#sorry been in a bit of a writing funk lately :/

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Amor

Summary: After a bad day at work, coming home to his family makes Javi realize his day wasn't so bad after all

Word Count: 1.9K

Pairing: Dad!Javi x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Tooth rotting, sickening, fluff 😩😭 Allusions to smut, breeding kink, dad!Javi needs his own warning bc oh my GOD (more specifically, girl dad!Javi...) (*Also general spoiler warning if you don't want to read NTL out of order!*)

A/N: Y'ALL. I told you the dad!Javi brain rot was UNREAL. After writing this, I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to stop writing for dad!Javi ever and I'm not even sorry about it 🤷🏼‍♀️ Don't mind me casually screaming from the rooftops about how much I am obsessed him okay BYE 🤪

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the NTL universe!

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

Shitty. 

There were a lot of words Javi could have used to describe how his day at work had gone. 

At 9:30, after his weekly phone call with border patrol, who provided him with little to no helpful information, the word would have been annoying. 

At 11:15, after Agent Miller knowingly jammed the copier and left it for someone else to fix, leaving Javi with no way to make any copies, the word would have been frustrated. 

At 3:40, after his department meeting with the other Sheriff’s Offices from the county, none of whom came prepared, as usual, the word would have been angry. 

And now, at 6:15, after a spilled afternoon coffee, a giant stack of paperwork that had been thrown on his desk, and a pounding headache, the word to describe his day was nothing short of shitty. 

Throwing his briefcase into the passenger’s seat, cranking the AC up and the volume of his car radio to zero, Javi sat in his truck, silently brooding in his moodiness to sulk in the misery that had been his absolutely shitty day. 

The rest of his drive home was the same as his pouting in the parking lot of the Laredo County Sheriff’s Department- no music, no windows down, no grin on his face like his usual drives home after work. Javi couldn’t remember a day at work this shitty since the DEA, and that in itself was saying something. 

As Javi pulled onto your street, dust swooshed beneath the bouncing of his truck tires along the gravel road, the sun just beginning to fade from its vibrant yellows and oranges to its soft pinks, beaming behind the clouds scattered throughout the September sky. The view was just enough to snap him out of his overbearing funk- the brightly colored sunset painted behind the view of your house and tiny, shadowed figures dancing in the driveway meant that nothing else in the world mattered anymore. Not frustrating colleagues, piles of paperwork, even spilt cups of desperately deserved coffee. The only thing that mattered to him now, were his 4 favorite people in the world, waiting for him to come home. The only thing that mattered was his family. 

Lucy was the first to notice Javi’s truck rolling down the driveway, immediately prompting the 4 of you to pause your soccer game that had been happening in the front yard, which, after your two year old had decided she wanted to get involved, had really turned into more of a match of “Chase Harper through the grass as she tries to run away with the soccer ball”. 

“Daddy’s home!” Lucy and Elliot squealed, bolting towards Javi’s truck as it finally reached a halt at the end of the driveway, prompting you to scoop up Harper and follow behind, knowing she would be just as thrilled to see her dad, even if her little legs couldn’t keep up with her older sisters' quite yet. The girls bounced in excitement, frantically waving at Javi as they waited for him to exit the car.

From the moment the driver’s side door was open, and both Javi’s feet were on the ground, Lucy and Elliot were wrapped around Javi’s waist, squeezing him with a love and affection that instantly eased every last bit of stress, melting away any remnants of the previous parts of his day. 

“Hi Daddy!” The girls giggled in delight as they latched tighter around their dad’s hip, the feeling instantly making him crouch down to their level and drape his arms around them, pulling them in as closely as he could in return.

“Hola, Pollitas.” (Hi, little chickens). The sigh Javi let out was like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, hugging his girls just a little tighter and longer than normal, almost as if he couldn’t bear to let them go. 

“Daddy, you’re squishing me!” Elliot squealed, wriggling her little body in Javi’s grasp. 

“Yeah, Dad, you’re gonna crush us!” Lucy teased, both the girls bursting into laughter as Javi gave them one last squeeze before hosting them up, letting their little legs flail as he shook them in his grasp before setting them back down, pressing a soft kiss on each of their heads. 

“Crush my Pollitas? Never. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Javi teased back, making the girls roll their eyes. 

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Harper cooed, outstretching her arms towards Javi as the two of you made it to the driveway, Javi immediately scooping her up from you and hosting her in the air, peppering her with little kisses across her body, making her squeal just as loudly as her sisters. 

“Mi mas pequeño amor (My littlest love).” Javi grinned, resting Harper against his hip as his little fan club had finally parted ways enough for you to greet your husband, gently cradling his face in your hands, pressing a soft kiss on his lips, savoring the sweet taste of him that felt like home. 

“Hi.” You smiled, pulling back just enough to see the sweet grin spread across his face before leaning back in for a hug, letting the warmth and scent of his body engulf you whole, making the grin on your face just as wide as his. “Long day?” You asked, still pressed against his chest, noting his arrival time back home was later than normal. 

“Not anymore.” He beamed, staring down at you with that tender gaze that still made you melt, even after all your years together. 

“Daddy, can I show you the picture I made you in art today? Please, please, please?” Lucy pleaded, once again wrapped around Javi’s hip, gently tugging at his shirt for his attention. 

“I made one, too!” Elliot interjected, crossing her arms in defiance, a shocked look on her face that her sister dared to leave her out of the art contribution about to be made to their dad. 

“Your little artists have been hard at work today.” You grinned. “I’m pretty sure the Peña house is going to soon be a nationally recognized museum for pictures of puppies, Daddy, and gorillas.” 

“Gorillas? That’s a new one.” Javi laughed, looking at you with a confused tilt of your head, your only response to shrug your shoulders in just as much confusion and amusement. 

“Mrs. Collins read us a book about them in library today! So I showed Elliot and Harper how to draw them!” Lucy beamed, proudly crossing her arms over her chest with a satisfied nod. 

“I’m sure they’re amazing, mi amor (my love), gorillas and all.”  

“Alright goobers, now that Daddy’s home it’s time for dinner, why don’t you go clean up the rest of your art stuff and we can show Daddy your pictures before we eat.” You smiled, Javi gently setting Harper back on the ground, only to quickly be scooped back up again by Lucy, the 3 girls racing through the front yard and into the house, giggling and screeching in excitement the whole way there, leaving you and Javi watching your daughters dash across the driveway. 

