thumbs under your lashes, collecting water on his thumbnail. “You were so brave.” 

“Don’t patronize me,” you mumble, growing sullen again. 

“We’re not, dovey, we’re not.” Remus rubs up and down on your arm placatingly. At this rate, James thinks, you won’t have any muscle pain at all. “This is more difficult for some people than others. It seems like it's really difficult for you, and I’m proud of you for getting through it. Alright?” 

He’s looking at you intently, waiting for you to confirm you understand. You go a bit shy under his gaze. “Okay,” you acquiesce softly. 

“Good.” Remus kisses your forehead. “You’re all done here, so you two can head home. If you start to feel ill or odd at all say something to Jamie, alright?” 

“I’ve got her,” James reassures them both, hopping down from the table. Sirius holds you still a moment longer, kissing the same spot Remus had before letting you go. You slot under James' arm like you always do, like it’s where you’re meant to be. “We’ll text you pictures of all the ice cream we eat and films we watch while you’re working.” 

“Fuck off,” Sirius laughs. It catches, and you chuckle softly. The sound makes all three of them breathe a sigh of relief. 

James squeezes you with his arm around your shoulders as he walks you out. 

[sorrelchestnut]

I've seen a fair number of posts both here and on reddit that question why Tav (or the Dark Urge) would end up as a group leader for any other reason that "game mechanics say so." There's the requisite "okay, well if you play a high charisma character I guess it makes sense," or on the other end of the spectrum, "if you're playing Durge and murder someone right off the bat everyone would be too scared to tell you no." And I get where people are going with this! I really do. But it also fundamentally misunderstands a facet of human nature, which is that the vast majority of people do not actually want to be in charge, because that means being held responsible for the outcome. Accordingly, most people will dither when a group consensus is needed: have none of you ever tried to get a group of friends to agree where to go for dinner? Yeah, it's like that, but waaaay worse.

A lot of times "leadership" is just the willingness to say, "fuck it, y'all do what you want, but I'm doing this." I see it all the time in a corporate environment, where people will go back and forth on group meetings without anyone making a decision until finally one brave soul goes "in my opinion the clear answer is x" and then everyone gratefully goes along with it. Because now it's not their responsibility when something goes wrong! They're just following along with someone else's suggestion, and maybe it works or maybe it doesn't, but at the end of the day they don't have to worry about the consequences unless they're personally affected. In which case they might step up and argue back, and then they're stuck being a leader, too. Welcome to adulthood!

Lae'zel is the only one who ever even tries to exert some kind of control, when she tells you to follow her lead on the ship, or calls you her subordinate in the Grove. But, crucially, she doesn't ever make any serious attempt to take control: you can just tell her, "lol, no," and she sort of confusedly gives way, because she doesn't know how to handle this scenario. In her world there are commanders and subordinates, and everyone knows where they stand and falls in line. She's never actually had to take control of a situation and so at the first sign of resistance she falls back on the dynamic that's familiar to her, which is executing the commands of someone older and more experienced. She goes through a lot of growth over the game, to the point that she can take over as a resistance leader in her own right by the end, but at the beginning she's a wet-behind-her-ears private with some decent combat chops and it shows.

Otherwise, your party consists of:

Shadowheart, who's trained in infiltration and assassination and does NOT want a lot of attention brought to her or her mission for a variety of reasons;

Astarion, who has literally been a slave for two centuries and canonically takes a while to realize that he can exert an opinion beyond complaining about it;

Gale, whose only friend is his cat and couldn't project-manage his way out of a wet paper bag;

Wyll, who was probably trained for command at one point but has been doing the lone-hero thing for a decade and has a very large secret that he's trying to conceal; and,

Karlach, who's only ever been a bodyguard and a soldier and is genuinely just happy to be here.

Honestly, it would be more a surprise if Tav/Durge didn't end up as their unofficial leader, given the general power dynamics at play. The first time Tav/Durge says something like, "fuck it, we need to do something instead of stand around arguing about it, let's go check out those ruins over there," it's a done deal. They're The Captain Now! As long as they don't make decisions that fundamentally oppose something dear and important to the other group members, they're not even going to get any argument. Because at the end of the day, not one of these walking disasters has enough trust in themselves and their decision-making skills to feel any kind of certainty that they can choose the right path forward. If someone else is going to take that decision out of their hands? They're going to follow, no questions asked, right up until the moment they can't.

[ghsface]

Not sure if you are taking request but can we get an angst with Matt where like reader and him are dating for years but recently comments have been getting to her or people have been following her home and eventually she decideds to break up with Matt but Matt takes things to in his hands where he’s tells ppl to stop and they get back together?(Lol sorry if it didn’t make sense but thank you)

𝜗𝜚 new messege .ᐟ.ᐟ

Hey gorgeous, I really liked this idea, I hope you like it too.

You are the only thing I want - Matt Sturniolo

Sumary: You and Matt had a secret relationship and when you decide to make it public everything goes wrong...

Warnings: angst hate messages towards reader, this is just angst with a happy ending

A/n: Leave me ideas to write in my inbox because I'm running out of ideas. I'm sorry if something is misspelled or not understood. My first language is not English. By the way, what do you think of my new theme, in my opinion, it's very cute like the baby pink and light brown. 🩷🧸

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

It had been exactly fourteen months since the first time you and Matt kissed. You hadn't imagined then how important he would become in your life, nor that being with him would be so complicated. Because, although you adored each other and the bond between you grew every day, that relationship had to be kept secret. It was a mutual decision, made for practical reasons. At first, the thrill of secrecy made everything more exciting. But now, you both felt exhausted.

