#just wondereing if im missing that discussion or not

[engagemythrusters]

do you primarily mandalorian show fans not think about how grogu is going to still be a toddler by the time din djarin dies or is this just not something i see reblogged from my mutuals

[mellotronmkll]

cannot put into words how much finding out that women with autism being misdiagnosed with bpd is like a super common thing shook my entire understanding of everything I had experienced my whole life that was the real final nail in the coffin but it's crazy I somehow didn't know that until recently

[seariii]

"Dazzled" huh.... What a fitting word

[detectivenyx]

broke: sayaka was a bitch who deserved what she got still broke: sayaka was completely innocent! celestia's the TRUE bitch who deserved what she got my massive galaxy brain: both sayaka and celestia were deeply flawed individuals and entirely different people from entirely different walks of life before hope's peak beyond the fact both girls had extreme ambitions for their life. both were ultimately shoved into a corner by simultaneously an uncaring world that only cared about their output to the point where both were doing horrible things to continue meeting that quota, and by its literal end by a master manipulator who pulled the right strings to cause the fragile broken system to completely collapse and cause the actual fucking apocalypse. and ultimately neither of them would've lifted a finger against their classmates and alongside the rest of them, did not deserve to be shoved into a life or death scenario where they both died trying to save their lives from a force that had already ended their lives as they knew them. both characters are flawed to the point where murder is something they will consider or do if it's the only way to keep their dreams alive - and to some degree they consider it in order to keep THEMSELVES alive, especially in celestia's instance where just about everyone left by time she was committing her murder could've overpowered her. neither of them are perfect innocent little angels because both of them are human fucking beings just as subject to vice and temptation as the rest of us. my massive galaxy brain, adding on: and also they're kissing :)))

[fideidefenswhore]

[throwbacktears]

can we talk about the ending of woman of tomorrow because i have questions and im too scared to post them on reddit

[hoodie-prince-kid]

im not liveblogging i swear to hylia im not liveblogging but im in season 3 and Wukong got amnesia and past Wukong was so?? cute???? oh my god help

[fangisms]

summertime at the burrow

A/N: i want to be an honorary weasley please im literally begging. notice me molly weasley

Pairings: Best Friend!Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fred finally invites his best friend home over summer holiday. Neither of you expected it to go so well. 3.7k words.

Warnings: fluff, best friends to lovers, ungodly amount of shenanigans, friendly bullying/teasing, mud wrestling, kissing, (friendly) violence, pet names (trouble, snookums, sugarplum, sweetheart), cursing, borderline frog abuse

"Good morning, trouble."

You hop into the seat next to him that he’d been saving for you. In fact, he’d been saving it for you since the first time you plopped down beside him after the sorting hat declared your house first year. You laughed when he shook your hand. He thought you had the cutest smile. Then you teased him for his devilish charm and he called you catty, and you’ve been teasing each other ever since.

"Are you packed and ready?” He sounds more worried than that time he nearly shattered his collar bone during a vicious Quidditch scrimmage. “We're leaving bright and early tomorrow. Mum says she's preparing a hearty lunch for our guests." Fred scarfs down the rest of his breakfast and turns to look at you to find you're looking back at him in bewilderment.

"Somebody's excited," you tease, ruffling his fiery locks and glancing over at George with a grin.

"If you think this is bad, you should see him before winter holidays," George huffs.

“I have.”

Fred rolls his eyes at you and you jab him in the side.

"Where are the lot of you off to?" Lee perks up from across the table, setting his plate down and wiggling his way between Alicia and Angelina.

"I finally got my honorary invite to the Weasley burrow this summer," you chirp, wrapping your arm over Fred's shoulders and leaning him into your side.

Lee cocks a brow and smirks at a suddenly and uncharacteristically shy Fred. "Well, it's about time! You've only been dating for—"

You shake your head. "No, not dating, Lee. I swear we've been over this—"

"Oh, we've been over it plenty. I just choose to ignore wicked witches when they lie—!"

You practically leap across the table with your teeth gritted to grab for his robes when you're stopped by the laughing twins holding you back from tearing into him. "Lee Jordan, you take that back right now, or so help me your mother will wonder why your hair's gone purple!"

"I'm not going to apologize for being lied to!"

"Let me at him! I'm trying to defend my honor here!"

"Miss—young lady!”—McGonagall appears behind you, sending you into shock and barreling back onto the bench—“Settle down! You're frightening the first years, and we typically prefer they come back in the fall."

"Apologies, professor, I was simply trying to have a friendly discussion with my classmate," you say, gesturing to Lee who smiles begrudgingly.

"Right, well, from now on, let's have our discussions from across the furniture, not on top of it." She wanders away, and you turn to stick your tongue out at Lee who is doubled-over and cackling at your being caught.

“I hope you know, we’re going to receive the same third-degree from my dear mother,” Fred mumbles in your ear. His heart races when you turn to him, a playful glint in your eye. You blink sweetly and rest your hand on his knee when he tucks his arm around your lower back. “But don’t worry, sugarplum, it’s never too late to try.”

He winks. Your eyes go wide, and you shove at his shoulder with a chuckle disguised by a scoff.

“Scabbers not the only rat in the Weasley family, I see.”

“That is exactly what I’m talking about, there’s no way you two are just friends—”

A slice of ham sticks to Lee’s cheek with a cold, wet slap as you eye him from across the table.

“Don’t listen to him, snookums, he just doesn’t understand our complicated arrangement,” Fred says, nudging your cheek with his nose and holding back laughter.

“Gross,” George mutters, grinning before he’s met with the same lunchmeat backhand his friend so rudely received. “Suppose I could’ve predicted that one.”

…

You wipe the sweat from your brow, slinging your carry-on over your shoulder before bending down to pick up your trunk. You’re trailing behind most of the rest of the group, just a few steps behind the twins while their younger siblings charge ahead through the field with Harry and Hermione. Fred checks in with you every couple of meters, making sure you don’t need any serious medical attention.

Once the twins breach the front door, you take a seat outside on your trunk, fanning yourself with your hand and throwing your head back. Then you hear:

“Fred, you better get out there and help that poor girl with her things!”

“Sorry, mum!”

You chuckle when he appears in the doorway moments later, winded as ever, hair plastered to his forehead, and still grinning wildly as he jogs over.

“What’s a lovely young lady like yourself doing outside all alone on such an unbearably hot afternoon?”

“Sweating like swine.”

“Ravishing,” he teases, shooing you off the suitcase, “head inside, mum’s absolutely itching to meet you.”

So you do. You can see her welcoming her children and their friends alike, and it fills you with the warmth of fresh gingerbread and the nerves of a teenage boy during school dance season.

“My dear!” she coos, arms outstretched even though a thin year of sweat coats every inch of your body, even though you’ve been wearing these clothes for a day, and even though you’re breathing heavy like a dog. She’s got her arms outstretched like you’re family.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Fred, and, goodness, you’re even prettier than he said you’d be!” —She gasps when he walks through the door, hauling your trunk in tow—“Don’t tell him I told you.”

“It’s been five minutes and you two are already sharing secrets about me. Only seven more days, Freddie,” he mumbles, setting the trunk down with a thud.

“Oh, well! It’s wonderful to finally meet you, dear, Ginny will show you to your room and lunch will be ready once you’re all settled!”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley—”

“Oh, none of that, call me Molly.”

Your brows knit when she smiles at you so gently before making her way back to the kitchen.

“Thank you, Molly!”

Fred hops up from where he’d been relaxing on an armchair, clapping you on the arm with a reassuring smile.

“Everything processing alright up there?”

You nod.

“Peachy. Now give me a smile, you’re scaring me.”

You squint at him and pinch his arm, simpering when he hisses and swats your dry-gulching fingers away.

“That’ll do!”

“We’re up this way,” Ginny chirps as she rushes by and tugs you by the hand up the stairs.