Once the girls were out of sight, Javi’s hands slid down your sides, fingers pressing into your hips as he tugged you in closer, making your rest your hands on his broad chest as he kissed you, now making you giggle as he grabbed an unexpected handful of your ass, giving it a playful smack as you swatted at him, rolling your eyes. 

“You’re in a surprisingly good mood for having a shitty day at work.” You smirked, biting down on your lip as you raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. 

“How’d you know I had a bad day at work?” Javi asked, cocking his head in confusion, hand still gripped tightly around the small of your back. 

“Because I know you like the back of my hand, Javier Jesús Peña. I could just tell. Plus, you always give those girls an extra big hug after a long day, since I know how much you miss them, even though you literally saw them this morning.” You snickered, lovingly nudging Javi before pressing another kiss onto his lips. 

“What? Like it’s a crime to miss my family while I’m stuck in terrible fucking meetings and doing shitty ass paper work all day? To wanna spend all my time with my beautiful daughters and their even more beautiful momma? Fine, guilty as charged, I guess.” Javi winked, gently tracing his thumb on the soft skin of your stomach, barley peeking out between your shirt and shorts. 

“Well I guess the five of us will all just head off to Peña prison together since we’re all guilty of missing you just as much.” 

“God, you’re such a dork.” He sighed, pulling you in to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I love you so much, Osita.” 

“I love you too, Jav.” The two of you stood there for a moment longer, the comfort of each other’s embrace, forever your favorite feeling. “Okay, we should probably get back in there before the munchkins get up to no good, huh? In addition to trying to teach Elliot and Harper how to draw gorillas, Lucy was also trying to teach them how to body check someone when they played hockey in the driveway.” 

“They are their mother’s daughters, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Plus, I apparently have some pictures of gorillas to go see.” Javi chuckled, reaching back to open the passenger side door of his truck to pull out his bag as the two of you headed back towards the house. 

“Well, if you needed something to make you feel better, looking at Elliot’s attempt at drawing you, her, Lucy and Harper riding on a purple gorilla while I chase you riding a rainbow gorilla will probably do the trick.” The two of you laughed, walking hand in hand to the front door, pausing one last time on your porch before entering back into the giggles and grins filling your home. “And if that doesn’t work, I bet after we put the girls to bed, I can think of something else that might help you feel better, too.” You smirked, eyeing Javi up and down with a mischievous grin spread across your face. 

“Yeah? You gonna let me give me baby number 4, huh Momma?” Javi’s face lit up, biting down on his lip, his eyes wide and smirk even bigger than yours. 

“Bold of you to assume the rainbow gorilla isn’t enough. Guess we do have an extra room to fill, don’t we?” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge before heading through the door, joining the girls in the kitchen, eagerly waiting with drawings in hand to show their dad. As Javi trailed behind you, greeted by the image of his wife and daughters gleefully gathered around the kitchen counter, waving their colorful papers at him, he couldn’t help but feel his heart burst at the seams, flooded with sense of love and comfort that he was convinced nothing else on this earth would ever be able to top. 

Even on the shittiest of days, Javi knew that nothing could really ever be that bad, knowing he would get to spend the rest of his life coming home to the 4 people in the world that made it all worth it. Knowing he would spend his forever surrounded by the love of his family.

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @dappydelta @blackfemalenerd

[watermelonsugacry]

Could you do a blurb showing how Harry and 1dbandmate!yn reacted over the years when asked in interviews if they were a couple?? please 🙏

Always Asked

A/N: been in a writing funk lately but i'm happy i got this one done since i miss writing and posting to you all!! 💚

SUMMARY: Snippets of interviews over the years from when YN and Harry were asked if they were dating. (3.4k)

GENRE: 1dbandmate!yn, famous!yn

SINCE 2010 masterlist

2011:

Never in a million years did YN ever think her dream career would start so soon. It’s only been a year since she auditioned for the XFactor and now she’s sitting at a table next to her bandmates as hundreds of fans go down the line to get a copy of their freshly signed album. 

With copious amounts of screaming comes along an abundance of questions thrown at the teenagers. Most of the time, it’s YN giving the screaming fans a beautiful smile, asking them how they are, and thanking them for their kind words before passing the signed CD case to Harry. With all the excitement in the air, she feels like she’s truly living the pop star lifestyle she’d seen many others live out.

“Hiya, love,” YN smiles at the preteen girl who’s practically vibrating with excitement at seeing the famous band. She also gives a polite greeting to the supportive dad of the young girl who has his hands on his daughter’s shoulders. “How are you? I love your shirt.”

She compliments, smiling at seeing the young girl wearing a shirt with YN’s face on it. 

“My dad got it for me for my birthday!” The little fan beams.

“Did he?” YN animatedly gasps with a smile. “Well, it was nice of him to take you over here, yeah?”

She signs the CD case with a heart over her name before sliding it over to Harry. His fingers brush over hers and the two of them catch each other’s gaze. A smile tugs on their lips before looking away just as quickly. 

“Are you two dating?” The young girl practically screams out, her eyes bouncing back and forth excitedly between YN and Harry. 

The two teenagers tense up, thrown off by the question in such a crowded place. Their management team is still media-training them and while they’ve learned so much already, they’re still getting used to taking what they’ve learned out into the field.

YN and Harry give each other a look, already knowing the answer but searching in one another’s eyes for maybe a smidge of something more.

“Lilly!” The dad scolds before letting out a chuckle. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” YN shakes her head with a smile, hoping it's convincing enough to not cause any suspicion. “Sorry Lilly, but Harry and I aren’t dating because quite frankly—” She beckons the little fan closer, cupping her mouth but still being loud so her bandmate can hear, “—he has cooties.”

Harry’s immediately furrowing his brows together and lets out a long and playful, “Hey!”

“Ew!” Lilly laughs, seeming satisfied with that answer before waving goodbye and walking towards the rest of the band.

Before they can dwell on what just happened, thankfully the next fan shuffles over for their own interaction and signed copy.

2012:

The band is at their first Brits Awards show and needless to say, they all got a little tipsy after their win. Their team didn’t even have time to give them a snack or water bottle to help sober them up a little bit before their backstage press interviews.

“Harry, how will you guys be celebrating tonight?” A journalist asks from the crowd.