You had spent too many nights talking secretly in the car, dates arranged down to the last detail so as not to be seen, or moments of solitude where, instead of shouting to the world how much you loved each other, you had to hide it like a forbidden secret. The situation was starting to weigh on you.

That night, you were on the couch at Matt's house. He was holding you, and your head was resting on his shoulder while you felt his fingers playing with the strands of your hair.

"Aren't you tired of this?" he asked quietly, breaking the silence.

You raised your head and looked at him, searching his eyes for what he really wanted to say.

"What are you talking about?"

"About having to hide… about not being able to tell anyone how amazing you are." Matt smiled, but his eyes reflected a sadness that you shared.

"Of course I'm tired. Sometimes I wish we could be a normal couple".

"Then let's do it", he suggested, giving your hand a squeeze. "Let's make it public. I don't care what others say. I want to be with you, and I want everyone to know it."

The idea made you feel butterflies in your stomach. The love you had for Matt was bigger than any fear, and the fact that he was willing to share your relationship with his fans made you feel special. You decided to announce it on social media.

When Matt uploaded the first photo of the two of you together, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. The image showed an intimate moment, a selfie of the two smiling on the beach, with the sunset in the background. The caption was simple but powerful: “Over a year together, and we’re just getting started.”

For the first few hours, the response was overwhelmingly positive. There were comments from fans congratulating and supporting them: “They look beautiful together,” “Finally someone makes Matt happy as he deserves,” “What a great couple they make!”

But over time, other types of messages began to appear. “Her? Is he really with her?”, “She’s not enough for him,” “She’s only with him for fame, I’m sure she’ll use him to become famous,” “Poor Matt, he deserves someone better.”

At first, you tried not to take them seriously. But every time you checked your phone, more of those comments appeared. There were people criticizing your appearance: “She’s too basic for someone like him,” “She’s not even pretty, how dare she date Matt?”, “Matt deserves someone more attractive.”

The words cut you deeply. You knew you shouldn’t let those comments affect you, but you couldn’t stop the doubts from starting to poison your mind. Every time you looked in the mirror, you started to see those flaws that others mentioned. Insecurity began to invade you in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

Matt tried to comfort you whenever he noticed you looking down. Sometimes, during the night, he would catch you reading the comments on your phone, and he would simply take the phone away from you and hold you, whispering that he loved you and that was all that mattered.

“You don’t need to listen to those people, babe,” he said, looking at you with a sincere expression. “They don’t know anything about you, they don’t know how amazing you are.”

The comments didn’t stop, though. Every day they became crueler and crueler. Rumors began to circulate suggesting that you were only with Matt to gain followers, or that you were using his fame to make yourself known. People commented on every aspect of your life, from how you dressed to how you looked without makeup. There were those who said things like, “It’s obvious that she dresses like that to get attention, can’t she dress up better?” or “She should thank Matt for giving her a chance, she’s just an ordinary girl.”

At some point, comments were no longer the only thing. People started following you home, taking photos of you without your permission, and even trying to get close to you to ask you invasive questions. You felt watched and judged at every turn, and little by little, you started to believe that you weren't enough, that maybe all those people were right.

The pressure began to be unbearable. Your self-esteem plummeted, and every time you looked in the mirror, you saw someone who, according to the world, wasn’t enough. Matt tried to cheer you up, to remind you how much he loved you, but you couldn’t stand it anymore.

One night, after one of your most difficult conversations, you asked him to meet you. Matt came over to your house, and as soon as you saw him, he knew something was wrong. He stared at you in silence as you searched for the words to say to him.

“Matt… I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“What are you saying?” he asked, frowning, clearly worried.

“I can’t be in this relationship anymore. The pressure, the comments… they’re tearing me apart. I can’t take it anymore.

Matt looked at you, unable to process what you were saying. He was trying to understand, but the pain in your eyes made it clear to him that you were really hurt.

“But… I love you, and I don’t care what other people think. They don’t understand what we have.”

“I know, Matt. I know you love me, but I can’t go on like this. I’m losing myself in all of this.” It's getting harder and harder to get up and pretend everything is okay.

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back your tears. “Matt… I can’t keep going like this. I can’t handle the pressure, the comments, the people following me everywhere. I feel like I’m losing myself, and I don’t want to drag you into this. I think… I think it’s best that we break up.”

The goodbye was hard and heartbreaking for both of us. In the days that followed, Matt stayed away from social media, not mentioning anything about what had happened. He isolated himself, trying to understand how the love of his life had to walk away because of the cruelty of others.

Weeks went by as you tried to get over the situation, even though you felt empty. However, one afternoon, while you were checking your social media, you noticed a post from Matt that surprised you.

It was a photo of you and him that Nick had taken, and the message was clear and direct: “I don't give a shit what others say about my girlfriend. I'm with her because I love her, and that's never going to change.”

Matt's public statement was not only a message to his fans, but a promise that he was willing to stand up for what they had. Feeling a torrent of emotions, you decided to call him. When he answered, his voice trembled with emotion.

"I can't go on without you" he said quietly, while you tried to hold back your tears.

"Me neither, Matt… I love you."

That night, they met again, and between tears and hugs, they knew that this time there would be nothing and no one that could separate.

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

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