Fred watches after you, rubbing his arm with a mean look on his face just before his playful resentment fades and his affections settle into the apples of his cheeks. This is going to be a long seven days.

…

Fred had never invited anyone to stay at the burrow. He preferred the company of his close family and whoever his mother deemed Weasley-enough herself. But he’d been saving this invitation. It stewed in the back of his mind for years before he mustered up the courage to offer it to you.

Ridiculous. That’s how it sounded in his head: ridiculous. If he wanted to ask you, he should have done it at the first chance. That’s what Fred would do. But he could never bring himself to get the words out whenever he swore to himself today would be the day. Because you’d just look at him with those damned doe eyes—you’d test his boundaries and make him all gushy inside—and it was like he was suddenly turned to a tongue-tied and pathetic halfwit.

And now here you are. An unofficial part of his family. But nevertheless a part of it. You’d found the annual Weasley strawberry-picking trip to be wonderful despite Fred pulling cheap pranks on you and the fact that it was basically sweltering outside. When you returned, you all spread out in the family room with bowls of the dewy berries in each of your laps. Everyone claimed a seat while you and Fred were forced to share the hardwood floor. You ended up tossing the small fruits into each other’s mouths with your legs laid across his thighs.

At one point, he lands one of the berries down your blouse. Almost immediately, he starts to laugh, clutching his chest while you gawk at him.

“You better start running, trouble.”

He gulps and scampers to his feet before scurrying out the front door. You take off after him, shouting curses into the wind when he rounds a corner.

You follow his footsteps but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“I swear, if I ever get my hands on you—”

He grabs your waist from behind you, dipping down to whisper in your ear. “You can put your hands on me whenever you’d like, sugarplum—”

“Merlin’s Beard, Fred! You scared the shit out of me!”

You jolt away, and he thinks you look genuinely angry this time. But he smiles and your features soften. Then you’re after him again, bounding into the tall grass with an uproar of laughter.

…

You spend the next few days of your vacation trying to beat Ron at chess then deciding it may be better if you and Harry team up to try and beat Ron at chess. You also take Ginny and Hermione shopping while the gaggle of boys trail behind the three of you grumbling and whining about missing their beloved Quidditch game.

You offer to help Molly with every meal, and she only accepts once you convince her your desserts are a crowd favorite back home. She’s proud to say she’s impressed, and she grows even prouder when you admit you adore big families like hers and see at least two kids of your own in your future.

Arthur takes a liking to you after you listen to him rave about the kind of items muggles use day-to-day and how fascinating their modern technology has become in recent years. He’s thrilled to find you actually take interest in his tinkering and collections and whatnot.

But most of all, you spend your time at the burrow with Fred. He steals you away after meals and keeps you up late to teach you his favorite charms. One overcurious evening finds you two perched together on the bathroom floor whispering and giggling while you brush a bold smokey-eye onto his eyelids. Let’s just say dinner that night was nothing short of hilarious: a look that Fred will never live down.

On the fifth morning, you jostle him awake. He whines about the sun not even being up yet while you drag him down the steps and shove your socked feet into an extra pair of rubber boots.

“What’s the bucket for?” he whispers, traipsing down the path along the side of the house when you stop dead in your tracks.

“Shh!” You press your gloved finger to his lips. A chorus of croaks erupts from the marsh beside the house. Nothing out of the ordinary for Fred, in fact that sound had often soothed him to sleep. But there’s a dangerous glint in your eye that tells him you’re on a mission.

“Can’t we do this when the sun is up? It’s cold and I’m tired—”

“The faster we catch ‘em, the faster we can go back to bed,” you whisper as your boot sinks into the edge of the muddy body of water. He sighs and sinks in next to you with his hands on his hips.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this. You’re lucky you’re so pretty or you’d never get away with anything.”

You purse your lips and wade a little further out, looking out at the cooly rippling water beneath the sliver of sunrise.

“Yes, I would,” you say, quietly but so matter-of-fact he’s inclined to believe you.

Just then you spring into action, shoveling a small frog into your bucket with a victorious grunt. A few minutes later, he shuffled over to you and lowers his cupped palms into your bucket: three more frogs settle down into the center with a wet plop. You beam up at him, and it’s worth the early morning trouble to see you so happy and have you so close.

“So what do you plan on doing with these poor creatures once we’re done?”

You sit on the bank of the waterbed, sighing and setting the bucket beside you. He watches you from the water while you examine the small blob of darkness in the center of your palm. The bottom of the bucket is lined with croaking frogs, and the sun is well above the horizon, dousing the sky in soft pink and warm rose.

“I’m going to let them go.”

He lets out a sharp breath, hands falling to his sides, leaving streaks of mud down his tee shirt.

“You’re joking.”

You look up at him. You’re not joking.

“No,” he huffs. “You did not drag me out of my nice, warm bed to catch a million slimy frogs in the freezing cold dark just to let them go again.”

“Oh, but I did.” You’re crazy, he thinks. You’re crazy and it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. Doesn’t make you any less crazy, though it might make him much less sane.

You set the frog down in the grass and leave the bucket tipped over. The small creatures immediately flood out from the splotchy tin opening into the newborn daylight and the crisp morning air. You stand and wipe your hands against each other a few times, scrunching your nose and finally meeting his eyes again.

“What’s wrong, trouble? Cat got your tongue?”

You grin.

“You know, one of these days, I’m going to say ‘no’ to you, and it’ll be a rude awakening.”

Fred walks past you like he’s really mad. Like it was an uncrossable line and you treated it like the tape at the end of a marathon. He’s hulking back towards the house when you grab his wrist to get his attention.

“What?”

But you don’t look sad. You don’t look pitiful or hurt. You look like you’re scheming, and it drives him crazy. As if he could ever say ‘no’ to you.

“You think I’m pretty,” you coo, batting your lashes just to get on his nerves. His breath hitches, and he feels warm despite the nipping cold of the morning.

“Unrelated.”

You drop his hand and cross your arms over your chest with a pout. He continues leisurely toward the burrow, tossing his gloves to the ground with a huff of hot air.

“Fred?” you call. And you sound worried, so he’s compelled to whip around. But when he does, he’s met with a rude awakening.

It was a misstep. A silly mistake, the wrong footing. Easily avoidable, and yet he didn’t avoid it. So he’s ass-first into a mud puddle with you shrieking in laughter about a meter away.

“You’re awful,” he grumbles, both hands propping him up and seeping into the thick mud as seconds tick by.

“I’m sorry! Freddie, I’m so sorry,” you cackle, taking a few steps toward him with tears of joy in your eyes. “But you should have seen your face!”

“Help me up,” he says, shaking his head and wiping his hand down his pajama pants before holding it outstretched to you. You grab it and tug enough to leverage him out of the muck. But he doesn’t budge. And in that moment, your eyes are filled with fear. Then, with one jolt, you topple down into the mud right beside him.

“Fred!”

“An eye for an eye, sugarplum.”

You push yourself up onto your hands to find your entire front is caked in mud, the mess narrowly avoiding your chin and above.

“You’re going to pay for that.”

“Oh, bring it on,” Fred teases.

You smirk just before a handful of mud is smeared across his chest by your slippery glove.

“Your move, trouble.”

He shakes his head and chuckles, looking down at the abstract art work fondly. But not quite fondly enough to hold himself back. His fingers dig into the puddle determinedly just before patting the top of your head with it like a stray dog. You squint your eyes closed and groan before peeking one eye open and coating his cheek in mud.

You make it to your feet and Fred hurls a ball of mud at your ass but he misses and it lands in the grass in front of you. You bolt around the back of the house, but he hurls a hunk towards your shoulder blade. You yelp and shout at him:

“You’re supposed to be a gentleman!”

“I’ll show you a gentleman, sweetheart,” he hollers it just before he catches up to you. You squeal and nearly slip on a slick patch of grass, but before you can leap out of his reach, he grabs your upper arm and presses you against the tree just behind your back.