“Erm,” Harry giggles to himself and it makes YN tipsily follow from her spot next to him. The hand that isn't gripping onto their award goes to cover her smile. “I think we’re just gonna hang out and stuff.”

“YN? Is there any lucky man whom you will be celebrating with?” Another voice in the sea of reporters asks.

“Nope,” YN raises her eyes with a tipsy smile and a slow shake of her head. She shakes her thumb towards her boys with a click of her tongue. “Just these lads.”

“Any lucky lad in particular? Perhaps a curly-headed one standing next to you?”

Almost as if it was planned, the two teenagers comically look beside each other, cranking their necks in playful search of who the intrusive lady was referring to.

“Me?” Harry dramatically questions, pointing to his chest with a bright, open-mouthed, dimpled smile gracing his face.

“Well, I mean he is part of the band, is he not?” YN sassily purses her lips together, her media-training to retain her “good girl” image slipping out of her alcohol induced brain. 

Thankfully, before anything could be escalated further by the tipsy girl, the intrusive press, or the snickering boys, a member from their management team instructs the audience to move onto another person.

2013:

“You guys have known each other for what seems like forever now and your bond with the rest of the guys is so strong...” 

YN reaches forward for a sip from her glass of water on the panel table in her seat in between Harry and Niall. It’s been a long week for the band as they do press for their new movie, This Is Us. They’ve been thrown left and right with interviews that YN can’t help but already be done with the repetitiveness of some of the questions.  

“So then we’re all clearly curious to know if you and Harry are dating?”

“Nope,” YN pops the ‘P’ and shakes her head as if her actions were automatically programmed to respond in that way. She casually waves her finger between the two boys beside her, “But him and Niall are though.” 

The crowd of press people laugh and chuckle as they see Naill gasp and Harry raise his eyebrows in playful shock.

“I mean, you kinda pointed it out,” YN puts on her media-trained smile good enough to win an Oscar. “These lads are like my brothers and our bond is so strong because we see each other more like family than anything else. I see them more as annoying than someone I'd rather date, to be honest,” she forces out a light laugh. 

“Plus, as YN so kindly pointed out,” Harry leans on his elbows on the table as he looks to his crush next to him. YN can see his dimple dig into his cheek as he fights off a smirk. “M’happily in a committed relationship with Niall.”

Harry doesn’t take his eyes off of his bandmate as he leans back into his seat. He watches as she tucks her chin into her chest, her fingers rubbing over her lips to cover her giggle as the rest of the room breaks out in commotion.

2014:

“Can we assume that the rock on your finger is from a certain curly-headed lad?” The woman who’s interviewing them for the band’s new book Who We Are excitedly asks. 

The band are all sat on an L-shaped couch as they discuss the contents of the hard cover book. Sat in between Zayn and Niall, YN purposely avoids her gaze from Harry as she answers.

“No,” YN lets out a forced chuckle as she looks down to fidget with the diamond ring on her finger. Anyone who has looked at more than three pictures of YN can tell that her favorite pieces of jewelry are her assortment of rings along her fingers. But only true fans know that part of her liking to the small jewelry is to help her fidget with them when she has anxiety. It’s an odd feeling however that the newly gifted one has been the cause of her increase in nerves. “It’s um, from me boyfriend—well, fiancé now—Matthew. Harry is like a brother to me so that would be quite weird.” 

“Of course! I was only teasing, love.” The woman laughs with an over-exaggerated smile, clearly disappointed in the answer she was given. “Congratulations to you both.”

“Thank you,” YN forces a smile, still twisting at the shiny ring that sticks out like a sore thumb.

2015:

“YN.”

“James.” She says with the same amount of playful seriousness, the audience in front of them laughs along. As the date of the band’s long-awaited hiatus comes closer and closer, their good friend James Corden interviews them in the same location where they filmed the music video for Story of My Life. 

“Harold,” the host directs his attention to the band member sitting next to her.

The fans in the crowd only giggle in giddiness even further as Harry playfully throws a hand up in confusion with what the fans call his ‘frog’ smile. 

“Now, we are all truly devastated when we heard the news that you and your long-time partner had called it quits a couple of weeks ago.” The audience laughs when James comically shakes his head no. YN even lets out a laugh when she sees the fans in the audience cheer at the news of her new relationship status. Despite the support she feels from the fans, it doesn’t necessarily calm the nerves at why the host brought the topic up in the first place. “Now we’re also all wondering if this may have possibly opened up, I don’t know, an opportunity for you to seek something with another lad?”

“Um,” YN lazily holds her microphone to her lips as she gives James the news that will hopefully shut down the conversation. “I think m’gonna just focus on myself for a bit. Yeh know, take a break from dating and all that.”

The room breaks out into chuckles when the host makes noises like he doesn’t believe her. He wags his interview cards in the air as he says, "I mean, both of your writing credits on some love songs tell me otherwise..."

Truthfully, the two friends can't deny that logic. They've either individually or co-wrote a plethora of love songs...that may or may not have been about each other. But will they ever admit that to a room full of their fans who have been shipping them since their XFactor days? Hello no.

“Well, the beauty that YN and I see in music is that songs are always up for interpretation," Harry interjects. "They can mean anything you want them to be, in any sort of scenario.”

“Yeah, like, lyrics don’t always necessarily have to come from a place of experience,” YN adds on, professionally keeping her voice from wavering in nervousness. “It certainly helps but that’s not always the case. Especially now.”

She can’t help but laugh along with the rest of the crowd as James holds an expression like he doesn’t believe a word they said.

“Okay, fine. Deny it all you want,” James puts his hands up defensively. “I just...I don’t know, I just think that this could really be Something Great.”

The room of fans (and die hard ynrry shippers) squeal and scream out in a mixture of excitement and disbelief from his use of the One Direction songs that are heavily speculated to be about YN and Harry. 

“Whatever, it’s your guy’s decision at the End of the Day,” James continues nonchalantly, trying to hide the smile that shows that he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

Fans’ eyes bounce back and forth between the two band members in question. They see as YN has her hands clasped together on her crossed legs, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her witty comments to herself. Harry, on the other hand, leans his elbow on his knee with his index finger over his smirk. He tries to cover up his chuckle with a cough to his fist before pushing back his long curls. 

“All we want is for you guys to live Happily ever after, is all.”

2017:

“Now, both of you little sneaky sneaks went to Jamaica together to make his album. Come on, tell me I’m wrong,” Nick Grimshaw teases, wiggling his fingers in a beckoning motion.

