#( sorry for the late reply i've been in the hospital! )

[eric-the-bmo]

Trick or treat! Heres my costume

Ooh, spooky! Have some candy, Happy Halloween! ☆🎃☆

[thistlecrimes]

Things I've learned from getting covid for the first time in 2023

I wear an N95 in public spaces and I've managed to dodge it for a long time, but I finally got covid for the first time (to my knowledge) in mid-late November 2023. It was a weird experience especially because I feel like it used to be something everyone was talking about and sharing info on, so getting it for the first time now (when people generally seem averse to talking about covid) I found I needed to seek out a lot of info because I wasn't sure what to do. I put so much effort into prevention, I knew less about what to do when you have it. I'm experiencing a rebound right now so I'm currently isolating. So, I'm making a post in the hopes that if you get covid (it's pretty goddamn hard to avoid right now) this info will be helpful for you. It's a couple things I already knew and several things I learned. One part of it is based on my experience in Minnesota but some other states may have similar programs.

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The World Health Organization states you should isolate for 10 days from first having symptoms plus 3 days after the end of symptoms.

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At the time of my writing this post, in Minnesota, we have a test to treat program where you can call, report the result of your rapid test (no photo necessary) and be prescribed paxlovid over the phone to pick up from your pharmacy or have delivered to you. It is free and you do not need to have insurance. I found it by googling "Minnesota Test to Treat Covid"

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Paxlovid decreases the risk of hospitalization and death, but it's also been shown to decrease the risk of Long Covid. Long Covid can occur even from mild or asymptomatic infections.

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Covid rebound commonly occurs 2-8 days after apparent recovery. While many people associate Paxlovid with covid rebound, researchers say there is no strong evidence that Paxlovid causes covid rebound, and rebounds occur in infections that were not treated with Paxlovid as well. I knew rebounds could happen but did not know it could take 8 days. I had mine on day 7 and was completely surprised by it.

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If you start experiencing new symptoms or test positive again, the CDC states that you should start your isolation period again at day zero. Covid rebound is still contagious. Personally I'd suggest wearing a high quality respirator around folks for an additional 8-9 days after you start to test negative in case of a rebound.

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Positive results on a rapid test can be very faint, but even a very faint line is positive result. Make sure to look at your rapid test result under strong lighting. Also, false negatives are not uncommon. If you have symptoms but test negative taking multiple tests and trying different brands if you have them are not bad ideas. My ihealth tests picked up my covid, my binax now tests did not.

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EDIT: I'd highly suggest spending time with friends online if you can, I previously had a link to the NAMI warmline directory in this post but I've since been informed that NAMI is very much funded by pharmaceutical companies and lobbies for policies that take autonomy away from disabled folks, so I've taken that off of here! Sorry, I had no idea, the People's CDC listed them as a resource so I just assumed they were legit! Feel free to reply/reblog this with other warmlines/support resources if you know of them! And please reblog this version!

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I know that there is so much we can't control as individuals right now, and that's frightening. All we can do is try our best to reduce harm and to care for each other. I hope this info will be able to help folks.

[bratzbrat]

✟The Witch Hunter!

pairing: a witch!hunter! Katsuki Bakugo x fem!reader.

cw: mentions of death!/ death threats! | female reader! | mature language! | please proceed with caution! |

1.7k+ words.

ΝϴͲᎬ: hi bugs! sorry it took this long for chapter 4! but I've been up at late hours taking care of my grandma and carrying her for check ups at the hospital these past few days. she's doing better now! so hope ya enjoy!

⊰𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 pt.1⊱ »»————> Bitter Hunter...

"good, you're up," he grunted, noticing your glare as you struggled against the shackles. "we're continuin' on foot."

"are you serious?" you scoffed, tugging against the restraints. "you went all the way back there, just to chain me up again?"

"damn right i did," he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "ain't giving ya' any more chances to use yer tricks."

rolling your eyes, you rose to your feet, "if i wanted to do anything, I would've done so last night..." you scowled, shaking off the cold stiffness lingering in your body from the night before. "so, you're going to drag me through the snow like this?" and your eyes widened as you realized... you were already dressed... though the delicate silver armor that once adorned your core, was missing, but he didn't give you much time to dwell on it

"got a problem?" he challenged, folding his arms. "didn't think so. now, move it." he gripped your arm and tugged you forward with a curt, "let's go."

as he dragged you out of the little house, you we're met with green sceneries, all around, as if snow hadn't almost buried you alive last night, and you gawked at the sight in disbelief. the forest floor was covered in patches of grass and flowers, you could hear the faint sound of running water in a nearby river and birds chirping from their homes in the towering trees. it was unbelievable. and the hunter tugged you forward, to start walking.

you tried keeping pace behind him, your breath picking up as you struggled to follow. the chill in the morning air and the heels you wore were doing you no favors. and each time he pulled on your chains, you winced, feeling bruises form on your wrists.

"can't you at least ease up a bit?" you suggested, trying to maintain a light tone, despite your growing fatigue. "it's not like i'm going anywhere."

"shut it, witch," he shot back, focus unwavering as he navigated the uneven terrain. "the last thing I need is you fallin' behind."

you huffed, rolling your eyes. "well i'm not exactly keen on being here. you're the one dragging me behind you."

"i could leave yer ass here, if you'd like." he muttered, and you could hear the overflowing sarcasm in his voice.

"is this your idea of kindness, then? like last night?" you asked, tilting your head slightly. "what generousity from a witch hunter."

"don' twist it," he growled, glancing back at you with that familiar scowl. "it was survival. that's it. nothin' more."

"sure it was, it's not like you were pressing my bare chest into yours... with your fingers almost digging into my back, might I add..." you retorted, unable to help yourself from teasing him a little. "i thought maybe we'd formed a connection, you know?"

"don' get ahead of yourself," he replied, barely sparing you a glance. "it wasn't like that, it ain't like that, and it won't ever be." he stressed, "i'll never feel anythin' for a witch."

you felt a sting at his words, but you quickly brushed it off. "right, it's ridiculous to think otherwise..." you muttered to yourself.

every step you took was met with sharp rocks and thorny brambles, tearing at your exposed ankles. the blonde hot head, grunted in frustration, each time you stumbled, with a scowl etched across his almost perfect face. the shackles clinked with every move, limiting your balance and speed. when you tripped over an uneven stone and landed hard on your knee, he clicked his tongue in annoyance, folding his arms as if to say, 'of course.'

"can't even walk fuckin' straight without makin' things harder, can ya'?" he growled, looking back at you on the ground.

you shot him a glare, pulling yourself up. "maybe I wouldn't keep tripping if I wasn't chained up like this!"

"maybe you wouldn't be, if I trusted you," he shot back, with a slight bit of mockery in his tone. "now stop whinin' and keep movin'."

your steps felt heavier the longer you walked, and your shoes—meant for anything but landscaping— only worsened the ordeal. a sharp pain pulsed through your foot as you stumbled once more, and you let out a frustrated huff.

"agh- my feet—" you started.

and mr. hot head cut you off with an annoyed snarl, "then quit wearin' those ridiculous fuckin' shoes. ain't doin' anyone favors with 'em."

you bit your tongue, resisting the urge to snap back. the exhaustion was setting in, making it harder to ignore the ache in your feet, the rawness of your wrists and the ever-growing hunger gnawing at your stomach. finally, you had enough.

"stop," you said, tugging back against his grip. "we need to rest."

he spun around, eyes narrowed in irritation. "y'think just 'cause yer tired we're takin' a break? newsflash, princess: we ain't got the luxury."

you stood firm, refusing to budge. "you can grunt all you want, i'm not going anywhere until I can feel my feet again."

he let out a rough exhale, "we're movin', even if I gotta drag ya' the whole way." clearly at the end of his patience.

you dropped to the ground with a huff, closing your eyes for a moment, letting the brief reprieve calm your pounding heart. and you could feel his glare fixed on you.

you looked up at him, undeterred by his hostility. "without my cooperation, we'd have a pretty slim chance of making it out of here alive, you know." you said, your tone unwavering.

his eyes narrowed down at you again and his jaw clenched at your words. "i don' need a godsdamn witch's help," he sneered, "just need you alive long enough to haul your ass back to stand trial. if i gotta drag ya' the whole way there, i will."

"and what then? you think a stiff-necked trial will do anything but waste everyone's time?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes. you could get out of this anytime you wanted...

his lips curled into a bitter smirk. "that stiff-necked trial decides the exact way yer gonna die." he lowered himself down in front of you, "people 're gonna pay good coin to see yer head roll." and sneered, making sure he looked you dead in the eyes. " 'n if they choose torture instead, i'll make sure ya' beg for death. 'cause i'll be the one carryin' it out." his eyes drifted from yours to your slightly parted lips, then quickly darted back up again.

"before that, hunter, i'll make you beg for the help of a witch." you challenged, getting a little lost in his fire.

his words had snapped a few heartstrings that formed when held you for warmth, and you cursed yourself for feeling even a ounce of anything for him, as you looked into his crimson eyes. "so beautiful," you whispered, barely audible and he shuffled back a bit, glaring at you.

you met his stare again, shaking off that thought. "you better pray to the goddess, that we don't run into trouble. you might be strong, but even the strongest have their weaknesses."

he scoffed at your —uncalled for— words, but the flicker of hesitation in his eyes was there, even if, just for a second. ignoring it, he gave a sharp tug on your arm, forcing you back to your feet. "we're wastin' daylight. let's go." was all he brought himself to say.

-

the hours crawled by as you trudged forward and just when you thought you couldn't bear it any longer, you saw a small village ahead, nestled in the valley, like it was forgotten by the rest of the world.

he paused, surveying the huts and cabins, with a tense expression before turning to you. "listen up," he commanded, "keep any 'n all of your... witch crap hidden. last thing I need is anyone seein' me with a livin' one o' you."

"aw, and we were just on the brink of becoming friends too..." you pouted, feigning disappointment.

"try anythin', and I mean at all, and you'll regret it." he shot you a sharp glare, and you had to suppress an amused laugh.

"we wouldn't want that, would we?" you teased, locking eyes with him just before he tugged at your chains, leading you into the village.

you trailed behind him, your eyes drifting over the skeletal remains of what used to be a village. crumbling huts and rotting beams cast shadows across the ash-covered ground, each step stirring up fragments of the life that had once been here. and the only sounds being the crunch of your footsteps.