“That’s not playing fair, Freddie, I’ve got nowhere to run,” you say, breathlessly grasping at the edge of his shirt with a tired smile. He chuckles and plants one palm against the bark beside your head, bringing the other hand to cup the side of your neck.

“You don’t need to run anywhere,” he mumbles, “just stay here.” The dried mud on the pad of his thumb draws a swipe of dirt down your cheek. Your fingers curl around his wrist and your lips part sweetly when he leans in.

“Time to come inside, you two! Breakfast is ready!”

Your eyes go wide when he leans his forehead against the tree with a grumbled curse.

“I suppose I am quite peckish!” you chirp, dragging him along behind you all the way to the front door. You leave your boots and gloves outside and brush some of the dried dirt from your pajamas.

You sit across from him at breakfast and catch him stealing glances at you every so often. With a mouth full of food, you wink at him with a dirt-smeared face and almost make him spit out his juice when you kick him under the table. George teases the two of you about wrestling in the mud while Molly scolds Fred about tracking it into the house.

…

Before long, you’re facing the final night of your stay. You’d been dreading the end since the beginning, and now that it’s here, you’re heartbroken. It’s been nothing but fun and you’ve never felt so wonderfully vulnerable with so many people around.

But the thing you’ll miss most is Fred. He could sense you pulling away the last couple of days. Trying to shield yourself from the impact of reality. No matter how hard he tried to cheer you up, he knew nothing could stop you thinking about how much packing up and leaving would hurt.

With your things splayed out across the floor of your temporary room, you had started packing hours ago but kept finding ways to distract yourself and avoid the idea of leaving altogether.

“Need any help?” Fred knocks on the doorframe, leaned against it and wearing the blue jumper you once told him he looked best in. You smile up at him from the floor.

“No,” you huff, “but some company would be nice.”

He perks up and shuffles around your belongings to plant himself on the edge of the bed. You had made the bed up nicely, tucked the duvet and set the pillows out nicely. He told you you didn’t have to, but you did it anyways.

After a few minutes of folding and refolding the same shirt, you stand from the floor and join him on the bed. He’s leaned back onto his elbows when he nudges your foot with his. You nudge him back but don’t turn to look at him. So he sits up and bumps you with his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, fussing with the edge of your shorts to distract himself, “Being here, I mean. As a part of our family.”

You smile down at his fiddling fingertips and inch closer, looking at him with this half-sad, half-happy look that has him confused and hopeless and head over heels and confused.

“I had a really, really nice time,” you whisper, leaning your head onto his shoulder and letting your eyes drift closed.

“So…”

You chuckle and smile to yourself, “So…?”

You sit up when the floor rattles a little, a thudding coming from the room below you. Then George shouts.

“Get it over with already!”

You both look at each other and giggle. Fred leans back again and you watch him tilt his head back and let out a sigh. His chest rises and falls beneath that damned blue sweater, and you trace your fingertips over his knuckles. He lifts his head and smiles cheekily at you, like he knows what’s going on inside your head. Like he has any idea. And for once, you think he might be pretty close.

You practically tackle him to the bed, smiling against his mouth when he cradles your face in one hand and rests the other on your waist where your shirt had ridden up from the ruckus.

You pepper soft kisses over his blushing face, leaving faintly glossy lip prints on his cheeks and nose and forehead and a stray one on the column of his neck. He goes slack against the bed, satisfied and content and happy all because of you. But still, he lazily opens his eyes and grins mischievously and says:

“Took you long enough.”

You smack your hand against his chest just hard enough to warn him.

“Oh, you’re trouble, Weasley.”

He cups your hand against his warm chest and his smile ebbs from mischief to something not as easily recognized. Something that makes him shy and pink thanks to the girl who likes the freckles across the bridge of his nose in the summer and his hands even when they’re covered in mud. Love that makes him much less sane for the girl who might just be crazy for loving him back.

And all of it makes him hold your hand and lean up to kiss you one more time.

masterlist

[drvscarlett]

Sweet Nothings (2)

Carlos Sainz x pageant queen!reader

Summary: All that they ever wanted was sweet nothings but everything changed like midnight rain.

Sweet Nothings: 1, 2, 3. 4

A/N: i indulged a lot with catriona so expect a lot of her faces. i like to build up things hehe.let me know your thoughts

YNjpeg posted a photo.

Liked by CarlosSainz55, LewisHamilton, and 543,456 others

YNjpeg thank you for the opportunity for the roundtable to discuss different issues faced by our society [link]

User4 the way she speaks says a lot about her character

User6 I dont need to see any other queen, Y/N is my Miss Universe 2024.

User7 i never knew Y/N is this knowledgeable

User9 right?? i mean before we all knew her as just Carlos' partner User10 is it bad for me to say that i think Carlos and Y/N break up is a good thing? User9 true bestie.

LewisHamilton Wonderful insights, thank you for using your voice!

YNjpeg honored to be appreciated by you Lew! LewisHamilton 👑☝️ User12 real recognize real!

User55 anyone notice that carlos is still liking?

User90 omg i just noticed that! User77 my divorced parents

F1News posted an article.

Carlos Sainz sits down talking about championships, end of contracts, and relationships.

The hottest topic in the paddock at the moment has been Carlos Sainz. He is the driver that has been to watch out for as he becomes the El Matador that crushes Red Bull's streak of victory. The soon to be ex-Ferrari driver thanks the team for building a good car and creating new strategy that allowed them to best Red Bull several times already.

It was no surprise that him and teammate, Charles Leclerc has been chasing Max down for the championship. When asked about how does he deal with the pressure, he mentioned that he kept himself grounded by a note tucked inside of his helmet. He said that the content of the notes cannot be discussed (as well as the writer of the note) but he is very grateful for it for keeping him in touch with reality. The Spaniard is currently sitting at the second place with only 2 points difference from the current champion.

"It has not yet been decided" this is what Carlos has to say regarding where he would sign next. Carlos assures everyone that there are offers but he is still weighing which will be a better option. His focus at the moment was not on the signing because as he states "if I'm a good driver then the offers will just keep coming." He wishes to focus on doing his best with his current team and reiterates that he has no ill feelings with the team.

Another hot topic that Carlos was asked about is regarding his love life. There were rumors about his split with long-time girlfriend and now running for Miss Universe, Y/N L/N. Carlos explained how he is very proud of Y/N and that he wishes all the best for her. He refused to answer questions detailing more about her since he explains that "focus on Y/N as a beauty queen and not because of her relationship. She deserves more than just being someone's girlfriend."

CarlosY/N4ever

CarlosY/N4ever me realizing that Miss Universe 2024 and the Las Vegas Grand Prix is happening together???!!!

User5 wdym together???

CarlosY/N4ever It will both happen in the 24th,the gp will go first at 2pm while the Miss Universe will start at 6pm. User5 OHMYGOD????

User7 So are we going to watch miss universe or f1???

User8 Im gonna watch both User9 rip to us with a different timezone

User10 i love how we can use Y/N's reactions for this

User11 girlie is a walking meme User13 walking meme but still elegant

User19 SO WILL THE GRID BE WATCHING????

User22 what is barbenheimer when we have this going on!!!

QueenYNUpdates just posted a reel

Well my gowns and my costumes have been carefully selected. Everything has a meaning. It is an homage for my country and of course to the best parts of myself. [Can we have any more insights about your evening gown] All I can say is that I want to make Filipinos proud and the color has a very personal meaning.

User10 Im excited to see her final look!

User12 agreeeee,her attention to details is everything!

User7 Our filipina queen! PERIODT!

User13 the color has a very personal meaning + that smile.. anyone wanted to bet with me that its ferrari red???

User15 I might cry if its really red User18 and its carlos' last year to ferrari as well User90 I just want to have a good time on this app

User55 Go fight for the crown!!!! Bring home the crown!!!