The two were currently on BBC Radio with their good friend that they’ve known since their days in the band. Dropping their first solo albums in the same week caused their fan bases to go into a frantic frenzy. The two have a full day ahead of them as their record labels and management teams paired the two up for a day jam-packed with press and interviews together.

“You are not wrong,” Harry laughs, adjusting the chunky headphones over his ears. He’s already rolled up his white button-up sleeves and discarded his picnic table-looking blazer to lay on the back of his chair.

“Sneaky sneaks?” YN chuckles next to him, leaning her elbows on the counter and moving her hips to rotate her swiveling seat from side to side.

“Well, I only say that because you guys are obviously dating now, right?”

“Do girl and guy best friends always have to be dating?” YN easily swerves the question back to the radio host.

“Well,” Grimmy tilts his head from side to side. “Not necessarily, but wouldn’t that be a good story? For your future kiddos perhaps?”

YN and Harry bark out a laugh.

“Sorry, m’getting ahead of myself. Maybe you lads would want to save that for your wedding day instead.”

“Can I swear on the radio?” YN playfully yet genuinely asks the host which makes Harry giggle.

“But I mean, what are your fans—and quite frankly, the rest of the world—supposed to think when a good majority of the songs on his album are about you, Miss Two Ghosts?” Nick teases with a wiggle of his eyebrow.

YN’s jaw humorously drops, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as a nervous laugh threatens to escape. The two knew that they would get poked and pried with questions and accusations like this since their trip to Jamaica. There’s no use in trying to deny their close relationship with one another, spending more time with one another than any of their fellow band members since the start of the hiatus. 

Unable to quickly come up with an explanation, being so caught off guard, she turns to the only other person she can trust. 

“Jenny?” YN playfully calls for her manager who’s behind the glass window of the radio studio, leaning forward to look at her despite Harry in the way. 

“Help me, Jeffery,” Harry playfully pleads to his manager as well.

“No, no Jeffery. Jenny, get back in your chair, young lady.” Nick points out for the listeners who can’t see what’s currently happening. “Alright, I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” The host waves his hands, seeing the two visually calm down at the news. “Now, I’ll just play the one Harry wrote about YN. This is Two Ghosts!”

Harry playfully yells out an “Oh, no!” as he pushes himself away from the desk. YN lets out a humored scream at the same time, taking off her chunky radio headphones and tossing them onto the desk. 

2020:

“Okay, a big question that I’ve been getting on Twitter since it was announced that the two of you would be on here today,” Roman Kemp waves a hand in front of him at the Capital FM Breakfast Radio headquarters as he looks onto the two pop stars in front of him on the Zoom call. The couple can be seen in two separate rooms: Harry in a naturally lit room while YN sits against one of the brick walls in her bedroom.

Harry has his purple robe on that his girlfriend gifted him a couple of years ago, looking as comfy as ever since he doesn’t have to get dressed up to go outside for anything lately due to being on lockdown. 

YN on the other hand, didn’t want to miss the opportunity to get dolled up. Well, at least from the waist up. She wears one of her silk button-up blouses with her last name embroidered on the left chest, her hair neatly done up in a slick ponytail and her make-up nicely done. When she got complimented on her look, she clumsily lifted her leg up to show off her heart-decorated, fluffy pajama pants.

“And I feel like both of your fan bases combined would come out of quarantine to quite literally murder me if I don’t ask you guys this...” YN and Harry keep a mutual face on as they wait to hear what the host has to say. “We all know that you guys are an official couple now, but are you guys physically staying together at the moment? Like, are you guys living together or at the same house or...?”

The couple takes a second to process the intimate question. As Harry parts his lips to answer, he’s interrupted by his girlfriend speaking first. 

“Y’know, we’re kind of tired of getting questions like this. I don’t think it’s really appropriate for other people to know about that kind of stuff,” The crease between YN’s eyebrows becomes more apparent and her shoulders move sharply after letting out a deep sigh.

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry if I offended you guys—” The radio host quickly begins to retract.

“M’sorry but I think m’actually gonna log off now. Erm, thank you for having us.” YN curtly nods before the host and Harry’s faces fill the screen, both with wide eyes at the unexpected reaction from the go-happy pop star.

“Wait, did that really just happen?” Roman and the other two interviewers are deers in headlights, his eyes bouncing around the screen to make sure what just took place. 

“I think so,” Harry sighs. “It’s just a sensitive topic for us, y’know. I can’t really blame her for what she did,” He professionally hides his smile as he hears the quick pad of footsteps coming down her spiral staircase.

“I really meant no harm, it’s just—”

“It’s just really hard to keep our private life private, you know?” Harry drags on with a deep sigh. “And it's just really hard for us to have to answer things like this. Like, we don’t really know what you guys expect us to do when...” Harry’s dimples dig into his cheeks, a boyish giggle comes tumbling past his lips when YN peaks her head sideways in front of his laptop camera.

“YN!” Romans scolds with a bright smile, infinitely relieved he didn’t just make enemies with the world’s favorite female pop star. He dramatically throws a hand over his heart.

“Sorry, I’m sorry! It was just too good and Ro, I think you’re the only one that would be able to handle a joke like that.” YN laughs as she slides in close to her comfy-looking boyfriend.

“So I’m assuming this confirms my previous question?” The host asks excitedly.

“Yeah,” Harry smiles fondly at his love, discreetly wrapping an arm around her waist that’s low enough to not be shown on camera. “We’ve been living at YN’s place in LA for a couple of weeks now. And yeah, it’s been fun.”

2022:

In a full black suit, Harry is escorted to the next interviewer on the red carpet for the premiere of My Policeman. After a couple of initial questions, the eager woman asks, “Last thing before you get whisked away, on behalf of the fandom and everyone else on this planet, we just want to send a massive amount of love to you and YN.”

“Thank you very much,” He nods, putting a hand over his heart and trying his hardest to keep the growing smile on his face at bay. 

“And we are all just dying to know,” She takes a quick, excited glance back to the camera. “If you’re going to drop the big question soon?”

Harry can’t help but huff out a laugh, the kind where his dimples dig into his cheeks and the crows feet appear next to his eyes. If they only knew that YN kept the ring he gave her—the ring that signifies their promise to become husband and wife on their anniversary—at home for the sake of privacy and for this very reason. 