"oi, witch, keep up. ain't got all day for you to gawk at some broken-down village." he grunted in irritation, glancing back to see you lingering near one of the collapsed structures.

you raised a brow. "what's the matter? are you scared a curse might rub off on you?" you teased.

"tch," he scoffed, turning away from you. "i ain't scared of some pathetic curse. just don' wanna spend any more time in witch-infested places than I gotta." but that wasn't it. something else had been rubbing him in all wrong ways as he scanned the area.

a smirk tugged at your lips as you followed him, sensing his unease. "you're jumpier than I expected for a witch hunter," you muttered under your breath, knowing he could hear.

he whipped around, "i'm not a witch hunter, i'm the witch hunter. the best there is. so watch it. witch." he spat back, quick to correct you.

rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms. "if you were actually the best, you'd know curses don't stick like that."

"like i'd trust anythin' ya' say, witch. all yer people do is twist words to get what ya' want." he sneered, glaring back at you.

shaking your head, you brushed past him, challenging his intense stare. "believe what you will, hunter. and you better hope your strength is enough, for if we run into anything more than a curse here."

you jinxed it...

a low, guttural rumble vibrated through your body, a sound that sent a chill down your spine. and you spun around, searching for what that could've possibly come out of. your mind racing as you considered what kind of creature was watching you— a tiger? bear? something worse?

find the previous chapters in my masterlist!

chapter 4 pt.2

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed!

you can also comment to be added to the taglist for

✟The Witch Hunter!

plz check ur privacy settings before commenting to be tagged!

©𝐵𝑙𝑢♡

»»————>𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@annepamgkrth @pikachuzhc @icedemon1314 @d1orhaz3 @alyssasblogthings @katsucookies @hashahasha @mythicalmo @k0z3me @nanaanatiion

[winchesterwild78]

A Secret Revealed

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warning: Physical violence, language.

A/N: Just a quick short story I came up with after seeing a post featuring the above gifs.

Dean and you had been hunting together for as long as you could remember. You’d shared laughter, tears, and countless late nights together. Your bond was as strong as any friendship could be, but there was a secret that had been simmering beneath the surface for years. You were in love with Dean, and You were sure he didn’t feel the same way. But you never voiced your feelings, afraid it would ruin your friendship

One Friday night, after a particularly grueling week of hunting, the two of you decided to unwind at a local bar. As you sat at the counter, nursing your drinks, a man approached you. He was charming and confident, and before you knew it, you were dancing close together. You could feel Dean's eyes on you, but you tried to ignore it.

As the night wore on, the man became more and more insistent. His hands were all over your body while the two of you danced. He would whisper in your ear, causing you to giggle. Finally with confidence, he leaned down and kissed you. Dean, who had been watching from afar, saw what happened. He stood up and walked over to the man. Before you could stop him, he had started a fight.

“Get the fuck off of her!” Dean growled.

Trying to break it up, you were pushed to the ground. You fell on your wrist and  let out a cry of pain. Dean immediately stopped fighting and rushed to your side. He knelt down and cradled your head in his lap.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

You nodded, but you couldn't stop the tears from flowing. Dean gently wiped them away.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I should have never started that fight."

"It's not your fault," You replied, your voice barely a whisper. "It's mine. I should have been more careful."

Dean looked at you with a serious expression. "I can't let you get hurt like that," he said. "I love you, Y/N. I've loved you for years."

Your heart pounded in my chest. You’d been waiting for him to say those words for so long.

"I love you too, Dean," You replied, finally admitting your feelings.

Dean smiled, pulling you into a searing kiss. “Let’s get out of here sweetheart. First to the hospital, then back to the room. We have some catching up to do.” 

Tags are open, if you want to be added, let me know.  

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@lmg14

[poisonlove]

Lust 3 +18 | Jenna Ortega

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head towards the entrance of our classroom, a smile playing on my lips. Suddenly, a faint buzz emanates from my pants pocket. Confused, I stop to read the message.

Katia: Where on earth did you disappear to?

Katia: I've been waiting in the bathroom for at least 10 minutes!

Katia: [meme of a cat with a raised eyebrow]

I roll my eyes in annoyance and sigh in frustration.

Me: Had an unexpected issue.

I close the chat and step into our classroom. My eyes immediately search for Jenna among the desks, but her silhouette isn't visible. Surprised, I widen my eyes when I see her seated at her desk behind the lectern. Her brown eyes briefly scrutinize me before returning to her computer.

"You're late," she declares simply without bothering to look at me. "Sorry, Jenna," I respond still in shock, and the brunette looks at me again.

"I am Professor Ortega," she states seriously, and I blink incredulously.

I head to my seat next to Jackson, but the professor's voice calls me back.

"So? Where are the apologies?" I turn, nervously swallow saliva, seeing Jenna observing me with crossed arms while sitting on the lectern. Her eyes convey a mix of fear and excitement.

"Apologies for the delay, Professor Ortega," I mutter through gritted teeth, and Jenna parts her lips in a satisfied and charming smile.

Visibly irritated, I slump into the chair at the back of the class, shooting a glare of anger at Jackson.

"Where the hell were you? I've been waiting for you this morning!" I whisper through my teeth, trying not to attract attention.

"Sorry, had to take my brother to school…" Jackson looks at me guiltily. "Mom was in a rush to get to the hospital for her nursing shift and couldn't drop off Bill," he concludes with a small apologetic smile.

I knew the responsibility Jackson had towards his brothers, considering his mother worked hard to support them. His father, on the other hand, had run away years ago with a woman ten years younger.

"Okay," I say, smiling slightly, trying to ease the tension.

I sit down and start arranging books and supplies on the desk. Jackson, with a raised eyebrow, breaks the silence.

"I must say, the professor is quite cute," he comments mischievously, and I huff to tacitly emphasize his observation.

"Seriously," I reply, looking closely at Jenna. She looked so sexy while focused on typing something on the computer… her eyes fixed on the screen and her teeth absentmindedly nibbling on her lower lip.

Jenna looks up from the computer and glares at us.

"Are you done talking?" she asks with boredom.

"We?" a couple of students in front of her inquire, and Jenna rolls her eyes in response. "No, just these two," she declares, rising from her chair. Jenna walks around the lectern and sits on it, swinging her legs back and forth rhythmically.

"What's your name?" she asks seriously, looking me straight in the eyes.

Silence falls in the classroom.

"Martina Smith," I reply, feeling strangely intimidated. Jackson, uncomfortable, answers, "Jackson Mills."

"Smith," Jenna says, savoring my last name, smiling mockingly. "If you don't stop talking, you'll sit in the front row, okay?" she announces, and I open my mouth indignantly.

"Why do I have to be punished alone?" I protest spontaneously, but Jenna genuinely smiles.

"Because yes, last warning," Jenna warns, stepping down from the lectern with a look of boredom in her eyes.

"But it's unfair! The whole class is talking," I protest animatedly, but her stern gaze stops me.

"Come forward," she says seriously.

"What?" I ask as my eyes search for Jackson's, who is trying in vain to hold back laughter.

"Sorry, dear." Jenna walks slowly towards the girl sitting alone in the front row. Hayley was the typical girl who perfectly embodies the role of the class nerd: glasses, braces, and that annoying urge to prove she's intelligent. Hayley is cute, but certainly not my type.

"Yes… Professor Ortega?" she says timidly, and Jenna smiles sincerely as she bends down and rests a hand on her shoulder. "Can you gather your things and go back? To Smith's seat," she says, and I scoff at her statement.

Hayley gathers her stuff and quickly walks towards my direction, waiting for me to stand up.

Reluctantly, I rise, causing a dull noise from the chair, and collect my materials. I walk towards the front row with an irritated air, while Jenna follows me with her gaze.

Jenna walks towards the blackboard, turning her back to the class. My eyes intensely watch her ass before noticing she raises a hand and writes something with chalk.

Well, one positive thing is that I have a front-row view.

"My name is Jenna Ortega, and I'll be your literature teacher this year." The way she pronounces the words conveys authority and determination.

At that moment, a girl raises her hand, seeking permission to speak. Jenna grants her the opportunity.

"Are you the one who wrote the book 'Black Roses'?" she asks with curiosity, catching my attention.

Jenna responds with a confirming smile, "Yes, that's me."

The class is suddenly filled with whispers of excitement and awe. The girl who asked the question seems thrilled. "I loved that book! It truly changed my perspective on things."

Jenna responds gratefully, "Thank you, I'm glad you appreciated it. If you have any questions or comments about the book or any topic in class, feel free to express them."

"Is she a writer?" My question sounds almost surprised, and Jenna's eyes shift in my direction, putting me in the spotlight for her icy gaze.

"Yes," she says, clearing her throat, "but if you're wondering why I'm here, it's because I wanted to explore new frontiers," she says with a smile on her lips.

"We're glad to have you visit," a boy interjects, and Jenna looks at him scornfully without saying a word.

Jenna looks at the class with a scrutinizing gaze. "Alright, everyone, before we dive into the new topic, I'd like to know where you left off with the study of English literature. Anyone want to share?"

After a brief silence, a boy timidly raises his hand. Jenna grants him the floor with a smile. "We finished the year with Romanticism. We analyzed works by poets like William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge."

Jenna nods appreciating the response. "Great, Romanticism is a fascinating period. I hope you found exploring those texts stimulating."

Jenna smiles, "Today, we'll begin a journey through the Gothic genre in English literature. We'll explore works by authors like Mary Shelley, Edgar Allan Poe, and Bram Stoker. This genre roots itself in dark atmospheres, mysteries, and often delves into the recesses of the human psyche. I hope you're ready for an intriguing and often frightening journey into Gothic literature."

The bell rings, and Jenna claps her hands with enthusiasm. "Well, it seems our hour is up," she smiles widely as many students prepare their backpacks to change classes.

Before I can reach the exit, the teacher's voice stops me again. "Smith… can you stay for two minutes?" I sigh and walk towards the lectern. Jenna looks at me through her long lashes. "Have you learned your lesson?" she asks, surprising me.

"Lesson? I haven't done anything," I spontaneously say, and Jenna smirks mockingly. "Respect. I'm sorry for calling you a kid, but don't behave like one," she says, looking at me seriously. "And don't be late," she adds coldly.