QueenYNUpdates posted a reel

[What can you say about your relationship with Carlos, everyone is curious about what happened] This is the only time, I'll talk about this. If you are looking for drama, there is no drama between the two of us. Carlos and I met when we were still young people and we grew up together. We matured as individuals..Its not a bad thing. I am extremely happy and proud of where he is right now. Were both chasing our dreams. What we are, what have been. Its all good. That's all that I have to say.

User5 This basically confirms it.

User6 we are really children of divorce

User7 CARLOS GET HER BACK, ITS NOT TOO LATE

User8 YEAH SHE IS NOT YET MISS UNIVERSE User9 BRO DON'T LET HER GO CarlosSainz55

User11 Its the miss universe curse. If the girl really wants the crown then they will undergo heartbreak

User14 why do we have to sacrifice someone?? User15 so miss universe is just like ferrari strategy? here we sacrifice a boyfriend, in ferrari we sacrifice leclerc User17 that comment got me gagged.

YNjpeg posted a photo

liked by CarlosSainz55, LandoNorris, and 876,525 others

YNjpeg I am ready to represent!!! Flying to Vegas!!!

Charles_Leclerc goodluck Miss Philippines!!

YNjpeg thank you charlieee

LandoNorris can't wait to see you take the crown

YNjpeg lando you believe in me too much LandoNorris I SAID take the crown!!! YNjpeg ON IT!

User5 im so happy that she is still being supported by the grid

User67 bring home the crown Y/N!

User8 Mark my words, she will come back with the crown!

User9 safe flight!!!

CarlosSainz55 just posted a photo.

CarlosSainz55 You always hated flying. You told me that there is a certain discomfort and uncertainty when you are a thousand feet from the ground. Right now, you are flying. I know it has a certain discomfort and uncertainty of what's to come but I believe you can find some joy in it.

You will always be the most beautiful in the universe.

User7 OMG????

User6 CARLOS I WAS UNFAMILIAR WITH YOUR GAME

User8 bro really went to tell the whole world that he will be here no matter what

User15 were always talking about how Y/N is Carlos' biggest fan but Carlos is also Y/N's biggest fan

User17 ITS TOO ERALY TO CRY

CarlosSainz55 just deleted the post.

[nmakii]

Hi! I'm not the one that requested no one is better than I am.... BUT I loved it so much! I was wondering if you could make a part two say maybe the person we ran away with turns out to be abuse or something like that and we're kinda like 'I fucked up' and realize maybe running wasn't such a good idea.... Anyway you can add your own little twist and you can ignore this if you wish <3

- rose anon 🌹

AND I KNEW YOU’D COME BACK TO ME.

— this relationship wasn’t meant to last long. all is forgiven though. alastor will forgive you.

— tangled reimagined 😮‍💨 didnt even realize it until i finished writing HAHAHAHAHA

a month later, the honeymoon period had died out. to be fair, you hadn’t exactly made a plan…crashing at a motel on the edge of mississippi, not exactly what you had in mind.

living off the scraps of what you took, pawning off your belongings. oh, this was not ideal at all. and, how your lover got when he was angry; he’d bruise your arm from gripping way too tightly whenever you didn’t get enough money. how you started to miss alastor, it’s true what they say— you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

if you were able to run once, perhaps you could just one more time? he is not as smart as alastor, you should be able to get away easily in the night.

yes, you should. after trading away many of your items, all you have left is but a satchel worth of dresses. new orleans is not particularly far with a car either.

and so, a familiar memory of running away at the dead of night. only now, it is you returning to alastor, just like he knew you would.

when you returned home, it was 2 AM. the house was just as it was when you left, albeit quite dusty now without your care.

you dropped your satchel on the dining table, just as you left it. it’s almost as if your home was abandoned when you left.

in the bedroom, your husband, sleeping peacefully— an arm clinging to your side of the bed, as if holding onto what little scent of you there was left.

when you opened the bathroom door, a silk nightgown was hung, simply waiting to be worn.

after you had changed, you sat back on your bed, the familiar smell of home coming back to you. as you laid in bed, you found yourself facing alastor.

your hands moved to bring him closer, the warm touch waking him scarily quick. “my love, you’ve returned.” he smiled, bringing you close.

your muscles tensed at the pet name, frightening reminders of the last month coming back. “hey, calm down, dear. i’m not mad.” he reassured you, awfully calmly at that. “running away; it was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

you nodded as you relaxed under his touch. “he was awful… im sorry, alastor…” you frowned. “oh, darling, i told you, didn’t i? no matter, all is forgiven.” he cooed, brushing your hair gently with his nimble fingers. “i’ll protect you from all that is bad in this world. no evil will meet you as long as i live. all i ask… is that you stay here, with me, forever— take care of our house, cook dinner, and perhaps even care for our little ones in the future?” he rambled on, a wide smile upon his face as he thinks of your future together. “ah, i’m rambling, we can discuss that in the future. in the meantime, could you do that, dear?” he asked, offering it to you as if you had a choice.

you nodded, not even looking at alastor. “good. i love you very much, don’t you know that, my dear? all i want is for you to be safe.” he told you. “…i” you started, thinking carefully of your words. “i love you too, alastor…” you said.

did you truly love him? of course you did. he took you back after you betrayed his trust, he’s a wonderful husband.

the moment the words fell from your sweet lips, a wide smile found its way onto alastor’s face. a kiss pressed upon your forehead.

his little doe finally returned his affections. it’s only a shame of his that he had to hurt your delicate heart first.

why would a single man be in a luxury store? oh, words cannot describe how thankful alastor is for your foolish naivety.

word on the street, that eugene was quite the heartbreaker. not to mention, that criminal record of his.

convincing him to go through with it wasn’t hard either. seeing a new toy that knows nothing of his record, he was more than eager to play with you. all it took was a bit of cash for him to keep up the sweetheart act.

and now that his doe was home, there’s no use for trash like that man in this world. the bruises on your arm, they were not what was intended.

all he asked was a simple grab, but it seems he got carried away, that piece of garbage.

as alastor forcefully swallowed his anger, he held you close, massaging the bruises on your wrist. “rest well, darling. you’ve been through a lot this past month.” he cooed, slowly lulling you to sleep.

oh, how excited he is that his little doe is home. to celebrate, we need a special meal, don’t we? say, there is a rare meat that alastor has been dying to try.

[infamous-if]

Dec ✮ 12 ✮ 2024 – update

Part of me hates doing these mostly because it's a whole lotta nothing and me just repeating everything I said the last update (lol) but I do like doing it because I like keeping people updated, even if it's a non-update. I may sound like a broken record (pun not intended) but I know a lot of people don't catch my updates every time so it's nice to just keep people informed yk yk

✮ — Part 2 + rewrite

Fun fact: I had written an entire essay about my excitement for the rewrite and chapter 3 and beyond but it got too long!

It boiled down to me wondering why I'm so excited for this rewrite and realizing it's because I feel comfortable enough to approach it with complete creative freedom. I wrote the first iteration of the demo with the constant worries swimming in my head like "I hope people understand what I'm trying to say here" and "I hope this situation is being read the way I intended for it to be read." And I think I sort of had those thoughts tenfold while writing Part 2. If you paid attention, you can probably see where I was trying to shut down certain discussions in the narrative lmao

Recently I had a tiny epiphany and reminded myself that it's not always about what I intend to write, but what is being understood by each reader. And yes this is basic writing 101 but let me have this moment of clarity okay. Embracing that means I can proceed with Infamous without holding back and sticking to my guns in regards to what I want for this story aka I'm just going to write what I write and like....not worry about the rest you feel (while of course integrating the common critiques and suggestions and improving on the things Infamous falls short in—I am not Shakespeare lmao)

ANYWAY my point is that I'm excited to fix up the demo !!! and just go back to it with complete confidence in myself and write whatever the heck feels right to me (and write the rest of the story lolol) and return with a better story than I have now for everyone!!