“Um,” He looks up in fake contemplation before giving her a cheeky shrug. “I dunno. Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?”

“Well, best of luck to you both.”

After being escorted away, the camera doesn’t stop filming Harry as he goes over to stand next to his fiancée on the red carpet. Although the camera can’t pick up what YN says to Emma Corin that makes the actress laugh, her beaming smile turns to Harry when she feels his hand on her back. He can’t hold back from planting a loving peck on her cheek before the two are escorted to their next section on the red carpet. 

2023:

On a show in Cardiff, Harry adjusts a flag on his shoulder as he walks around the catwalk on stage. As he begins to sing Satellite, he makes a stop to sing to a group by the barricade. 

It’s nothing new to YN and Harry’s respective shows when fans bring signs with something on it to get the artists’ attention. Honestly, it’s become one of the parts of the show they look forward to the most.

So when Harry’s eyes move over to a newly raised sign that says ‘shag?’ on it, he breaks out into a smirk. Part of the fun of when fans bring signs is that there’s always a handful that asks these sorts of questions: Are you single? Can I have your number? Are you dating? 

It’s not so much the content written on the signs that makes the interaction so enjoyable; it’s the response that he gives. 

Because all Harry does is break out into that dimpled, love sick smile that YN can’t get enough of and happily points to his wedding band.

.

.

Taglist:

@ashtongivesmebutterflies @cacapeepee

(let me know if you want to be added to the taglist 💚)

[agentplutonium]

Been in a weird writing funk for a few months now so I thought I'd try to write something small for y'all here. Of course, it is Milo/Sweetheart. Of course it is a comfort fic. This seems to be the theme when I am not in the best of spirits. Anyway, writing below the cut!!

"Sweets! I'm home!" Milo called as soon as he was in the door. The house was dark, something he noticed when he pulled into their driveway. The text that Milo sent to Sweetheart saying he was on his way home went ignored, which was unusual. The house was quiet too, which was also unusual.

Well, almost quiet, as the meows of Aggro started coming through the house as the cat made his way to Milo. Aggro found him as he was just putting his keys and wallet down, rubbing up against his legs and meowing up at him. He seemed a bit stressed more than usual, which worried him.

"Hi buddy," Milo said, a small smile on his face, bending down to pet him. "Where's Sweetheart?"

The cat blinked up at him for a second before taking off down the hallway. Milo followed without hesitation, worry creasing his brows. He knew that nothing bad had happened, but he still couldn't help but worry. They had bailed on the plans with the pack tonight because something came up at work again. They had been going nonstop for weeks at this point, early mornings leading to late evenings. It wasn't good for them, Milo could say that much. The tension that they carried in their body the last little bit was not fun to watch, or the growing dark circles under their eyes. Milo wished he could stop time every time he heard Sweetheart's alarm go off and they begrudgingly dragged themselves out of bed. Just to give them a few more moments of rest that he knew they deserved.

When Milo got to the bedroom, Aggro was staring at the closed door in front of him. Odd. Normally Sweetheart would leave it open enough for Aggro to come and go freely.

"Is this what had you so worried?" Milo asked him, to which he got a meow in response. Milo knocked gently on the door, ear pressed close to hear if they were in there. He didn't hear anything. A frown edged his lips. "Sweetheart? You in here?"

When he didn't get a response, he opened the door and stepped inside, eyes adjusting to the dark fast and spotting a figure curled up in the bed. Aggro bolted under his feet and was on the bed in a split second. The figure on the bed stirred a bit as Aggro sniffed around before settling beside them.

As Milo turned on the bedside lamp, he realized that Sweetheart had fallen asleep still in their work clothes. He sighed, glad that they were okay and unharmed. He brushed some hair out of their face, hand trailing down their cheek afterwards. Sweetheart stirred a bit more, eyes blinking open at the touch.

"Well hello there," Milo said, a small giggle breaking out from under his breath. He still was rubbing gentle circles into their cheek.

"What time..." Sweetheart slurred, reaching for their phone that was haphazardly placed beside them. If Milo had to guess, they were likely on it before falling asleep, and it dropped when they were finally out. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Just after ten," Milo answered them when they frowned at their now dead phone. "Just got home."

"Sorry," Sweetheart muttered, rubbing their eyes.

"Don't apologize," Milo said, fondness dripping from his words. "But, I tell you what. Why don't you finally get out of these clothes and put on some pyjamas? It might be a bit more comfortable."

Sweetheart nodded, sitting up with the guidance of Milo's hands, a yawn spiling from their lips.

"Stay here," Milo whispered to them, crossing the room to the dresser, rooting around for a pair of pyjamas.

"You don't have to--" Sweetheart started.

"I want to, though," Milo cut them off, already walking back. "I'm still wondering how you were able to fall asleep like this," he said jokingly, placing the pyjamas beside them and plucking off their glasses.

"Was tired after work, and it was, like, 7 PM by the time I got home. I had already eaten so I was just gonna lay down for a little bit. Looks like I ended up falling asleep," Sweetheart explained.

"It must have been a long day," Milo commented, reaching for their wrist so that he could take off their watch. He kissed along their knuckles when he was done, and he just caught the small smile that graced their lips at the motion.

"Something like that," Sweetheart sighed.

He turned to place the items on the bedside table as Sweetheart started to change. When that was done, he reached for their phone to plug it in, already setting the alarms that they set every night in the process. It was quiet in the room, but Milo didn't mind that. As long as he could feel Sweetheart's aura pulsing from them in time with their core, that was all he needed. Not to mention Sweetheart was still half asleep, there probably wasn't anything that they wanted to talk about.

"Are you hungry?" Milo asked after he finished his tasks, pressing a kiss into Sweetheart's shoulder. "When was the last time you ate?"

"At six," Sweetheart said. "Supper was bought for us when we had to stay behind. It was very nice actually. Though..."

"You want a small snack don't you?" Milo teased, already moving back toward the kitchen. "The usual?"

"Please," Sweetheart said. There was a pause before Milo heard their feet come padding behind him. "I love you," They added from behind him.

"I love you too," Milo said, hand instinctively reaching behind him. Sweetheart's fingers intertwined with them in a heartbeat, making Milo's chest fill with warmth. "Some would even say I love you more."

"Impossible," Sweetheart said, chuckling.

In the kitchen, Sweetheart didn't break away from him until he handed them their smoothie drink from the fridge. Milo grabbed the last of the strawberries from the fridge, and grabbed a bowl and a knife, before settling beside where they sat on the counter.