I sigh, trying to avoid giving a rude response. All I can think about is how to earn points and get to know her better. "I apologize, Professor, but I'm the type who prefers to make an entrance with style," I joke, and Jenna looks at me indifferently.

My eyes move downward, and I see the gold ring on her ring finger. "Are you married?" I ask with curiosity and an indifferent tone. Honestly, the obstacle of marriage didn't matter much to me, and I was sure it wouldn't be a problem.

"Yes," she smiles, but her smile seems dim, almost forced.

I place my hands against the lectern and lean towards her, Jenna's eyes looking at me with confusion. I suppress a groan threatening to escape my mouth as I smell her perfume invading my nostrils. "You don't seem very happy," I say, invading her personal space and private life. "These are not your business, Smith," Jenna looks at me seriously, her lips thinning, erasing any trace of a smile.

Her indifference and coldness excited me to death… but it was still too early.

"I apologize, Professor," I swallow saliva and smile timidly, "now I have to go to another class," I say distractedly, and Jenna nods slowly.

"See you soon," I say, smiling slightly before leaving the class without expecting a response in return.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hii, I love your writing and how you portray the characters. You can just ignore this if you want(i alr tried this once, so pls just ignore this if it's annoying😭)

But I was wondering if you could write a Male reader who works in the BAU and has a motorcycle he's obsessed with, or something like that?

(Thank you sm if you do actually write this🙏)

Also, can I be 🎸 -anon?(if it's available?)

Don't worry it didn't annoy me whatsoever, I've just got quite a few asks at the minute (70) so I don't always see things straight away! 🎸is still available (it's on the anon list but that's from your previous ask - also generally speaking if I ever miss out an anon please let me know).

I don't know how this fic came about it just did... lol

Also I'm combing this with your previous ask too since it's the same vibe :) Hope you enjoy!

(Previous ask: Hey, I love your fics so much, and you can ignore my ask if you want. But I was just wondering if you could do a Male reader with a motorcycle? Like, reader takes really good care of his motorcycle, or nobody knows that reader owns a motorcycle? It just seems really cool and it's been in the back of my mind, and you write really well.)

Warnings: pregnant jj because I've realised I've never mentioned her pregnant before, childbirth, labour (not onscreen)

Your car had broken down. Usually, you’ve drive to work, bright and breezy and be sat at your desk at 7am, cup of coffee in hand, exchanging longing glances to your girlfriend (JJ), and listening to Reid’s latest fact. Today, however, not so much. 

You got into your car and turned the key. It came to slowly, groaning as it did. You didn’t even make it out of your driveway before the engine cut. You groaned, grabbing your bag and going back inside the house. You put on the necessary gear, helmet included, and grabbed your bag once more. 

Throwing the bag in your under seat storage, you hopped on, engine quickly roaring to life before you were racing down the road. 

Strangely enough, everyone was running late. And so, as you pulled up to work, the team were all catching up outside and about to walk in. 

JJ sighed, seeing the bike pull in. She always worried about you when you rode. She placed a hand on her upper stomach, the action soothing. The last thing she needed was the father of her child getting into a motorcycle accident on his way to work.

Morgan gave a low whistle, seeing the motorbike. A full black Triumph Bonneville T100, a classic, a beauty. 

“Holy shit,” Morgan grinned, “You ride this thing?”

“No, I actually walked to work next to it the entire journey.” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“No need to be snarky,” He snorted.

“Sorry, no coffee this morning,” You replied, JJ nodded in understanding, hand placed on the bump on her stomach. 

“Babe, you told me you wouldn’t ride to work- ah!” JJ cut herself off with a short inhale.

“JJ?” You asked softly. “You good?”

“I think my water just broke.” JJ said said, taking another breath.

“Oh, okay, that’s fine- wait, what?” You asked, face paling. “But you’re not due for another two weeks-”

“Does this look like the face of someone who doesn’t know that?” She snapped. 

You looked around helplessly for a second. “You know what would get you to the hospital fast-?” You said, motioning to your motorcycle.

“I’m not getting on that death trap, go get my car.”

You give a small nod, “Yes Ma’am.” 

Morgan gave a laugh, “Day trip to the hospital, I guess.” 

“Aunty Penny is ready!” Garcia exclaimed holding up two bags.

“What- where did you even get that?”

“I knew you would have an absolutely flap over this, so I decided to be prepared.” She grinned. “Now go get the car.”

“Right, right. Car.” You nodded. “Keys. Keys?”

“Keys.” Garcia said, handing them over. With that you ran off to get JJ’s car. 

[cryptidcorners]

Could I have a fluffy imagine/one-shot of Mike with a librarian girl? Like Mike goes back to the place he got the dream book from, and now he wants something to get his mind off (the trauma of the movie) so the librarian helps him find something else he’d like. Maybe a Sherlock Holmes detective or something. Thanks so much!

~ Mike Schmidt x Reader ~

= Title: Friendly Nostalgia

= Character: Mike Schmidt

= Media: Movie!Five Nights At Freddie's

= Prompt: N/A

= Description: The aftermath of Mike's job as a security guard had got him thinking, as well as tripled his internal hardships. In an attempt to cool his troubling mind, Mike decides to go into his old library to find one of his favorite literatures, and maybe a new friend along the way.

= Request: "Could I have a fluffy imagine/one-shot of Mike with a librarian girl? Like Mike goes back to the place he got the dream book from, and now he wants something to get his mind off (the trauma of the movie) so the librarian helps him find something else he’d like. Maybe a Sherlock Holmes detective or something. Thanks so much!"

= Tags: Fluff ! Small Angst? Librarian Reader + Setting, Shy Mike, Sweet Talk, One-Shot, Platonic (with Slight Romantic Implications? It's up for you to decide !) + Reader is !Fem

= Warnings: Childhood Trauma + Kidnapping Mentions, Child Death/Spirits, Struggles with Mental Health (Depression, Anxiety, Stress) + FNAF Movie Spoilers !

Morning birds flocked through the featherweighted clouds thinning across the fresh sky. A chilled exhale rattled out of Mike's throat, the cold dawning air nipping at his skin. His head was foggy with exhaustion, yet flickering with soft excitement. The streets were empty, much to his content. Crowded boulevards and sputtering car exhaust muddied his senses, he hated it more than anything.

He shoved his reddened hands down his pockets to shield the breezes from his fingertips. Mike hated the overwhelming traits of the outside world even more after his accursed job as a solo-unit of security. The crumbled children in the machines, Vanessa wilting away within her hospital bed and William. It was too much and he couldn't handle it.

This whole mess was the reason he was heading towards his local library, one he hadn't stepped in the years. It was the only place he was comfortable visiting now. It was quiet, no people to talk to, and he'd be able to pluck out his favorite contents in peace.

Mike had been particularly fixated on Sherlock Holmes, lately. The whole idea of mysteries had made him want to learn more, even after being injured at Freddie's. Weirdly enough, after scavenging through his old contents, it unraveled more and more about what happened those dreaded nights ago.

Mike hummed quietly as he lazily pushed the glass door. The silence calmed his senses. There were a few locals, but they were buried between pages. After awkwardly exposing his card and being gently discarded to explore the aisles alone. He started trailing around the mystery section. He couldn't pick one story, so he was doing nothing but strolling.

"Do you need some help?" A voice peaked his shoulders for a flash. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, sir."

You apologized, your voice was soothed. Mike shook his head gently, "No, no. It's fine, don't worry."

A smile spreads across your lips and you read the aisle with an eager eye. "You like mystery?"

"I've just gotten into it, really." Mike slid his hands through his curls promptly. It was strange how comfortable he felt, it felt tender, weird enough. "It's a sweet genre. I like it when it keeps me guessing. Gets my mind off everything."

"Yeah. Fiction is a great outlet, that's why I became a librarian." You explained warmly, "It's something I've always dreamed of."

Mike released a breathy chuckle in response, unsure how to reply.

You extended your hand towards the neatly rowed bookshelf, trailing your finger until you slipped out a rough looking cover. Your eyes wandered to him, "You like Sherlock Holmes?"

"He's actually the reason I'm here." Mike tilted his head lightly with a calmed grin. He had no idea why he felt so comfortable around some random librarian girl he had just met, but he had no internal reason to question it. "I have a few of his stories at my house, my little sister found them."

"That's adorable," you brushed your cheek. "Maybe you'd like this one. Personally, I think it's one of his most underrated works." You handed him the book, and his eyes flickered up and down in interest.

"Wow,"

"Cool right?"

Mike nodded.

"I don't think I've seen you before here, uh," You trailed off.

"Oh. Oh, sorry, I'm Mike. Mike Schmidt," He shook your hand softly. "I actually haven't been here in a long time."

You arched a brow, face still settled, "What made you come back?"

"Well, first off, Sherlock Holmes." He shook the book lightly with a low chuckle. "And, well, work. It's been hard, so, I thought I could read a bit to calm things down."

You curled down to pile some scattered books in your hand, "Well, I hope you come back again, Mike. Maybe we can talk about some more stories, outside of here of course. I get a bit loud with stories."

You both chuckled, "I'll come back. I could always use some more mystery." Mike had been clutching the book with eager hands, along with a fluttered expression. He hadn't connected with someone in quite a while. It felt refreshing.

"Well, I have to get back to work. Goodbye, Mike." You stirred back into the halls. Mike whispered in response. "Thank you,"

He wanted to talk more, but, he didn't want to hold you back. Mike's eyes flew down to the hard-leathered surface. He chewed his lip,

I should have asked her for her name . . .

And with that thought resting heavily in his mind, Mike left the library, with a giddy attitude and a little too many mystery books in his hands.

[collecting-stories]

Hey hey hope I’m not too late with this 🫢

100 Compliments - #72 "You always look good."

Brian “Otis” Zvonecek x fem because Otis always does look so good in everything he wears 😍

You Always Look Good - Brian 'Otis' Zvonecek

Summary: Otis dresses up for a shift at Molly's in hopes of impressing you.

A/N: Sorry this took so long to write! School has been crazy!!

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

"Look at you," Stella teased, pinching Otis' side as she walked past him behind the bar at Molly's . 

Otis flinched at the feeling, shoving her hand away, as his cheeks reddened. "I look the same as I always do," he defended. Still, he straightened the button down shirt that he was wearing, navy with little pineapples printed all over it. 

Stella was unbothered by Otis' defensiveness. She stopped and looked back at him, eyes traveling up and down as she assessed him. "I don't know, something different 'bout you tonight," she replied, "you do something to your hair?"