✮ — December will be for

planning what I'm going to improve and squeezing that in a reworked outline so it can flow much better narratively.

Outlining Chapter 3 and hopefully have the bare bones first draft drafted up which is mostly just be writing blocks of descriptions

I'm not sure I'll have anything substantial to justify looking for beta testers so soon yet but maybe!

work on my spice writing babey writing/reading spice makes me actually physically recoil but im determined to get better! which reminds me to finish the 6k follower gifts!

And also take a small breather because I am moving!

✮ — Patreon

I've already mentioned this on Patreon and a few times on here, but I do want to reiterate that Patreon content is coming out in bulk this month, in case anyone was wondering why I'm not posting as frequently. The content is still the same in terms of the quantity, it just won't be released every few days! thank you guys for being understanding of that <3

✮ —

My activity has is decreasing little by little due to my move but I do read every question and try to at least answer one question a day. I get quite a few mentions lately so I have to sort through those since I do get tagged in things, but I miss them due to my notifications. Usually I hope for the best and hope tracking the tag puts it on my dashboard <3 im not ignoring anyone!

That's all for now! Hope everyone has a happy December and Happy Holidays!

[sixosix]

PLASTIC FLOWERS | LYNEY

i. summary the great magician lyney wooing nine-to-fiver reader

ii. tags 1.8k words, fluff, reader is a little slow but hey that’s what 9-to-5 does to someone, pining lyney, awkward flirting, and a lot of wilted flowers im sorry…

You’ve heard of Lyney and Lynette in passing before. You might’ve rushed past one of their street performances once or twice, or maybe you stumbled upon flyers promoting their grand shows fluttering past. However, today, they are the center of every discussion, particularly Lyney, from your gushing coworkers. They swoon about how charming the young man was to them, and how exceptionally talented twins are.

You start to feel a little left out. You want to witness what all the excitement is all about, too. Your nine-to-five has you rushing back and forth the streets of Fontaine like there’s no tomorrow—and to your defense, with all the rumors and prophecies floating around, it might as well be that case.

Afternoon. Nearly evening. Your legs feel like water, liquid, and unable to keep themselves upright. You’re like a zombie walking back to your humble abode, drained of human life from too much human interaction.

A round of applause has you slowing your steps, your attention pulled towards a small crowd as if struck by a magnetic force.

A young man stands at the center, grinning devilishly as the crowd once again erupts into gasps of awe. He clutches a deck of cards in his hand, the classic image of what comes to mind when you think of magicians. Yet, you find yourself unable to move. It might be your water-legs; it might be how the man has everyone spellbound.

“Thank you, everyone!” he says, and the spell is broken at once. Was it a spell? It felt like one. “Be sure to come next week to Lynette and I’s performance at the Opera Epiclese, alright?” So he is Lyney.

Witnessing his elegance and heart-stealing smirk, you at least now know that your coworkers were certainly telling the truth.

The crowd filters out one by one. You do the same, wondering how much the tickets would cost. Hopefully no more than your usual dinner; that would mean you’d have to eat frozen bread for an entire evening.

“Wait, wait!”

You turn at the frantic exclamation, startled when Lyney is looking directly at you and rushing toward you. Panicked, you quickly scan your surroundings, only to find that there’s no one else he could possibly be referring to.

Just you.

“Hello,” you murmur begrudgingly once he’s at a close distance.

“Hi,” he says back, a little breathless. “You missed the show earlier.”

“I—I did.” Is he seriously talking to you? “But don’t worry! I saw enough. It was really cool!” Really? It was really cool?

He relaxes, his smile turning pleased. Lyney’s gaze feels heavy when you’re the only one holding onto it. “That’s a shame. I’ve seen you around before, zipping through. I won’t let you slip through my fingers this time around.”

His voice is smooth. You find yourself liking the lilac of his eyes.

At your stunned silence, Lyney continues, “Here, watch my hand closely, alright?”

You nod obediently, mostly to conceal how flustered his presence is making you feel. It feels as if his voice is right beside your ears, or it might just be how it seems like the world quiets down for this moment.

He closes his palm. You hear him huff a sweet laugh. You get distracted and glance up, though it seems it was a mistake. He grins at you knowingly, eyes twinkling—his stupid, dark eyes. You look back down, and a flower has magically appeared square on his palm.

It’s a flower you’re unfamiliar with, but it’s beautiful and smells sweet so you find yourself uncaring of whatever it could mean.

He stares patiently.

You blink, dumb-struck. “For me?”

“Of course,” he says with a dazzling grin.

“Oh, thank you, but I— I really don’t know how to take care of these things, and I’m so busy, I don’t know if I should—”

You reject it. Which, in hindsight, was most rude.

Lyney tilts his head, smiling like you’re some cute cat he found passing by—and that gaze has your words dying on your tongue. “I’m not giving it to you for you to feel burdened with the responsibility of taking care of it. Trust me, I just want you to have it.”

You look at him, uncertainty flashing in your expression. “You don’t want to give it to someone else…?”

“Why would I? I saved this one especially for you,” the sweet talker says.

You highly doubt his words, but it’s nice to hear nevertheless. With a bashful smile, you take the flower and vow to yourself to take care of it as much as you can. It’s the only flower you’ve received your entire life.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

He lights up impossibly, standing out so easily against the crowd. Just like that, you’re captivated.

The next day, Lyney reappears in your life. You're beginning to suspect that his hat conceals an infinite stockpile of these roses, and maybe that's the true magic: the enigma of Lyney's never-ending supply.

This time around, he’s loitering the streets without plans for any performances, however small. Though, he still entertains you in different ways.

“My work’s not too nice,” you tell him when he asks why you look tired, all too aware of your sore feet and cheeks from straining smiles all day. “I don’t know how you performers do it non-stop. I feel like I could just sleep on this sidewalk.”

“It might be helping that I love doing what I do,” Lyney supplies after a thoughtful hum. It’s still a little surreal having the man printed in posters and pictures all over The Steambird is now casually walking alongside you, but it’s nice. You feel your world has just brightened up a little—the new change of pace painting over the dull back and forth you’ve been living through for a while.

“Hey,” Lyney starts, as your eyes flick up from the ground to him. He’s holding another flower.

You smile as you gingerly take it from his fingers, skin brushing against his glove-free hands. “You’re helping the flower shops thrive, that’s for sure.”

“What can I say? I’m wonderful like that.”

You laugh, but it quickly dies down when you catch a glimpse of how Lyney is staring at you so openly with a bit of awe.

You clear your throat, looking away.

Lyney does the same as you find your face heating up. “Sorry.”

“Um,” scrambling for a change of topic, you say, “Are you trying to get me to watch the show you and your sister are holding next week?”

“What?” Lyney blinks, caught off guard. He smiles lopsidedly as you await for an answer. “No, I’m talking to you because I like you. And here I thought I was making myself obvious.”

“Sorry, I’m a bit slow,” you say, in a daze at his blunt confession.

That was nothing (that has to be). That was probably just your imagination, honestly—fantasizing about a handsome face, a small braid, and a mischievous grin. And you definitely don’t find yourself lying awake at night thinking about it.

As always, Lyney comes with a flower in hand. And you find out that he wasn’t lying when he said he saves a special flower for you.

You’re not sure how it seamlessly became a routine with him. At times, you wonder if he’s actually keeping track of the roses if you haven’t been throwing them to the trash. You wouldn't be able to deny it; you eventually would have to discard a once again graying rose, no matter how heartbreaking the parting is.

This time, you’re prepared. You've been studying up, like a lovesick high school student devouring dating magazines during your spare moments at work. The rose will still most likely wilt unfairly fast with how you’re barely a presence in your own home; sleeping soundly as soon as you arrive.