"How was the party?" Sweetheart asked. "Did you have fun?"

"Not as much fun as I would've if you were there," Milo said sincerely. He loves his pack, of course he does, but he also loves showing off for Sweetheart who loves his antics. Secretly.

"Oh, stop," Sweetheart said, but even when they took a sip of their drink they weren't able to hide their smile.

"And the pack missed you," Milo added. "Got asked where you were at least every few minutes for the first, like, half hour."

"They missed me that much?"

"You've barely been around for three weeks at this point, Sweets, of course they have," Milo said. "They love you."

Sweetheart didn't answer, but Milo could sense that they were glowing without even looking at them. When he did glance at them, he was caught by their beauty again. Even like this, with their hair a mess, cheeks red with sleep, and the last remaining lines fading from their skin. God, was he ever lucky to have them.

When Sweetheart realized what he was doing, they groaned, pushing his face away from them. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" Milo asked, chuckling.

"Looking at me like that!"

"Like you're the only person in the whole world?" Milo asked.

Sweetheart didn't answer, just grumbled something, much to Milo's amusement. "Just focus on the strawberries before you cut your finger off."

"Please," Milo said, "I could do this in my sleep."

"I'm not rushing you to the hospitable if you hurt yourself," Sweetheart said.

"Sure," Milo said. "The love of my life, my mate, wouldn't bat an eye if I accidentally cut myself."

"I wouldn't," Sweetheart said.

"Which is totally reasonable," Milo said, "especially after I've been terrorizing you with my lov--ow!"

Milo dropped the knife, clutching his right thumb with his other hand. Sweetheart immediately reacted, placing their drink down and grabbing for his hand.

"What did I tell you! Here, let me see," They chided, brows creasing together as they pried his fingers away from his thumb to see--nothing. Sweetheart stared at his thumb for a few moments, blinking, before they groaned again. "You jerk!" They said, lightly pushing him away. "I was worried about you!"

"So you do worry when I hurt myself," Milo teased.

"You're evil," Sweetheart grumbled, crossing their arms.

Milo hummed, scootching over so that he could settle between their legs, a hand automatically settling on their thigh. "You love me," he said, his other hand coming up to cup the back of their neck and pull them in for a kiss. For someone who thought he was evil, they sure did respond to his touch, melting into him the second their lips touched.

"Evil," they muttered against his lips, though with considerably no force behind it.

"Will this make up for it?" Milo asked after he pulled away, reaching for the bowl beside them and presenting it.

"Maybe," Sweetheart said. They accepted the offered bowl.

"Dork," Milo muttered fondly, stealing a strawberry half. Sweetheart didn't respond, just wrinkling their nose at him. "Do you have the weekend off?"

Sweetheart nodded. "Finally."

"Perfect," Milo said, smiling.

"I swear to God if you say 'like you'--"

"Like you," Milo said, chuckling when Sweetheart lightly smacked his chest. "Eat, so we can go to bed."

--END--

[massivedrickhead]

“You haven’t been yourself” from the angst prompt list if you haven’t gotten it yet :)

Surprise! Bet you thought I'd given up on this prompt request (I had too) but I finally managed to pull something together.

I haven't really felt motivated to write at all for basically the whole year, and that really bums me out. So I'm trying my best to get back to some abandoned WIPs in the hopes that i'll get me out of this funk.

Apologies for the legth of time it has taken for me to get this out, I really hope it was worth the wait.

-

“You haven’t been yourself.”

Prompt taken from here

Read on AO3

-

“Are you even listening to me?”

Beca blinked and looked up from her phone. “Sorry,” she said. “What were you saying?”

“I was just asking if you’re okay,” Chloe said, frowning at the bags under Beca’s eyes. “You’ve been a bit quiet lately.”

“I’m fine,” Beca said, one hand rubbing at her tired eyes as she turned her attention back to her phone. “I’m always quiet.”

“Not like this,” Chloe said. Not with me, she wanted to add. “You just don’t really seem like yourself.”

Beca shrugged. “I’m fine,” she repeated, though she didn’t sound any more convincing a second time. “Work’s been busy.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, knowing she wasn’t going to get any more out of her. “I’m gonna go shower. Stacie text and asked us to meet her for drinks, are you coming?”

Beca shook her head. “I’ve got a lot of work to get done,” she said, frowning at her phone as she tried to clear the seemingly never-ending list of emails. 

Chloe resisted the urge to pull the phone out of her hand, and instead turned and headed to the bathroom, swallowing down her frustration as she all but slammed the door behind her. 

Beca didn’t even register the noise. 

Her list of unread emails was growing longer by the second, each one seeming more important than the last. 

She was in the same spot when Chloe emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, and she still hadn’t moved another thirty minutes after that, when a fully dressed Chloe was heading out the door.

“We’ll be in Albertini’s if you change your mind,” Chloe said.

“Uh huh,” Beca replied. “Have fun.”

The front door closed and Beca’s eyes remained fixed on her phone screen. 

She tried to read an email from her boss, but she couldn’t focus enough to take in the words. She read it top to bottom three times without taking in a single word of it.

She was too distracted by a throbbing headache that felt like it was pushing against the backs of her eyes. She was hungry too, and her back hurt from the hunched-over position that she’d spent most of the day in.

Her phone began pinging with messages from Stacie, no doubt chastising her for not coming to the bar, and five more emails had hit her inbox by the time she’d closed out the one she hadn’t been able to read from her boss. 

It felt like everyone wanted something from her lately. 

She felt pulled in too many directions.

Stretched too thin. 

Chloe said she hadn’t seemed like herself, and she was right. Beca wasn’t herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been. 

She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the itchy tiredness from her eyes, and pulled her attention back to the email.

Chloe arrived back at their apartment several hours later, a little buzzed but not drunk, and it surprised her to find Beca in the same position as when she left, as if time had been paused when she’d shut the apartment door.

Beca had looked up at the sound of the door opening, but her attention returned to her phone almost immediately. She’d made some progress on her emails, but not nearly enough to justify the length of time she’d spent on them.

“Have you really not moved the whole time I was gone?” Chloe asked, pouring herself a glass of water.

“I guess not,” Beca replied. “I didn’t even realise it had been that long.”

“Seriously, what is going on with you?”