"No," he insisted, running a hand subconsciously through his hair. 

Sensing his unusually high nerves, Stella offered him a smile, "okay. I'm not trying to give you a hard time, I promise." 

Just like she knew he would, Otis deflated, leaning against the bar and looking toward the door of Molly's before looking back at Stella. "I've been...putting feelers out...I met someone, here. She works at the hospital and she's...she's awesome. Incredible. Gorgeous. And I just wanna ya know, look good."

Before Stella could respond to his spiral of nerves, a voice cut in from the other side of the bar, "you always look good."

Otis' eyes went wide and he turned quickly to see the very person of his affection, you, standing there smiling at him. 

"Hey," you gave a small wave, leaning against your side of the bar as if that might lessen the distance the wooden countertop created between you and Otis. 

Stella backed away, smiling from ear to ear and no doubt going to find Herrmann or Mouch (or anyone that she could gossip with about you and Otis and how red he had turned when you told him that he looked good). 

"Hey," he replied, mimicking your wave but quickly lowering his hand in case you could tell how clammy his palms felt right now. If Cruz was here he would definitely give him a hard time for acting like this. Not that anyone could accuse him of being suave but he wasn't lacking in confidence either. Well, he was lacking in the kind of confidence Severide or Casey possessed but he had a decent amount. "Can I, uh, get you a beer? Or something?"

"A beer is good," you replied, taking a seat on one of the stools and watching Otis as he grabbed a bottle of Blue Moon for you, "so...I'm awesome?" 

"And incredible," he admitted, a smile creeping onto his face, "and gorgeous." 

"A triple threat," you teased, "guess we're evenly matched then?"

It took a few seconds for the words to process in Otis' head, the recognition slowly taking over as he nodded almost dumbly, full on smile breaking through and ears going as red as the rest of his face was. "Yeah?" He meant to sound less like a question but he couldn't help the way his voice raised at the end of the word, turning it into uncertainty. 

"Definitely," you replied holding up your pointer finger as you listed out the first of three things, "awesome: you watched all the Star Wars movies with me in one sitting -"

"I mean, you can't not celebrate May 4th correctly."

You held up your middle finger next, ignoring him, "Incredible: you literally save people's lives like, on the daily," finally you held up your thumb, "Gorgeous: self-explanatory. Look at you."

Otis leaned against the bar, trying to look casual and not completely flustered by your comment.  "Well, I can't argue with that."

You laughed, "oh can't you?" and leaned over the rest of the way to kiss him. 

"Hey! No PDA with the customers Otis!" Herrmann shouted from the other side of the bar. 

You pulled away trying to fight a smile as you looked down the bar to Herrmann, Mouch, and Stella, who had obviously been watching you and Otis the entire time. 

"How late are you working then?" You asked, "I mean, how many bartenders does this place need tonight?" You glanced around Molly's, slow for a random Tuesday, and then back to Otis, "not that I'm suggesting you ditch your job."

"No, of course not," he said, already turning to Herrmann, "I'm gonna head out, seems like you and Stella have it covered."

"Whoa-"

"Have fun!" Stella cut in, smiling mischievously, "be safe!"

"Oh god," the pink cheeks were back on Otis as he rounded the counter to meet you on your side. 

"Hey, she didn't pay for her beer!" Herrmann realized as he watched you and Otis make a break for the door. 

[the-kr8tor]

I don’t know if you’re still taking asks for fluffy Friday but could you do a fic of the Hobie x reader twin AU, where the reader goes into labor and has the twins and their reactions during and after the twins are born!! Your recent one of them seeing the ultrasound was so cute!! But now I kinda wanna see the chaos and the cute that follows lol!! I feel like the doctors would low key be intimidated by Hobie cause he’d taking care of reader but also be staring them down 😂 to the point they’re ask him to leave but he doesn’t of course!! Sorry for the long ask!! Your last fic was just to AMAZING 🤩 !!

Ahhh another twin au request! Thank you for sending this one ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood mention, Billie and Ramona AU, twin AU.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You were in an unimaginable pain, the kind you would never wish on anyone, your voice is hoarse from all the screaming and cussing out whoever was unfortunate enough to slightly annoy you. Too bad for Hobie, your annoyance and anger were mostly thrown at him. You had him in an iron grip, he's sure his hand would be aching for days to come. He's been a great help in alleviating the pain, patting your sweaty face dry, feeding you ice chips, whispering words of encouragement and the occasional glare at the doctor who arrived fashionably late to the party.

The epidural was your best friend that you've never thought you'd even befriend. You were sure that you wouldn't need it but after what must've been the umpteenth contraction, you were more than happy to accept its friendship.

After twenty hours of labor, all the literal blood, sweat and tears were all worth it. From the first cry of the older twin came a sudden elation, then the younger came only after five minutes apart from her sister with a loud energetic cry. You were in pain, now everything you're currently feeling is extreme happiness, and also fatigue you've never experienced before.

Following all the ‘good jobs’ from the hospital staff and numerous tearful kisses from Hobie, it's safe to say you're officially a parent to the most beautiful pair of twins. Your girls, the light of your life.

With both babies cleaned and you wiped from all the fluids, they're properly swaddled and checked by the doctor and nurses, you lay almost half asleep with your babies on your bare chest. Hands securing them atop their tiny torsos. They gurgle, making the cutest sound you've ever heard whilst Hobie takes hundreds of pictures with his digital camera. He still can't believe his eyes at the little family he now has.

“Hobie,” you say hoarsely, eyes watery from all the happy sobbing and tiredness. “I think you've got all their angles covered.”

He lifts the camera off his eye, greeting you with a genuine grin. “Alright, let me have a turn at them so you can sleep”

You scoot over, giving him space to sit right next to your hip. Hobie takes the oldest first in his arm with slight trepidation and oh so careful like he's handling the finest china.

“Hi, dad's got you” Hobie looks down at his daughter staring up at him with curious eyes, he doesn't miss the fact that she mirrors your own, almost a copy of yours. With a quick peck on top of her forehead, he moves to take the youngest and smallest from your arms. You help him by cradling the back of her head. “And I've got you too”

She answers with her lips wobbling, looking like she's about to cry her little heart out. Hobie bounces her lightly, making cooing sounds that he would always make when the twins were particularly rowdy in your belly. It works, she still frowns up at her dad but the tears don't fall.

“My brave girl, huh? Just like mum” he leans down slightly, juggling his girls whilst he lifts up the blanket to cover your bare chest. “You did amazingly, love” Hobie tells you for the tenth time just in case you forgot.

You hum in reply, heart tender at the sight in front of you. Hands cupping both his elbows, your way of helping him carry the bundles of joy.

“Did you at least make me look good in the photos?” You gesture to the digital camera on the side table. “I must look horrible in all of them after all that”

Hobie shakes his head, “you're as beautiful as the day I met you, and it's impossible for you to look horrible in pictures”

“Even after almost pooping while I was pushing them out?”

“Especially then” you laugh softly, winching at the soreness.

“You alright?” Hobie scooches closer to you, sharing his warmth, taking a quick glimpse at his girls already sleeping. He's not jealous at all.

“I'm okay, promise” you drop your hands from his elbows down to his thighs, too tired to lift them for a second more. “How are they?”

“Sleeping, you should be too” he observes you closely, your eyebrows slightly knitted, hands limp over his thighs.

“We haven't even decided names for them yet” you whisper.

“We've got plenty of time for that. Sleep, they'll be here when you wake up, yeah?”

“I don't think I want to, I just wanna stare at them forever” you fight an oncoming yawn.

“Sleep or I'll name them B one and B two” he jokes.

“You wouldn't” you do your best glare despite the sleep slowly enveloping you.

“You wanna bet? On second thought Bert and Ernie sounds better”

You surrender, “alright, alright, I'll sleep” your eyes threaten to close. “I really like the first one you suggested, it's Ramona, right?”

“Love” he says sternly with hints of fondness.

You giggle, “okay, love you. All three of you” giving them one last look over, you finally succumb to sleep.

“We love you too”

[godspeedviper]

Saturday Night Fever - Jack Delroy x F!Reader (SFW)

𖤐 Requested by Anon: Politely requesting some Jack Delroy x OC hurt/comfort. MAN AM I A SUCKER FOR some good old fashioned caretaking – a bad day, a cold, something has our intrepid host down but trying to push through and the OC makes it their task to cheer him up.

𖤐 Synopsis: Jack Delroy wakes up the day after his fated Halloween Special in 1977. Pure fluff.

𖤐 Type: Fluff || Comfort || Caretaking || Sickfic || Fix It fic || Post Canon

𖤐 Word Count: 1848

𖤐 Rating: Gen || SFW || Mentions of Medication

𖤐 A/N: Sorry this took so long! I had a real bad month (chronic illness) and as a result i've been listening to a lot of ASMR whilst bedridden and writing this kinda helped me through the weeks as well. ALSO the inspo for the "plot" came from this commercial and a comment on that video that said they, and i quote, "hated the dissonant piano at the end". It got me thinking of how surreal it would be to wake up to that while sick. Additionally, the described furniture in this fic looks like this. Final note, the NBC nightly news anchors at the time (1977) were John Chancellor and David Brinkley. ANYWAY i just want to see Jack happy and taken care of :(

  Jack stirred in his bed at the sound of strange dissonant piano keys in the distance. His eyes fluttered open, catching a blurry glimpse of the tail end of a commercial. He had a violent headache and his whole body ached. He tried to speak but his throat felt scratchy and sore. 

“Hey there handsome!” said a voice “Shh… There there now, try and take it easy.” 

“Minnie?” Jack croaked out. 

“If you’d like me to be, sure.” Replied the voice with a smile. 

  She reached out to the coffee table in front of them and picked up a small hand towel. She dipped it into an adjacent bowl filled with water and then used the damp cloth to gently pat Jack’s clammy forehead. He let out a relieved sigh in return as the cloth felt cool against his feverish skin and soothed his headache. Each muscle in his body slowly relaxed, sinking back into a curved chartreuse sofa.

“Oh you poor thing you’ve had a real long night haven’t you.” 

“What happened?” Jack mumbled. 

“You caught an autumn cold and went on to do your Halloween special, but the heat from those TV lights in the studio made you start running a real high fever.” She said, unfolding the damp towel and placing it flat across Jack’s forehead. “The fever was so high it started messing with your head on set and you began to talk nonsense about the devil and all live on your show!” 

Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, everything had seemed so vivid and felt so real that it seemed unlikely to have all been a hallucination. 

“Then… How did I end up here?” He spoke cautiously, both from the ache in his throat and out of fear. “And where is ‘ here’ exactly?” 

“You’re at the big boss’ penthouse atop the UBC building. He has this place for when he stays working late, comes up here to catch a few zzz’s then goes right back to meetings and the like. Figured it would be easier to keep you from the prying eyes of tabloids here than in a hospital.” She said in a very matter of fact voice, as if Jack should have deduced it all. 

  Jack tried to make the effort to sit up and look around, but his body felt far too weakened and pained to complete the task. He only managed to raise his head and lift his shoulders a few centimeters off the sofa before collapsing back onto the cushy furniture. 

“Oh you poor thing,” Jack heard her say as he shut his eyes and groaned in pain. 

“Wait…” He mumbled. “If… if the fever was that bad? Why am I not with a doctor or in the emergency room or an ambulance?” 

“That’s what I’m here for silly!” She laughed, shrill and dainty like the ringing of a small bell. “I’m a home caregiver hired by the big boss. You can call me Nurse Minnie if you’d like, since that’s what you blurted out earlier. It’s my job to make sure you’re right as rain in no time.” 

“Uh-huh…” Jack nodded slowly. He was still in disbelief, but he had no other explanation for how he was feeling or for what he remembers experiencing. 

Regardless, his fever and headache were very very real and so, he tried relaxing his tense muscles, slowly shifting into as comfortable a position as possible. 

“Would you like some tea now that you’re awake?” She asked, daintily batting her lashes at him. 

“Um, yes please.” It sounded almost like a question coming from Jack, but she didn’t seem to mind. 

“Alright then, wait right here Mr. Delroy and I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

 Jack’s large, dark eyes followed her as she stood up from the sofa and took her leave. He then turned his attention to the coffee table on his right side and looked over all the items laid on top; a thermometer, some small hand towels, some medication, the television remote, and the aforementioned bowl of water. He reached out for the remote – the buttons were rubber but the body was made of sleek wood that felt cool to the touch – turning up the volume and flipping through the channels until he saw a picture of himself on the nightly news with a headline ‘Is Television Going to Hell?’

“After last night’s heartstopping broadcast, Night Owls with Jack Delroy has skyrocketed to the top of the Nielsen charts as viewers everywhere proclaim this to be the most frightening thing put to screen since The Exorcist hit theaters back in ‘73.” Said a man in a sandy colored suit jacket with a matching color tie. 

“That’s right, David.” Replied the man sitting to his left. “A spokesman for UBC kindly let us know that the entire night was scripted and to rest assured that no one was harmed in the making of the program.” 

“Now hold on a minute, John. That isn’t entirely true!” The man in the sand colored suit interrupted. 

“Correct,” His co-host replied with a swift synchronicity rarely seen outside of tennis matches. “That same UBC representative also made it clear that while the entire broadcast was scripted the titular host, Jack Delroy, was running a high fever that night, resulting in his erratic behavior towards the end of the program. However, he has since been hospitalized and is on the mend.” 

  Jack sat there with his mouth agape, trying to wrap his mind around what the newscasters were saying. His thoughts were quickly interrupted as his caretaker returned to the living room, placing a tea cup and accompanying saucer on the table right in front of him. 

“Here you are,” She said, sitting on the edge of the sofa near his hips and helping him slowly sit up. “Please be careful, it’s hot.” 

“Oh, oh thank you.” He replied, slowly reaching for the teacup. 

“I see you’re catching yourself up to speed.” She said, nodding towards the television set. “How does it feel to be at the top?” 

“Hot.” He said with a chuckle. 

“Was it worth it?” 

Jack froze, unsure of what to say. His eyes flitted down towards the teacup, then back up at her, but she was giggling along with his statement. Jack nervously smiled, fully doubting his senses. 

“Oh Mr.Delroy, even when you’re not on camera you still have a sense of humor.” 

“Sorry,” He said sheepishly as his cheeks started to blush. “I can’t help it… And please, call me Jack.” 

  She smiled back at him in earnest, mindlessly reaching for the discarded hand towel which had rolled off his forehead and onto his lap. “Don’t be sorry about that, Jack.” She gave him a poignant look. “Most people let fame get to their head. They become rude, ungrateful, and just plain old unpleasant. I will happily take your bashful apologies and polite sense of humor over all that any day.” 

“Thank you.” He said, blush spreading to the whole of his face. 

  Jack finished his tea in silence as she lay back and watched the remainder of the news broadcast with him. The anchors had moved past Jack’s news story and onto the Son of Sam, whose court date had just been set for May of the following year. Once he finished his drink, Jack tried to stand up and take away the used porcelain, but he was quickly stopped by his nurse. 

“Please, let me take care of you Jack. It’s what I’m here for.” She held the teacup in one hand and used the other to gently press against his chest, lowering him back onto the sofa. “Trust me, you are not a burden, this is no bother.” 

“A-alright.” Jack reluctantly lay back and let go of his worries. 

  She set the teacup back on the table for a moment to reach for the blanket draped over Jack’s legs and pull it up towards his neck, tucking him in. Once he was comfortable she grabbed the thermometer off the table and brought it to his lips. Jack complied without words, allowing her to place the item into his mouth and under his tongue, holding it there as she lifted the teacup and left the room. She swiftly returned, taking the instrument from his lips to read the temperature, reacting only with a soft disappointed sigh. 

“That bad, huh?” Jack tried to laugh but choked out a cough instead. 

“Shh shh let your throat rest so the tea can do its work.” She cooed, reaching out for another hand towel. “You’re doing much better but your temperature is still within feverish range. I’m going to apply another damp towel to your head and then let you rest. Unless you need anything else?” 

“An aspirin perhaps?” Jack whispered. 

“Oh, does your head hurt? I’m sorry, I should have thought to offer you some sooner so you could have taken it along with your tea. I’ll go get you a glass of water for that and then I’ll massage your head to make up for it.” 

  She stood up and quickly left the room before Jack could try and protest the unnecessary apology. Instead, he slowly propped himself back up into a sitting position, ready to receive her offerings of care. Upon her return she smiled at the sight of him, waiting and ready like a good little boy. She picked out a pill from a small bottle and handed it to Jack. Much like with the thermometer, Jack submitted to her care and took it without protest, like a good boy indeed. He lay back down and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head, while she picked up the remote and turned off the TV. She stood back up and Jack could hear her walking around the room. He then heard the sound of her rustling through a shelf of records, followed by the unmistakable scratch of the needle over the vinyl disc. David Bowie’s Space Oddity began playing softly in the background, and she returned to once more sit on the edge of the sofa alongside Jack. 

“I’m going to place another damp towel on your forehead to help break your fever, alright?” She whispered. 

  Jack nodded and settled into the sofa. Her gentle whispers made his ears tingle, as did the slightly spongy sound of her dabbing the damp towel along his face before laying it across his forehead. She then put her fingertips onto the edge of his scalp, right where it met the skin, and began rubbing them in as a gentle massage. Jack sighed in relief, causing her to giggle under her breath. The droning melody of the music in combination with the head massage and medication was causing Jack to feel as if he were melting directly into the furniture. He began to moan as the overwhelming relief began to feel almost erotic in nature. As Jack was slipping back into oblivion, he swore he could hear her whispering ‘good boy’ every now and again, until he succumbed to sleep. 

Ao3 || Request || Ko-Fi || WiPs

[kookslastbutton]

How’s our TLTD couple doing? Any updates on the pregnancy?

Omg so sorry for this late reply!! 🥺❤ our TLTD couple are doing well! Still trying for that baby!

Why don't we check in with them—

Jungkook: "Honestly, trying to get pregnant is harder than writing my 300 page economics dissertation for my PhD! Much more fun of course, but we're seriously at it almost every night and my sweet wife is still not positive! Maybe there's something faulty with the tests she's using.

Y/N: "It's not the test Kook. Remember, we went to the hospital and Seokjin told us that it could be because—"

Jungkook: "No, dont say it! Seokjin's likely wrong, there's nothing wrong with my....abilities.

Y/N: "Seokjin is a doctor baby. He has two PhD's in medicine. I think we should really consider what he's saying."

Jungkook: "...fine, but he never said he was 100% sure that was the problem. I say we'll just have to be patient and try harder!"

Y/N: "I don't know much harder we can go Kook. We've been doing everything we can think of. If you dont get me pregnant by next month, I want us to start looking into other options okay?"

Jungkook: "...I guess that's fair. When are you getting home by the way? I've missed you. That art convention has you gone for a week!"

Y/N: "It's only been four days you big baby! I'll be home tomorrow night. My flight gets in at 6:40."

Jungkook: "Okay, I'll be there to pick you up. Just tell me the gate number. It fricken sucks being in an empty house and sleeping in an empty bed. I wanna hold you in my arms so bad."

Y/N: "I know, I miss you too. When I get home how about we....mm, maybe I should tell you in private, actually."

[thexsanctuaryx]

ʚ♡ɞ I'll Follow You Into the Dark ʚ♡ɞ

{ CHAPTER ONE }

➳ NEXT CHAPTER

Summary: Marc and Emma arrive in the same wing of the same mental hospital at the same time. Pairing: { eventual } Original Character { Emma Harper } x Marc Spector, Emma Harper x Steven Grant, and Emma Harper x Jake Lockley Contents: mental hospitals, psychiatric hold, first meeting, angst { I guess? I don't know what else to call it. } Warnings: severe mental illness { psychosis, hallucinations, depression }, main character is actively in psychosis, I've done my best to write it in the least triggering way but there are a lot of heavy themes that will take place in this series, so forewarning. Marc is a danger to himself here but it's only really alluded to in this part. mental hospitals. triggering themes related to the aforementioned. Author's Note: I recently finished reading Tear Down My Reason by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction and it inspired me to work on an idea I've been playing with about Emma and the Boys meeting while both in a mental hospital at the same time. I wanted to write a series that would help other people with severe mental illness feel seen and heard as there really AREN'T works out there like this. This series is being written with a lot of love and care so I truly hope that it can be cathartic for those who read who might also live with mental illness because you DO matter and your story DOES deserve to be told. Word Count: 969 Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

They’d been admitted the same night, after lights out, two frozen bodies sitting in the darkened day room waiting to be assigned a bed.