Lyney is smiling softly as he gives this one to you, silent. Though that’s probably because you’re raving on about how you swear that the next ones he’ll give will live longer if you figure out how to do it right.

He likes doing that—staring at you like watching a film play even though he’s the one on stage more often than not.

“Do you know what all those flowers I gave you mean?” he asks as you’re twirling it around and counting the petals. They’re still bright pink, fading to yellow at its tips. You shake your head. It could mean anything, really. You haven’t gotten to that part of the book yet. “My feelings for you,” he says. “I give them to you every day so you’re reminded of it.”

Your finger catches on one of the petals, your skin burning. “…Is that what you think? I feel horrible; the flowers you’ve given me all die in a day or two.”

Lyney laughs. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“How else can I show you I’m not just casting your feelings aside?”

You turn to Lyney, wondering why he suddenly went silent. Only then, you see how he has his face buried in his palm, a dazed smile peeking out from what’s visible. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“...Sorry.”

He recovers fast. “Don’t be sorry.” Lyney holds your jaw in a precise grip, keeping your gaze focused on him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

It’s only the next morning do you realize that the petals haven’t changed at all. You’re not sure why you haven’t noticed earlier.

Then again, you should’ve realized when he brought up what they mean so suddenly, that slick bastard.

Lyney sees you around the afternoon, and immediately he sees something new around your collar, probably because he keeps staring at it.

Lyney pulls you closer with a hand on the small of your back, and the other inspecting your brand-new necklace. “Is this…?”

It was a bit difficult to craft your own accessory, but you tried nevertheless. If Lyney goes out of his way to purchase different kinds of flowers, the least you can do is show him that each one makes you as happy as the first one did.

“You said they’re kind of like your feelings, right?” you say, unsure as to why you’re whispering. Lyney’s expression looks a little fragile. “So I made them into something to remind me of you every day.”

He presses his face onto your neck, and you nearly lose balance, holding onto the back of his head to keep yourself upright. “You’re too cute, amour. My heart can’t handle all of this,” he weeps dramatically.

( “Close your mouth, Lyney. You’re drooling,” Lynette says as she follows his gaze, watching you flutter past.

Lyney’s mouth snaps shut, wiping at his lips. He frowns. “I wasn’t even drooling.” He shakes his head. “Nevermind that—do you know who that was?”

“No,” Lynette says simply. “But I’m sure you’ll find a way to figure out eventually.” )

lyney went back to giving you real flowers after that btw

this was inspired by me daydreaming about lyney’s character quest and remembering that he literally gave us that flower accessory

[berriweb]

╰┈➤ ❝ unconditional love ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. johnathan ohnn x gn! reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings. none

: ̗̀➛ a/n. someone save me from the chokehold pathetic men have me in, especially this one in particular, Im addicted to this man😞

“does it not bother you?”

The question pulled you out of your trance, almost not catching it as you’d become so consumed in the background noise that the drama series you’d put on played on your TV. Your gaze shifted from the flashing pictures on the screen to where Johnathan laid, his lanky body entangled with your limbs, arms wrapped around your waist and his head snuggled into your chest and turned with his ear pressed right above where your heart would be so he could better view the screen.

“Hm?” You chirped at first, taking note of his refusal to turn and look at you, even if your gaze technically couldn’t be met. The episode that played showed a couple in the show going on innocent dates, something akin to a slice of life to make up for all of the building tension in the series. Part of you wondered if that was the cause of his sudden question.

“This…all of this, does it not bother you in the slightest? Our situation.” The second time around, Johnathan sat up, pulling his arms away from your body but still focusing on the screen. That part of you was right. “We don’t get to go out for dates anymore, we can’t see movies and eat at fancy restaurants- I can never see your friends or family, we can’t do any of that. How are you just okay with it?”

His words gave a mixture of guilt and frustration in his tone, and your heart aches for him. Besides the initial discussion when you first found out what had happened to your boyfriend, you two hadn’t really talked much about how things would go from then on. You just fell into a pattern that the two of you silently agreed on, and part of that agreement was that Johnathan didn’t really go out much due to his insecurities and knowing that he’d never be seen as normal, never accepted.

“Johnny, I don’t-” “And in the house too,” he started, not even seeming to realize that he’d cut you off, “I don’t have a face anymore, I’m not me. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Your hands pulled away from him before cupping his cheeks and gently turning his head to face you, eyeing the hole where his features should’ve been. He didn’t try to resist. “I’m not going to lie and act like I don’t miss your face, none of this was fair too you and you don’t deserve any of it. But I didn’t fall in love with your face, I fell in love with you. None of this is going to change that.”

“And the others? Being seen with me in public would be shameful.”

“I’m never ashamed of you.”

He let out a sigh and his head hung low, you were lucky that his expressive personality and your ability to read him so well made up for the fact that he no longer had a face to express himself with. “We can still go out, I’m never against that. If there’s anyone in my life that even thinks of shunning you like the rest of them did then so be it, I wouldn’t want to be associated with someone like that anyway.”

You silently pulled his head back down to your chest and laid your own head back, staring up at the ceiling as you felt him relax on top of you.

“How are you so good at this?” He muttered.

“I’m not, you’re just easy to influence.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“…you know, if you’re really worried about going out in public we could go see a movie or something. No one would even pay you any mind in the theater, it’ll be like baby steps. You can’t stay cooped up in here forever.”

Johnathan picked his head up to look at you. “Really?” He asked, sounding both surprised, nervous and just a tad bit excited.

“Of course, there is just one thing that does bother me though.” He tensed up for a moment, and you almost felt bad for springing the topic on him.

“What? What is it?”

“You’re gonna have to put on some clothes.”

“…that’s it?”

“I’ve been wondering for a while why you stopped, it’s just a bit weird.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve seen me naked…”

“You did it the few times we went out in public too!” You argued, and he got defensive.

“I didn’t think it mattered! It’s not like I have-”

“It’s the principle, Johnny.”

[malewifeharem]

celebrity!danheng IL

彡- ,, a collection of my brainrots about dating danheng as diff types of celebs!

cw ⁞ none unless ur allergic to hot rich dragon fluff. not proofread.

an ⁞ i put my whole badussy into this from 3 am till 8. i wasnt gonna write so much for my first post but ehe.

imagine dancer!danheng who lets you join him during dance practice. you sit quietly by the side while you keep your eyes on his sweaty, concentrated form. the song he chose blasts in the background and his sneakers squeak with each of his movements. he's dynamic, powerful, sexy and everything you could ever dream of.

sometimes he worries that you'll get bored (as if) so he glances at you occasionally to check on you. the way you flare up in embarrassment at his sharp gaze is just a bonus. you really question how you managed to woo a water dragon twice your age (dilf?) but you try not to think about it too much.

he mutters a breathy "thank you, treasure," as you hand him his bottle. he doesn't realize you smiling like an idiot as you watch him replenish himself, your eyes once again locking in on your boyfriend's ethereal features. his slick-backed hair falls across his face as he tips his head back, revealing his crystalline eyes — divine, tranquil and pure, just like a river — much like his love for you.

imagine author!danheng who dedicates all of his time writing about his one and only muse — you. in fact, he's been writing about you for lifetimes now — in every new lifetime you two share together, he vows to devote his time to only you. when he's writing, he reminisces about your past dates together and pieces his heart and memories together and masterfully fits it into a vessel. once he's done, he proudly sends it to the publisher and patiently awaits the day he can show the finished book to you.

"how do you like it?"

he asks as he curls into you closer while cuddling (aw im gonna eat him i swear), eager to hear your opinion. Although he knows you adore whatever he writes, he still wants to see the way your eyes crinkle as you shyly giggle at the parts you recognize from your own dates. he wants — no, needs — to engrave the sight and sound of you in his mind so he can write it in his next script.

god forbid if anything happens to you. after inviting you into his life, he finds himself unable to write any angsty or tragic stories — he wonders why.

imagine actor!danheng who invites you as an exclusive guest to the film set. he's currently filming for a romance drama which involves him and another actress acting out a couple of lovey-dovey scenes — nothing more than that. that's what you tell yourself as you cringe, your brain conjuring up an image of another woman kissing him outside of set. you push your seething jealousy aside till you're both back in the dressing room. he doesn't miss the way you refuse to look him in the eye as he casually discusses dinner plans with you.