It’s the tone of Chloe’s voice rather than the question that made Beca’s shoulders finally slump. Chloe sounded worried, and Beca hated that she was the cause.

“I… I don’t know,” Beca said. 

Chloe left the kitchen and joined Beca on the sofa. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“But something is wrong?” Chloe asked.

“Something feels wrong,” she said. “But I don’t know what. I don’t know why.”

Chloe let out a sigh and put her hand on top of Beca’s. “Okay,” she said. “How can I help?”

Beca opened her mouth but closed it again when no answer came. She shook her head and laughed. “I don’t know.”

“Have you eaten?”

Beca shook her head again.

“We can start there,” Chloe said. “I’m starving. Put that phone down and come help me make some ramen or something.”

Beca gave another quiet laugh but did as she was told. Chloe didn’t need her help making ramen, but Beca needed something to break this cycle she was stuck in. Something to focus on so she didn’t remain trapped in that indecision of what to do next.

“How’s Stacie?” Beca asked, following Chloe into the kitchen. 

“She’s good,” Chloe said. “She kept trying to set me up with guys at the bar.”

“Oh?”

“Uh huh,” Chloe said, smirking at the tone shift in Beca’s voice. “She doesn’t know I’m spoken for.”

“You didn’t think to tell her?”

“We said we’d do that together,” Chloe replied. “But you keep bailing on drinks.”

“I’m sorry,” Beca said, taking hold of Chloe’s hand and pulling her closer. “I promise I’ll come next week.”

“You’d better,” Chloe said. “Because if I have to politely turn down one more guy named Chad, I might lose it.”

[chvoswxtch]

Could I request something for Frank with a s/o who is having mental health struggles? I’m not doing to well as of late and I would love nothing more then Frank taking care of me 💕

Take you’re time, no rush :)

Ps. I love your writing

hi my darling! so sorry this is coming to you so late. I myself have been struggling a bit mentally lately. I hope that you're doing well, and that today is a good day for you angel. ❤️

thank you so much for the request. it was actually super therapeutic for me and kinda helped get me out of the funk I was in, so thank you!!

there's not really any warnings for this except swearing & lots of fluff. also i'm not sure if the glitch with dark mode has been fixed or not but if you're on dark mode, you may have trouble viewing this. I apologize for any inconvenience reading in advance! word count: 2.3k

let me help.

Frank Castle had always been good at reading people. During his time in the marines, he perfected this skill and learned to pick up on certain cues and read body language to anticipate what someone might be thinking or feeling, which gave him a huge advantage when it came to combat. It also helped him out quite a bit when he became a father since he was usually able to figure out what kind of shenanigans his kids were about to get into before they had a chance to actually get into trouble. But lately, it helped him out the most when it came to you. 

You and Frank were total opposites when it came to emotions. While he hid everything until you could coax it out of him, you were a lot more open about yours, even if you weren’t trying to be. Your face gave you away, every single time. Not only that, but Frank knew you like the back of his hand. He could always read you, even when you were trying to hide and put on a brave face. A few months into your relationship, Frank had finally gotten you to confess about your mental health struggles to him. He had been picking up on little things; small changes in your demeanor, subtle shifts in your moods, and even the tone of your voice when it was off. He didn’t want to push you if you weren’t comfortable, but it also killed him to know something was bothering you and you were afraid to let him help. 

Ever since then, Frank was extra vigilant when it came to you. He had learned what helped when you got into a bad headspace, and what he could do to make it better. He figured out what you needed from him, even if you were having trouble communicating it. He discovered that sometimes you wanted a distraction, and sometimes you just wanted to be held and comforted. Sometimes you tried to put the noise in your head into comprehensible sentences, and sometimes you preferred the soothing timber of his voice as he read to you or told you a story from his previous life. Sometimes Frank could convince you to go for a walk on a pretty trail he’d found, and you’d walk side by side silently as he held your hand gently.

“Somethin’ about sunshine “curin” the blues. Some shit Curt told me, I don’t know. Said it might help.”

Frank had actually reached out to Curt on several occasions about you, since his experience with his group made him the closest thing to a professional he could find. Through learning how to care for you, Frank actually started to figure out how to care for himself. He started to figure out what worked for him when things got heavy, and how to process his own struggles. After a while, Frank even got comfortable letting you care for him like he did for you when things got bad. It was a learning curve the two of you were navigating together, with the occasional help from Curtis, and it only made your relationship that much stronger. There was an immense comfort in the peace you two found in each other. Anytime that peace was disrupted, Frank picked up on it immediately, sometimes before you even did.

He knew today was an off day the second he walked through the door. Your voice was quieter as you greeted him, sounding almost exhausted, and you hugged onto his large frame tighter than you normally did. Frank let you linger in his embrace, cradling the back of your head as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. He studied you quietly when you took a step back, trying to figure out what it was you needed from him right now. He could tell by the tight smile on your lips you weren’t going to bring it up. Maybe you hadn’t even noticed it yet. Or maybe you were trying to avoid it. Whatever the reason, he didn’t want to push you if you didn’t feel like talking.

“Think I need a hot shower. Wanna join me?”

The eager nod of your head caused a tiny smile to spread on Frank’s mouth as he held his hand out for yours.

“Alright then, pretty girl. C’mon.”

Steam filled the bathroom as Frank turned the knob as far to the side as it would go. Your reflections were indiscernible as the mirrors fogged up, only able to catch the briefest glimpse of your own silhouettes. Frank was quiet as he undressed you, keeping his touch gentle and soft. A flush had already started to spread over your face from the heat. Frank carefully helped you into the shower, giving your hand a light squeeze and offering a smile when he noticed the confusion on your features.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Be there in a minute.”

Once Frank had rid himself of his own clothes, he stepped in behind you silently. Your eyes were closed as you tipped your head back underneath the showerhead, allowing the warmth of the water to wash over you completely. It echoed off the tiles like a steady summer rain, and even he found the sound soothing. Frank gave you a moment to try and let the water wash away whatever it was you were trying to rid yourself of, only joining you under the stream when you opened your eyes and reached for him.

An aroma of lavender and vanilla filled his senses as he poured your body wash into his hands, beginning to massage it over your shoulders first and then down each of your arms. He took his time as he cleansed you, kneeling down as the suds traveled down your thighs and over your feet. He made sure every inch of your skin had been caressed by his fingertips before rinsing you off. Frank gently grabbed your wrist to halt your movements when you reached for his body wash, giving a light shake of his head and a timid smile.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

“Frank-”

“Just let me help, baby.”