It was unusual for two people to land in the same wing at the same time, let alone this late at night but that’s just how it happened.

She sits quietly, fully believing she’s in some kind of limbo between this life and the next – that somehow this was just how her brain was processing her passing, waiting to be judged.

She wonders if the man, slumped in the chair half a dozen feet from her is also recently deceased. Or so she believes.

He seems sullen and she wonders if perhaps he’d taken his own life to end up here in this seeming waystation.

Despite his deep scowl, she finds him beautiful. And then she thinks to herself, maybe he’s an angel and it’s some kind of test to see how she’ll interact with him.

As his eyes rise to hers, his frown etches further into his features. “You're staring…” He mutters, rolling his shoulders tensely.

“Sorry—” Emma apologizes, tearing her eyes away. “I was just—wondering if you were okay…” She mumbles softly.

“Would I be here if I were okay?” He replies.

Emma confuses his meaning, again thinking maybe this in the afterlife. And again, she thinks he must’ve taken his life.

‘Marc—come on, she seems sweet…’ A voice in his mind says, whose worried expression reflects from the window to the hallway.

“How can you possibly tell that, Steven?” He mutters again.

When he speaks to someone that doesn’t appear to be in the room, she starts to turn the options over in her mind.

Maybe he’s hearing voices like she started to this morning before…before it happened…

Or maybe she just can’t see the person he’s speaking to because that person is on a spiritual plane she can’t comprehend yet.

Still, she’s sure it’s all a test.

“Who is Steven?” she asks gently, trying to help.

Marc’s eyes flash to hers again, that seem to look on him with such an innocence that even he can’t see her question as malicious.

“Is he here too?” She asks, looking confused but somehow so compassionate.

This in turn confuses him.

‘I don’t think she’s here for the same reason we are, mate…” Steven says within their headspace, looking at the girl with such soft regard.

There’s a small pout at Marc’s lips as he studies her. She radiates a kind of sensitive and soothing energy that belongs far away from a place like this.

He can’t help but soften along with Steven.

Another presence moves into focus in their shared space. He takes one look at the girl and feels his own protective nature kick in.

‘Who’s this?’

Marc doesn’t realize how long the silence has lingered between them until Jake speaks.

All the while, she continues looking softly at him, occasionally shying away her eyes.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me…” Emma breaks the silence.

Marc shakes his head slowly, somehow finding himself more worried about her than he is about himself at this point.

“What’s your name?” He asks, tempering his voice.

She swallows, tucking some hair behind her ear. “E-Emma…” She rolls her lips in, causing dimples to dip lightly into her cheeks as her eyes glance away shyly again.

Jake watches stunned from the reflection beside Steven.

He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he only softens more. “I’m Marc…” he introduces himself.

Emma eyes rise to his again, nodding slowly.

Her mind is already moving on, asking quietly, “do you know how long we’ll be here?”

Marc mistakes her meaning, just assuming it must be her first time on a psychiatric hold.

“72 hours—they have to—”

Emma’s already talking over him, more to herself but audible enough for the three of them to hear. “Three days? Like Easter?” She wonders aloud.

Marc’s eyebrows pull together, his mouth hanging open a little. “huh?”

“Easter—” Emma repeats. “Jesus came back to life after three days…”

‘Oh I—Marc I don’t think she knows what’s happening at all…’ Steven tells him.

Marc blinks slowly, but continues to soften, “do you know where you are right now, Emma?”

She shakes her head quickly and her shoulders pulling up to her ears, “I think it’s—well it’s kinda like limbo, right?” She pauses, furrowing her own brow. “We’re waiting to be judged…” She does her best to explain.

An ache goes through his chest, somehow his situation seems to pale in comparison with hers.

“No, Emma—” He starts, but is abruptly cut off when the floor staff comes to collect her first.

Fear seems to come over her face and it’s all he can do to stay in his chair, knowing that causing a scene would end badly for one or both of them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow—okay?” Is all he can get out.

“Tomorrow?” Emma questions in a daze.

“Come on, Emma—let’s get you settled…” The woman ushers her out of the door. “Someone will be back for you in a minute, Marc.”

This does nothing to ‘settle’ Marc at all, in fact, even after they get him situated in a room he still can’t stop worrying.

And so there he lies, in the dark on his side in a twin sized bed that feels a little too small, wrapped in thin hospital blankets, unable to get his mind off of the beautiful girl somewhere in a room along the same hallway.

The same beautiful girl who likewise lies in the dark, wondering over an angel named Marc and what will come of her.

Of one thing was certain for both of them, sleep wouldn’t come so easily tonight.

[alexshenry]

Hello, sorry if you answered before but can you recommend some of your fav rwrb fics?

Hi, anon! Sorry for this very late reply, I saved your ask to my drafts and then wasn't able to find it 🤦‍♀️I answered with some of my favourites here already, and I have a tag with fic recs, aswell. I also recommend following @rwrbficrecs. I'll soon be making a rec list, so I'll have a more comprehensive list then.♥

The two loves of my life I will never stop recommending:

God Save the Blessed American Mom by zipadeea - On December 4, 2021, an attempt is made on President Ellen Claremont's life. Alex gets shot instead.

This broke me, healed me, and made me fall in love with every character all over again. Everyone's emotions towards the events are so nuanced and realistic, and the writing is soooo stunning. Just make sure to have tissues ready.

but i can count on you to tell me the truth when (i've) been drinking and you're wearing a mask by anincompletelist (soldouthaz) / @anincompletelist - The room goes quiet again, Alex too focused on the sound of his own breathing. He’s already started, he figures, and the person still hasn’t left. But this next bit is a little more personal, and Alex isn’t positive what the parameters are for one-sidedly conversing with a masked stranger about your best kept secrets at a halloween party when you’re so drunk that the floor is beginning to look like it may open up and swallow you whole. Isn’t sure if that might be better anyway.

You know when you read something so beautiful you feel tiny butterflies in your stomach? This is what this fic did to me. Very gorgeously written, especially Alex's inner thoughts. I will never be able to look at my ceiling the same way again, thank you Sarah ♥

Other fics I read recently and wholly recommend:

The Arrangement by cmere - Shaan approaches Henry with a deal from the Queen: agree to an arranged marriage with a woman to flaunt in public, and he can enjoy the services of a male escort in private. Alex doesn’t actually care about him; it’s just a job. Right?

You Can't Deny Me Anything by Dawg1515 - That night at the Lake House, Henry is getting ready to leave when Alex wakes up feeling sick. Faced with memories of losing his father, Henry decides to stay and take care of Alex. They have some things to talk out.

Falling Down the Stairs of Your Smile by chamel / @cha-melodius - The movie is over and it’s getting late, but all Alex can think of is that he really doesn’t want the night to end yet. Which is crazy. Twenty-four hours ago Alex was actively cursing this man’s name, and now he seemingly can’t get enough of spending time with him. It doesn’t make any sense, but somehow it does; it’s the same feeling that he was chasing all those years ago in Rio, the one that pushed him to go up and introduce himself at exactly the wrong time, the one that made the hurt of that encounter linger for so long in his psyche. (A canon-divergent fic in which Alex spends another night at Kensington after the hospital visit and learns some very surprising things about Henry (and himself)

come pick me up by smc_27 - Alex is an Uber driver. Henry needs a ride to the airport.

[eds6ngel]

okay I might send a few ideas for I kissed the teacher spin-offs bc I feel like I have a lot haha, but you don’t have to do any of them! so first idea: what if steve gets hurt accidentally and has to go to the hospital, so reader has to pick up alena, and they give her a hard time at pickup and then when they get to the hospital, they won’t let her in bc she’s not related or his wife. then after this happens, steve starts to think a lot more seriously about asking reader to marry him (but he’s definitely been thinking about it before) but just some good old angst and fluff pls! love your writing so much!

of course i'm doing this one!! i've loved your requests so far :)) and thank you so much for the compliment angel ♡

warnings: dad!steve. mom!reader. fem!reader. 90s!au. food mentions. steve breaks his ankle. judgement over having kids outside marriage. judgement over alena calling reader 'mom.' mentions of hospitals. pet names. kissing. mentions of marriage. fluff. comfort. teensy bit of angst. also, alena becomes protective over her mom!! [3.2k].

full 'when i kissed the teacher' masterlist.

You were currently enjoying your lunch break, catching up with the other staff as you chowed down into your poorly-made sandwich that you threw together at 7am that morning.

“I’m telling you Amelie, that kid makes me ache—” However, your conversation is interrupted by one of the front desk staff lightly tapping at the door, poking her head from around the corner.

“Sorry to disturb you guys, but Y/N, your boyfriend is on the phone asking for you.”

You gently place your sandwich down in its tin-foil wrapper, putting your hand over your mouth as you quickly chew the rest of the remaining food. “Of course lovely, give me two seconds. Amelie, just watch that for me a second?” you ask, pointing to the half-eaten chicken salad sandwich on the table, with a small nod from her.

“Great, thank you,” you say, following the front desk lady to her office, the phone currently on hold as she ventured down the hallways of Ernie Pyle to find you. She presses a button, turning off hold and passing the phone over to you. You press the speaker to your ear, calling out, “Steve?”

“Hey, honey. Yeah, you finish at three, right?”

“Yeah, same time everyday. Why, is everything okay?” you ask.

“Um… not really. Look don’t be mad at me…” Not a great start to a sentence. “But, I kind of broke my ankle, and I’m currently sat in a hospital bed at Hawkins General.”

You gasp, “Oh my God babe, how did you manage that?”

“Well, I was stocking some shelves, and I had to use a ladder. Some woman wasn’t looking where she was going and collided with the ladder. I lost my balance and fell onto the tiles. Fucking hurt like hell.”

“Jesus,” you hiss, imagining the scenario and somehow sensing the pain in your own body, almost as if a form of empathy. “How are you feeling, baby? Is it still painful now?”

“It’s better, but still hurts. It’s sort of more of a throbbing pain now. But, babe… I do have a request.”

“Of course honey, anything you need,” you reply, the worry starting to settle as a pit in your stomach.

“Could you pick up Alena for me? Robin’s at work later today, so she can’t collect her.”

“Yeah, sure! I’ll get Leanna to keep tabs on parental pick-up. I may be a little late, but I should get there before 3:30.”