"what's wrong, darling? if this is about my acting during filming, i'll reassure you once more: whatever happens on set, stays on set."

he gently tips your chin up so you're both looking eye-to-eye. he relishes in seeing you all pouty for him, he can't help but chuckle when he observes the slight glossy look of your eyes — they hold a possessive, feisty glint in them that pulls on his heartstrings in the perfect way. he sighs sweetly before pulling you in for a warm hug, his tail coiling itself around your figure — caressing your back and relieving whatever doubts and worries you held before.

"let's create our own scenes tonight, my love."

[morgana-larkin]

Me againnnn lmao I have another request could u do Melissa x reader where reader is normally quiet but someone brought up their special interest and everyone is kinda weirded out coz reader gets so happy and starts talking about it and sharing facts and stuff but no one except Melissa knows reader is autistic and someone says something mean to reader and she gets upset and Melissa comforts reader and also stands up for her (as always no pressure I’m so so so happy! u r the first person that iv come across who writes fics about Melissa and autistic reader I get so happy when I see a notification from u i literally jump up and down with happiness and your fics really help me to accept im autistic coz I’m still trying to come to terms with it anyway hope u r doing well🫶)

OMG YES! Info dumping! I love it. And I’m so glad my fics are helping you. Feel free as well to message me directly if you ever want. So my other obsession besides Lisa Ann Walter, is Doctor Who and Jodie Whittaker, so of course I chose to have the reader talk about her as the Doctor… I regret nothing 😊. I went a little extra at the end but I’m too gay for Melissa to care. Anyway, I enjoyed writing this so thank you for the prompt and I hope you like it! As always, not edited in the slightest.

For everyone, feel free to keep sending me prompts, and I was thinking about writing a one shot about Cheesy as there’s not enough imo. Let me know if I should or not.

Title based off the song from Shrek 3 and the Italian word stronzo means asshole.

Thank You for Letting Me Be Myself

Warnings: someone is mean to reader, reader struggling with having autism(small part)

Words: 2.3k

You’re sitting in the break room at the table with Barb and Melissa. You get up to get a coffee and when you do you hear someone starting to talk about Doctor Who and you perk up.

You turn around to see Jacob, Mr. Morton and another teacher talking about it. “You guys watch Doctor Who?” You say and they stop talking and look up at you. Normally you’re quiet and don’t really say much as you’re recharging before you go and have to teach your kiddos again.

“Yes, do you watch it?” Jacob asks you and you nod with a big smile. Melissa looks up at you and sees your smile and she can’t help but smile herself. She’s had a crush on you since about 4 months after you started and it’s almost been 9 months that you’re working here.

“Well come here and share your thoughts about it.” Jacob says and you walk over to them, coffee in hand.

“What exactly is your discussion about?” You ask them.

“About the first female doctor, the 13th doctor.” Mr. Morton says and you keep smiling.

“She’s my favourite doctor! Like she’s so enthusiastic and passionate and she just loves everything about what she does! And she’s so funny too, it’s just a joy to watch Jodie play her!” You start and they look at you confused, wondering why you’ve always been quiet but now you’re talkative.

The truth is, you're autistic and the only one that knows is Melissa and she promised not to tell anyone since it’s your secret not hers. You told her because you felt like you kept missing social cues or taking things too literally, so you wanted someone in your corner to help you and she had no problem doing that for you. She looks at you talking so passionately about your favourite show with a smile and heart eyes before going back to her phone, secretly still listening to you.

“And her Tardis is so amazing, oh and her companion’s compliment her so well, and her outfit looks amazing. Did you know that Jodie helped decide on the outfit to support the LGBTQ community since she’s a huge ally. And also…” and you keep going on for about 5 minutes about how much you love the 13th doctor and her era on Doctor Who. Until the other teacher, you don’t know their name, the one Mr. Morton and Jacob were talking too, says something.

“OMG! Would you please shut up!” He says and you quickly shut your mouth. “I preferred it when you didn’t speak at all.” He says, glaring at you. And you look down at the ground, embarrassed before running out of there.

Melissa looked up when he started speaking and is now getting up and walking over to them. “Hey! Don’t talk to her like that. You should count yourself lucky that I won’t contact one of my guys on you.” She says and looks at Jacob. “Why didn’t you say anything?!?” She says to him “or you?” She says to Mr. Morton.

“Sorry Melissa, it all happened so fast.” Mr. Morton says and Jacob nods in agreement.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” She says to the teacher that was mean to you.

“Hey, we were just sitting here talking about it until she cuts in and starts talking about everything that we weren’t even discussing. And she wouldn’t stop talking.” The teacher says , only making a deeper hole for himself. Melissa glares at him.

“I don’t care what you think! There’s better ways to do that!” She says to him.

“She shouldn’t have talked so much and knew that it was too much.” He says, still trying to defend himself.

“She’s autistic you stronzo!” She yells at him and then realises that she just told your secret and has wide eyes. All 3 of them look at her speechless, now understanding that you got excited and were info dumping and didn’t mean to talk so much. Melissa turns around and walks out of the break room and goes to find you.

She ends up finding you in your classroom crying on your chair, hugging your legs. She knocks on the door, “hey y/n it’s me, just wanted to come check on you.” She tells you.

You get up and unlock the door then open it. Melissa’s heart breaks a bit when she sees you. Eyes puffy, red and watery, tear stained cheeks and red nose from you blowing your nose.

“Oh hun.” She says and you walk back to your chair hugging your legs again. Melissa walks in and closes and locks the door then walks over to your desk. “Hey, he was an ass, he shouldn’t have said that to you.” Melissa tells you and crouches down and you look at her.

“No, he’s right, I was talking too much. I shouldn’t have gotten involved in their conversation. I just got so excited,” you tell her and you sniffle a bit.

“Hun, it’s understandable, I know how much you love Doctor Who. You have nothing to be ashamed about.” She tells you and grabs your hand. “Btw I might have accidentally told them that you’re autistic. As in I told them and called that teacher a stronzo for you.” She tells you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to slip out, I just got angry that he was mean to you.” She says, rubbing your hand with her thumb.

“It’s ok, they would have found out eventually. But this is another reason I don’t engage in conversations, cause I might talk too much.” You tell her. Melissa gets up and opens her arms out.

“Come here.” She tells you and motions to hug her. You put your feet down on the ground and then hug her waist since you’re still sitting in your chair. “Why don’t we go back in there, finish lunch. And then after school you can come to my place and I can make you some food and we can watch whatever you want.” She suggests and you look at her surprised.

“Really?” You ask her and she nods. “I would love that.” You tell her and she smiles. She helps you up and then unlocks the door and opens it for you. You both walk out and she sees you’re nervous about going back. She puts an arm wrapped around your back and her other hand on the arm closes to her and rubs it, providing comfort for you.

You get back in and when you enter everyone stops and looks up at you. Melissa can feel you immediately tense up. “What are all youse looking at?” She says and glares at everyone. Everyone immediately looks back down to their phone or food and continues what they were doing. Melissa leads you back to the table where Barb is and Barb gives you a comforting smile.

The teacher that was mean to you gets up and comes over to you. Melissa sees him coming over and glares at him, almost daring him to hurt you again. He has his head hanging a bit, looking embarrassed and stands beside you and you look up at him.

“Hey y/n, I just wanted to apologize to you. I shouldn’t have said what I said to you, I’m sorry.” He tells you and you nod your head at him. You’re too overwhelmed right now and can’t speak. You finish your lunch without saying another word and Melissa keeps glancing at you, worried about you.