“Thank you babe. Thanks so much.”

“Of course, baby,” you smile to yourself, “You want Alena and I to come visit you after I collect her? I’m sure she’ll want to see you as much as I do.”

“I would love that. I think opening hours are until six, so you guys should have time.”

“Mhmm,” you hum down the line, “Got it. Right babe, I would love to talk to you for longer, but I have to free up the line for other people.” You giggle, “So, I’ll see you later on? I would say around 3:45-ish?”

“3:45. Great. See you later, honey. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you softly say, “Hope you feel better soon.”

You drop the receiver, the front desk lady (also known as Sarah) looking at you with a raised eyebrow, intrigued into what was so important that your boyfriend had to disturb you during work hours.

You shake your head, rubbing your hands over your face and sighing, “Idiot broke his ankle. Needs me to pick his daughter up from school.”

She chuckles along with you, arms crossed over her chest, “Men, huh?”

“Yeah, men,” you shake your head once more, before heading back down the longing halls to the staff room, thanking Leanna as you collapse on the chair, chomping into your sandwich.

“So… what did Mr. Lovebird so desperately want?” she asks with a wiggle of her eyebrows, a smirk plastered across her face.

You let out a deep breath. You were going to be telling this story all day.

You arrived at Hawkins Elementary at 3:25, pressing the button on your car keys and entering the gates to the third grade classroom.

Many students were being sent out to their parents, you patiently waiting your turn, Alena smiling and waving to you from her seat inside, to which you reply with a wiggle of your fingers.

However, after a short while, all of the parents had seemed to have collected their children, both you and Alena sharing a confused glance through the clear glass window as she remained in her seat. You were standing right there, why wouldn’t her teacher send her out?

You could see her having a conversation with her teacher, the woman rolling her eyes as she opens the door, sharply asking you, “What do you want?”

You kept your cool, no matter how hard you felt like snapping back at her, “Hi, I’m here to pick up Alena.”

“You’re not on the list,” she simply states.

“Um… actually, I recently got added as an emergency contact for Alena, so I assumed it was okay for me to collect her.”

“I don’t care. I was not informed.”

You scorn, knowing that you were legally allowed to collect Alena. This specific teacher worked here when you did, the obvious tone being a pre-judged stereotype of your reputation.

“Why can’t I go with mom?” Alena asks sweetly, an undertone of sadness laced in her voice as her teacher blocks her from you.

You can see her roll her eyes as she turns back to Alena sneering, “She’s not your mom. She’s not even your step-mom. She’s merely a woman in your life.”

That made you snap. There was no way you would let her talk to your daughter like that. “How dare you! She can decide whether she calls me mom or not. You have no idea of our personal life and have no right to dictate that for her. Now, if you won’t let me collect my daughter, her dad is at Hawkins General because he’s broken his ankle. So, how about you call there and ask for permission from him.”

She shakes her head, scoffing, “Fine. Mr. Landbury, keep an eye on Alena for a minute, I’m going to call her father.”

The teaching assistant present was not a face you seemed to recognise, no sense of familiarity flooding your body. And by the lack of shrewdness, he too was confused by the situation at hand.

As the teacher powers out of the room, presumingly heading to the front desk, he tilts his head to the side, pointing to you, “Why can’t you collect her?”

You sigh, “You weren’t here when I worked here, were you?”

“No, I started this year.”

You lean your arm against the doorframe, “Basically, I had a thing for Alena’s dad whilst he was here, and I got fired because of it. So, now nobody here likes me.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, “But, she called you mom. Seems like it’s going perfectly well.”

You smile, “Yeah, two years this July.”

“Well, congratulations,” he replies, you quickly thanking him as her teacher returns, a sense of displeasure displayed on her features. “He said it’s fine. She can go with you.”

“Yes!” Alena cheers, jumping up from her seat and running over to you, hugging tightly onto your shirt. You could practically feel the teacher‘s resentment towards you in your own veins. Yet, you plastered a sarcastic smile on your face, burying your feelings of irritation, “Thank you.”

She simply grunts in return, waving her hand down as she turns away from the two of you. You wrap Alena’s smaller hand in yours, her skipping back to your car. As she climbs into the car seat you had placed in the front before you began your journey, you close your driver’s side door.

“What did you say happened to daddy?” she asks you.

You turn on the ignition, pulling out of the school parking lot and onto the main road, “He broke his ankle sweetpea. He was climbing a ladder at work and fell down.”

“Ow,” she hisses, almost sensing his pain, just like you had a few hours prior, “Can we go and see him at the hospital?”

“We are on the same train of thought baby, as that’s where I was about to head.”

“Yay!” she cheers, arms held up high above her head in celebration, “Will he have a cast?”

“I think he will bubs.”

She gasps, “Does that mean I get to draw on it? Because Tommy had a cast the other week as he broke his arm, and I got to draw pretty flowers on it. He wasn’t very happy about it though.”

“Well, that’s not very good, is it?” you reply, “I’m sure daddy will let you draw as many pretty flowers on it as you want.”

“I hope so too! As Tommy was really annoyed by it…”

And for the rest of your car trip to Hawkins General, Alena re-counted her entire story of drawing on her friend Tommy’s cast. She was at the perfect age where her mouth would start running and never stop. Not that you minded of course, it was very endearing. But, she sure could make a boring topic into a four-hour-long detailed presentation.

Hand in hand, you and Alena stroll to the front desk of the hospital, politely asking, “Hi. I’m looking for Steve Harrington. He came in here today with a broken ankle.”

“Name?”

“Y/N L/N, little nugget here is Alena Harrington.”

“So, you aren’t his wife?” she asks in a monotone voice, chewing loudly on her gum.

“Um… No, I’m not. But, I’m his girlfriend.”

The woman sighs, taking her glasses off the bridge of her nose and leaning back in her chair, “You can’t go in unless you are a relation. The kid can go in, someone can take her, but you can’t.”

You blink rapidly, “But, I just told you, I’m his girlfriend. Sure, we’re not married yet, but that’s my love you’re talking about.”

“I can’t let you in,” she states again, staring you in the eyes, “The kid goes and you stay, or you both stay. End of discussion.”

“No,” you put your foot down, “Not end of discussion. I shouldn’t have to be bound in by the law to see the love of my life. He’s hurt, he’s injured. I want to see how he is doing and whether he is okay.”

“Miss, if you continue raising your voice at me, I will get my colleagues to escort you out, do you understand?”

You sigh, realising there’s no way to get through to this woman. You would normally say she’s just following the required rules for her job, but from her attitude, it seems as if she was agreeing with the nonsensical attitude that love is only proved by two rings and a piece of paper.

However, the sound of a small foot hitting the floor and a huff shocks you to your core, “Let mommy see daddy!”

“Kid,” the woman leans over the desk, “Your mom, or mother-like figure I would call her, can’t go with you as her and your dad aren’t married. I can happily ask someone to take you up to see him, but she can’t go with you.”

You let your eyes naturally roll to the back of your head. People in Indiana were so judgemental. If Alena wants to call you mom, they should accept that. It’s your life, and you should be able to live by your rules, not bound by the critics of the outside world of strangers.

“Let her go!” Alena screams, the woman standing up and replying, “Right, I’m escorting you two out. You are causing too much noise for our patients around here.”

Growling out in frustration, refraining yourself from pulling your own hair out, you lift Alena up into your arms, “Come on baby, let’s go and sit in the car.”

You may have not been allowed in the building, but the parking lot was still an option. And you would stay there until six o’clock if it meant you got the chance to see Steve.

Steve’s sitting uncomfortably in his hospital bed, the bedsheets scratching at his back, his neck a little too low down for his liking, and the cast wrapped around his foot and lower leg itching away at his skin. He keeps checking the watch on his right wrist, practically counting down the minutes until you arrived. However, once the clock strikes 4:30, he starts to become worried, wondering where the two of you had gone. There was only an hour and a half left of visiting time, he was positive you wouldn’t deliberately miss it.

A nurse wanders past his bed, him squeaking out an “Excuse me,” alerting her from where she was scribbling away at her clipboard. “My girlfriend and daughter were meant to come to visit me around half an hour ago. Is there any chance I could use the phone to see where they are?”

“Oh, Mr. Harrington,” she rolls her eyes, knowing exactly which members of the public he was referring to, “Your girlfriend and daughter had to be escorted out of our building forty-five minutes ago for verbally harassing our front desk staff.”

“I’m sorry, what? Why?” He knew that wasn’t like you. Sure, you had more progressive opinions than most in the conservative town of Hawkins, but you’d never dare verbally harass someone.

“She was arguing in quite a rude manner about how she deserves to come up here purely for the fact she loves you, despite our rules clearly stating we only allow visitors on a relation-only policy. Also, on top of that, your daughter further escalated the situation by yelling at our front desk staff. We will not tolerate that kind of abuse in our building, Mr. Harrington.”

“Well, it is a bullshit policy,” he mumbles to himself, taking a sip of his well-brewed coffee a kind lady brought to him around ten minutes ago, a lot nicer than the current nurse he was dealing with. However, the nurse heard his remark, not that he was entirely bothered by it.

“Excuse me! What did you just say, Mr. Harrington?”

“I said: it’s a bullshit policy,” he firmly states, “She’s my girlfriend, I love her. I shouldn’t have to marry her for you to let her see me. Some people’s spouses in here probably don’t even love their husband or wife, at least my girlfriend actually cares enough to come and see me. I know for a fact Mrs. Black over there has a husband and he hasn’t been here all day.” He takes a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he relishes in everything he just blurted out. Maybe he was a little too harsh, and it seemed like the nurse completely agreed, a lot more so than him.

She sharply replies, “Mr. Harrington, you should be grateful we are even letting you recover here. I will not have you verbally attacking other patients for your own personal superiority. It’s not my fault you had a child out of wedlock.”

That was the final straw for him. He would not stand a stranger insulting his daughter. Not in a million years. He immediately lifts himself up off of the bed, grabbing the crutches that had been balanced by the side, and beginning to trudge out of his secluded space. “Mr. Harrington, you sit back down!”

He turns back, looking the nurse dead in the eyes, “If you’re going to insult my family like that, I don’t want your help at this hospital.”

And with that, he was hobbling his way to the elevator, pushing the button to take him to the first floor.

As Steve exited the building, followed by the constant yells of hospital staff, he turned to the left, about to head over to the nearest phone booth when the sound of the word, “Daddy!” caught his attention. He looks over into the distance, Alena hanging out of the passenger side window and waving to him. He can see you pull her back down into her seat, the car suddenly moving towards him. His girls were still waiting for him.

You quickly unbuckled your seatbelt, jumping out of the car and aiding to your boyfriend, “Oh my God, what are you doing out here? I thought you were supposed to stay overnight?”

Steve hisses as he lifts himself into the backseat, you grabbing his crutches so you can place them by Alena’s feet in the front. “Well, a lovely nurse decided to input her take on Alena apparently being born out of wedlock and also accused you two of verbally harassing people. I know what you are like, and you would never do that in a million years. So, I left.”

You laugh to yourself, shocked to the way that the staff exaggerated your actions, “They refused to let me up there because I wasn’t your wife. What bullsh— trash! What trash! I shouldn’t need that to care for you, our love should be enough.”

“Thank you!” he exclaims, “That’s what I said to the nurse!”

You pass the crutches forward to Alena, the metal rods looking massive compared to her small body, “Baby, can you just put them on the floor underneath you, please?”

“Yes, mommy,” she replies sweetly, dropping them down below her. “Mom, they don’t fit properly.”

You look over, the crutches too long to fit in the small gap between the door and the center console, “Just leave them balanced like that honey, it’ll be okay.”

“Okay!”

After Steve reaches over to protect himself with the seatbelt, you cup his face, changing your tone to a more serious nature, “How are you doing, my love?”

He sighs, “My back hurts, but they said there’s no injuries there, just strain. The cast is extremely itchy, I’m not gonna lie, but it’s okay.” He puts his left hand over your right, stroking the back of it, “I’m okay. I promise.”

You smile, whispering out, “Okay,” before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. You part from him, placing one more tender kiss to his forehead before shutting the back door, climbing into the driver’s seat.

Before turning on the ignition, you reach back, grabbing his hand and softly saying, “I love you.”

Alena then copies you, whipping her head back and cheesing, “Love you, daddy!”

He smiles, trying not to let tears slip from his eyes, grabbing hold of Alena’s hand and bringing yours and hers together, placing a soft kiss directly in the middle of both, “I love you too, my beautiful girls.”

And it was in that moment, he was sure. The thought had been lingering at the back of his mind for a while. You had moved in with them a couple months ago, fitting into their daily routine. Being there to have breakfast with them in the mornings, being there to cook dinner together, being there to wish Alena goodnight and fall asleep in his arms. It all felt so… natural. As if you belonged as a permanent addition to their household, to their lives.

It wasn’t a question of thought anymore. It was a need. He needed to buy a ring. He needed to plan a proposal. Because he no longer wanted you as his girlfriend anymore, he wanted you as his wife.

i hope you enjoyed!! thank you so much for the requests! you've been an absolute darling. i'm not sure what to write about for your older!alena request, so i may not be able to write something for that. but, if you have other ideas, keeping sending them in! (and that goes for all you beautiful humans! send in your lovely requests!!) ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @cats00089 @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 @frostandflamesfanfic

[saturn7162]

Slowly slides this on a plate in front of my 6, half dead, starving followers

The new farmer in Stardew Valley held his ax over his shoulder, trudging through the muddy Cindersap Forest for wood to give to Robin to upgrade his barn. The showering rain had soaked through his fur, causing it to stick to his skin. The farmer curled his lips back in a snarl, hating the feeling of his fur plastered to his flesh. Despite the heavy rain coming down in sheets and slightly clouding his vision, he could just make out a glimpse of a person laying over by the cliffs. He trotted over quickly, ducking his head to avoid being scratched by the branches of the pine trees. He approached quickly and a disappointed sigh left his lips once he saw who the figure was. He knew this person quite well.

“Shane…” His brows furrowed as he knelt down in front of the fallen man laying in the middle of multiple empty beer cans. Shane groaned, opening his eyes ever so slightly to look at who had stopped beside him.

“Stern….” Croaked the drunken man.

“I…. I'm sorry..” He hiccuped, slowly beginning to cry.

“M.. My life… It's a pathetic joke…” Stern's brows curved up, his face adopting one of pity.

“Look at me…” Shane spat, lifting up a shaky hand to gesture to himself.

“Why do I even try?” His voice trembled, his lip quivered, and tears rolled down his face.

“I'm too small and stupid t-to take control of my life…” He took in a shaky breath and continued.

“I-I'm just a p-piece of soiled garbage flittering in The w-wind..” He burped and the smell of cheap alcohol wafted past Farmer Stern’s twitching nose.

“I've been coming here often lately… Looking down”...

“Here's a chance to finally take control of my life…. These cliffs.” Shane turned his head, swiping his hair through the mud to look out across the cliffs into the deep blue ocean and the trash filled shore below.

“Oh, Shane.” Came the farmer's quiet, deep, and incredibly rare voice. Stern reached out a hand and stroked Shane's hair, pulling the muddied and soaked locks from his face.

“B-But…” Shane hiccuped again.

“But I'm too scared, too anxious. Just like always…” He slightly pushed his head back into Stern's palm.

“Stern…” He groaned.

“All I do is work, sleep, and drink… T-to dull the feelings of self hatred…”

“Why should I even go on? Tell me… T-Tell me why I shouldn't roll off this cliff right now..”Shane turned his head once more, looking up at Stern, desperate for an answer.

“The decision is your own. Just know that I'm here for you.” Stern's surprisingly calming voice rang throughout the area.

“Thanks…” Shane replied softly.

“I appreciate that. I-I really do…”

“Stern…” He wheezed. Stern grunted in response, awaiting his next comment.

“I think you should take me to the hospital now..” Shane grunted before passing out, his face smacking into the mud.

“Alright. Up you get, then.” Stern easily lifted the man off the ground, one arm under his knees and the other under his back. Shane was quite short. A measly 5’6 to his astonishing 6’4. Shane groaned and sunk into his arms, nestling his head into his chest and clinging at his shirt strongly as Stern carried him all the way to the hospital.

[ask-felix-aberg]

Johanna had been busy stressing over exams, locked up in her RoR for weeks. When she finally emerged, bleary-eyed but enthusiastic at her success she realized in utter horror she had missed some birthdays, including one of her lovely housemates.

She scrambled around in desperation trying to figure out what he would like. "Oh Merlin help me!" she would often sigh.

But then it hit her like a truck. She knew what to do.

***

A goat walks into your bedroom, a sack strapped to his side. He is being led by a floating piece of his favorite invasive shrub. The sack has your name on it, in flashing magical colors.

Inside you find freshly baked lemon bars, a little knit scarf for your owl, a fresh batch of wiggenwelds, some fossils from the shore, and a detailed journal on some ancient magic sites with some possible archeological finds. A card also reads:

Hey Felix, sorry for the late birthday wishes. I hope you had an amazing day. I know we don't talk much but I think you're amazing.

Happy birthday again!

-Jo

Ps: if you ever want a exploring buddy sometime...I'm down

Felix was hunched over his desk, utterly engrossed in his homework, scribbling in the pages of his book when the door to his room creaked open. Without looking up, he muttered absentmindedly, "How was your shift, Als? Did the Hospital Wing keep you busy?"

When no answer came, the Ravenclaw frowned slightly, but before he could ask again, a familiar sound reached his ears.

Bää.

His quill froze mid-scribble. Slowly, Felix looked up from his book, or rather down, and nearly fell off his chair. A goat, staring right back at him, stood in the middle of his room. How did animals keep finding a way in here?

Felix rubbed his eyes and took a closer look. The colour of the fur... could it be? Hesitantly, he approached the animal and kneeled down beside it. "Als?" he asked, half expecting his friend to have been transformed. The creature stared back blankly, offering no response. Felix sighed in relief and gently patted its head.

That's when he noticed the flashing sack with his name in glowing, vibrant colours on it. Felix raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, and peeked inside. His eyes widened as a stunned sound escaped his lips - lemon bars! Wiggenweld potions and some fossils! Even a small knit scarf - too small for himself but the perfect size for Mademoiselle, he noticed. But what really caught his attention was an old journal. All of this... was for him? It was entirely too much.

At the bottom of the sack, he found a card, a smile slowly spread across his face as he read it. Jo had gone through all this trouble for him. Felix shook his head in disbelief, still amazed by the thoughtfulness.

With a soft whistle, Mademoiselle fluttered gracefully down onto his arm, as though she'd been waiting for him. "Look at you, Mademoiselle," Felix cooed, stroking her feathers. "You’re looking particularly radiant today. Have you been behaving?" Her haughty little huff said it all. Felix chuckled, unwrapping the small scarf from the sack.

"I have something for you," he said, watching as Mademoiselle squinted in his direction. He gently wrapped the scarf around her neck, admiring how perfectly it fit. "Now you look even more elegant," he said, patting and scratching her fondly. Mademoiselle preened, clearly pleased with herself.

Settling back at his desk, Felix took a bite of one of the lemon bars, letting out a hum of satisfaction. With the bar still between his lips, he picked up his quill and some parchment and began writing his reply.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─☆: .☽ . :☆─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Dear Jo,

Thank you so much for the birthday wishes - and for the many thoughtful gifts! I'm honestly speechless, especially since we don't know each other that well. (Yet!) I can't thank you enough - this must've cost a fortune! I'll definitely make it up to you!

I had a wonderful birthday, thanks to my friends - and now, thanks to you. :)

And yes, I am absolutely down for an adventure! In fact, I've heard rumours about some ruins on the other side of the Great Lake. The Wiggenweld potions will certainly come in handy for that!

Vi hörs!

Felix

P.S. The lemon bars are magnificent! P.P.S. What do I do with the goat?

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─☆: .☽ . :☆─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The Ravenclaw rolled up the note and secured it with a small piece of twine. But as he reached for Mademoiselle's foot, she began pecking at him, clearly unimpressed.

"Come on, Mademoiselle," Felix pleaded, flashing her a charming smile. "You look so fancy now, wouldn't you want as many people as possible to see that? Couldn't you be a dear and take this back to Jo for me? Pretty please?"

With a disdainful flap, Mademoiselle begrudgingly allowed Felix to tie the note to her leg. Felix grinned, patting her head affectionately. "That’s my girl."

And with that, Mademoiselle took off, soaring gracefully out the window.