You finish up the day quietly. You get the kids to work on their book report so that it’s silent and you don’t have to talk much. At the end of the day, when your last student was picked up you glance over at Melissa down the hall. You taught first grade so your classrooms are close together.

You can’t help but stare at her. She’s bending over and offering one of her students a high five before waving bye to them to go with their parent. You decide to leave now while she’s distracted, you think that maybe it wasn’t the best to get Melissa involved in your situation and shouldn’t have told her you’re autistic. So many people have had to accommodate you or help you and you feel like you should be able to do it yourself now that you’re an adult.

Melissa sees you look at her with a sad expression on your face before leaving. She can’t help but feel like maybe you won’t come over to her place now. When her last student is leaving with their parent a couple minutes later, she practically books it to the parking lot but sees your car is already gone.

She drives home and gets to work on cooking dinner, hoping you’d show. But then she gets a text from you saying that you won’t be able to make it tonight, and she sighs. She researched autism when you told her a few months ago and she knows that when autistic people get overwhelmed, they hide themselves away. She offered for you to come to her place to de-stress with food and tv, so she does the next best thing. After she finished cooking, she packed it into a container, and brought it with her to your place. She went and knocked on your door.

You answered it not too long later with leggings and loose shirt on. “Melissa? What are you doing here?” You ask her.

“Well since you won’t come over to my place, I thought I’d come to you.” She says with a warm smile and you now feel even more guilty for cancelling on her. “I brought over food I made. So either we can eat here or we can go back to my place. Choice is up to you.” She tells you with a shrug. You decide to go to her place and when you get there she gives you your favourite hoodie of hers and you sit on the couch. You’ve been to her place before and you told her that the plastic felt weird to sit on and she removed it the next day so that you’re comfortable when you go there. “Hey, you don’t have to speak but I just want to know that you’re ok.” She says and you nod. She gives you a plate of the food and you see that it’s her spaghetti and meatballs dish. Your favourite food of hers and you smile at her. She joins you on the couch, sitting next to you and then hands you the remote so you can decide what to watch, you decide on Shrek 3.

You watch the movie while eating, with Melissa right next to you, you in her hoodie, and you finally feel like you’re calming down. You put your head on her shoulder after you put your empty plate on the coffee table and she wraps her arm around you. You continue the movie, quoting some of the lines, and when it plays the ending scene with puss and donkey singing thank you, Melissa gets an idea. She guides you up and leads you to the empty space beside her couch and starts dancing with you. When the chorus comes on she sings it to you “I wanna thank you for lettin me be myself…again” She sings and you laugh. When she says the line again, she spins you while singing. The second chorus comes up “come on sing it with me.” She tells you.

The both of you sing it while dancing “I WANNA THANK YOU FOR LETTIN ME BE MYSELF…AGAIN.” You both sing at the top of your lungs. When it ends you’re both laughing and she hugs you.

“Thank you for letting me be myself.” You tell her and she looks at you with a warm smile and places a lock of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek.

“It’s not a problem hun, it doesn’t matter to me that you’re autistic you know. You just think differently, and that's alright.”

You look in her eyes and you lean forward and kiss her. Melissa kisses you back and moves her hand from your cheek to the back of your head and places her left hand on your waist. You pull back and look at her with a smile.

“You kissed me back.” You say to her and she nods. “Why?”

“Because I like you. I have for a few months now.” She tells you.

“For how long?” You ask her and she thinks about it.

“Around the new year.” And you look at her in shock.

“But that’s after I told you I was autistic.” You tell her, putting the pieces together. “You knew I was autistic and you still like me?” You question her.

“How would you being autistic make me not like you?” She asks you, confused.

“Because I’m different than other people and have struggles because of it.” You tell her like it’s obvious.

“So? Everyone is different in their own way and everyone has their own struggles.” She tells you. “For example, I have trouble letting people in, because of trust issues. And I can have a short temper too.” She says and you look at her with so much love in your eyes. You kiss her again and she doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back.

When the person says “you may kiss the bride” , she doesn’t hesitate to give you a kiss then either. With a huge smile, she brings you closer to her and gives you a kiss, as wife and wife.

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hotch unconsciously favouring new bau!reader and she doesn’t even notice 😭😭 she just thinks he’s super sweet and everyone is like 🤨🤨 where’s our special treatment aye?

WHERE DO WE GO NOW | A. HOTCHNER

warnings: mostly fluff, but a kiss?

an: SORRY I TOOK SO LONG HOPE YOU LOVE IT, ignore how bad im at writing like technical fbi stuff lol

as he returns to his seat on the jet, hotch gives you a pack of food and some water. you put your earplugs back in after grinning and thanked him. morgan smirked at his boss's strange actions, but he remained silent.

"all right, let's briefly review the case's facts. while morgan and prentiss travel to the M.E., jj and reid head to the crime site. y/n and i will head over to receive a briefing. okay, everyone, let's get going."

you smooth your dress down and collect your belongings, trailing hotch in the process. as soon as you enter, he opens the door for you and goes inside for a briefing.

"the victim's boyfriend last spoke with shelby at 9:02 p.m. we spoke with the bartender at jack's bar, where she was around for the majority of the evening at 9:30. we are currently obtaining the security footage from her. tell my staff or me if you need anything."

spencer said as he left the room, "i'm going to call garcia and ask for access to the security cameras sooner rather than later."

"how's jack doing?"

"he is doing well! he does, however, truly miss you, especially your homemade chocolate chip cookies."

"does he miss the cookies or do you?" you chuckle.

Thinking to himself, "I will not answer that question," you smile and wondered who else he let his guard down for. we was always open to you, even though he never discussed his past with others.

"what would you say about you, jack, and I visiting the aquarium? ever since you got him that ipad, he has been telling me about dolphins, and i get texts all the time."

as he takes a sip of coffee, reid enters the room and says, "garcia has found the camera footage. what did I ruin something?"

1 HOUR LATER

"as of right now, it appears that the unsub prefers women who are between the ages of late 20 and early 30. Every victim carries a huge risk, and I think he enjoys the possibility of exposure. kidnapped from bar parking lots despite the fact that his face is constantly hidden. he has a dark-colored van and it's clear by the signature he injures the victim, since he has a long-term damage of his own.

"y/n i would prefer if you would lay low on this case, you fit the profile and i don't want anything to happen to you."

"are you certain? given the profile, it could be the greatest option for us."

he nods while leaning back in your chair, knowing that he thought too highly of you to see you be in harms way. you have no idea how much more than you realized he cared for you.

"fine, do not put yourself into a situation where you know it will end bad."

the remaining members of the team carrying on the discussion regarding the unsub's actions. garcia chiming in with men who match the description. you gently brush your hair away from your face and glance at the hotch. even though you quickly avert his gaze, you can still feel his eyes on you.

"i'm sorry to break this terrible news, but I believe there is a match for this suspect. i'm sending you travis's records and the last two address on file." the group leaps up and sprints towards the available cars. together, you and hotch jump into the car navigating your way to his address.

you get out of the car as soon as you get there. as you search the house, some of the team arrives, and you head upstairs. Your mouth is grabbed by a hand and you are slid into a room. you fall as a result of your head slamming into the wall.

you were able to get up and cause him to lose his balance by kicking the back of his knees. your body reverts to its limp form. travis limps his way back toward your body. there's a shot, and you reach for your gun. You turn to face the hotch, who is gripping his gun.

You say, "thank you," as he helps you leave the house. doctors are rushing to your side right away. hotch stays by your side throughout the whole thing. It is a blessing to have someone who is as concerned as he is.

He asks in jest, "so you still up for the aquarium?"

TINY BONUS

With your earbuds in but the volume down enough to hear the entire conversation, the team continues to tease you on the flight back. "Where's our special treatment?" you chuckle to yourself in private.