Frank silenced any further protest as his lips descended on yours. He wrapped one arm around your waist to hold you against his chest as his free hand lightly massaged your green apple scented shampoo into your hair. He gently scratched at your scalp with his blunt nails, smiling as your eyes fell shut and a satisfied hum vibrated from your lips against his skin. The longer he worked his fingers in your hair, the more you melted into his embrace. Frank carefully grasped your chin between his thumb and index finger to tip your head back, turning your head to the sides ever so slightly to make sure all the shampoo got washed out fully. After repeating the same process with your conditioner, he reached behind you to shut the water off and wrapped you up in a fluffy towel.

“Let’s get you comfy, shortcake. You want shorts or somethin’? Or just a shirt?”

“Just a shirt, please. Can I wear one of yours?”

Frank chuckled lightly as he wrapped a towel around his waist, holding onto your hand as he helped you out of the shower and led you back to the bedroom.

“Course you can. Don’t gotta ask, baby.”

Frank grabbed your favorite lavender scented body lotion from the cabinet, knowing how much it bothered you that your skin felt too dry after a scalding hot shower. He helped you dry off and slipped on a pair of briefs before motioning towards the bed and pouring some lotion into his hands.

“Lay back for me.”

Your eyes followed Frank’s hands as he moved them over every part of your body while he massaged the lotion deep into your skin. There was a slight furrow of his brows, as there always was when he was concentrating on something. But everytime he caught your gaze, his permanent broody features morphed into a tender smile, and it made you weak. After slipping one of his large shirts over your head and your favorite pair of fuzzy socks onto your feet, Frank scooped you up into his arms and sat back against the headboard with you in his lap. He rested his chin on top of your head as you snuggled into his chest, running his fingers through your wet hair slowly.

The two of you stayed like that silently for a few minutes before Frank heard your deep exhale.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t gotta thank me. You know that.”

“And you know that I’m going to.”

Frank couldn’t help but grin, shaking his head slowly as he held you even tighter to his chest.

“How you feelin’? Better?”

“Much.”

“This one hit fast, huh? Seemed like you were in higher spirits when I left earlier.”

“Yeah, it did.”

Frank glanced down at you, cupping your face in his large hand to get you to look at him. He studied you for a moment, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone softly.

“Somethin’ happen?”

“No…nothing happened. I-I don’t know. I felt okay this morning and then I just…didn’t.”

“S’alright, honey. Just checkin’.”

Another defeated exhale caused your shoulders to shrink. Frank leaned in to brush his nose against yours, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Hey, it ain’t your fault. You know that.”

“I know-”

“And there’s nothin’ wrong with you. So don’t go thinkin’ that shit. It happens to everyone, baby.”

“Not like this. Not everyone deals with this.”

“I know, but it’s outta your control.”

“And that’s what I hate. I hate not feeling in control of my own body, my own head. I know what’s happening, and I can’t do anything about it. I just…have to wait for it to pass.”

“You don’t gotta do it alone.”

Frank sighed quietly as he sat up a little straighter, turning your body so that you were straddling his waist as he held your face in both of his large hands.

“Baby, I love you. Alright? I’m here. I ain’t goin’ nowhere, no matter what. When this happens, we get through it together, yeah? We always get through it, don’t we?”

You leaned into Frank’s touch, wrapping your hands delicately around his wrists as you stared deeply into his eyes and nodded. 

“Yeah, we do.”

“I’d say we’re doin’ pretty fuckin’ good, all things considered.”

A small giggle escaped your lips, and you couldn’t help but mirror the smile that spread over Frank’s mouth.

“Who knew Frank Castle would make such a good therapist?”

“Easy now, don’t go broadcastin’. I ain’t acceptin’ any new patients. I got my hands full.”

“Oh, do you?”

Frank’s lips split even further as a toothy grin took over his mouth, reaching behind you to grab your ass with both of his large hands, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Yeah, see?”

Your eyes widened as your mouth fell open, lightly slapping at his chest as you burst into a fit of giggles at his actions.

“Frank!”

“What? Made ya laugh, didn’t it?”

“Is this what Curtis is teaching you?”

“Nah, I decided to improvise on that one.”

All you could do was shake your head as you giggled loudly. It was nearly impossible not to smile when you were around Frank, but it was even harder when he was smiling. Frank had such a beautiful smile, and it always caused one to appear on your lips. It could light up the midnight sky, and oftentimes it chased the darkness away within you. His laughter bellowed from deep within his chest, and it spread a warmth throughout you as it enveloped you like a security blanket. Frank tilted his head to the side slightly as he gazed at you lovingly, bringing one of your hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of your hand.

“Hey, you and me. Yeah?”

You couldn’t help but smile as you nodded, leaning in to press your forehead against his.

“Yeah. You and me.”

“Atta girl. Now, how ‘bout I order some Lombardi’s and you pick us a movie.”

“You’re letting me pick? Anything I want? Like…anything?”

Frank’s eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the excitement in your eyes and the grin on your mouth.

“Do I need to reiterate that I’m gettin’ you the best goddamn pizza in all of New York so you don’t torture me?”

“Now Frank, when have I ever tortured you?”

Frank arched one of his dark brows in question as a smirk curled at the side of your mouth.

“You want me to answer that honestly?”

“If anyone tortures anyone around here, it’s you.”

“Me? What the hell-”

You giggled as you pressed a finger to Frank’s mouth, leaning in to kiss his nose gently.

“Relax. I won’t torture you, I promise.”

Frank glared at you insincerely as your grin spread across your cheeks, letting out a deep exhale as he let his head fall back against the headboard.

“It’s gonna be a fuckin’ musical, ain’t it.”

“It’s not…technically a musical.”

“For fucks sake.”

“You promised you’d watch Moana with me months ago!”

“Alright, alright. Fine. Go put the damn thing on.”

As you queued up the movie and waited for Frank on the couch, you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling when you heard him grumbling to himself in the kitchen. His fingers aggressively tapped on his phone’s screen as he dialed the number to Lombardi’s, muttering a few swears and an exasperated fuckin’ Disney before placing your order. As he took his seat beside you on the couch, you grabbed his face and kissed him deeply, pulling away slowly with a soft smile.

“Thank you, Frankie. I love you.”

“I love you, shortcake. Always.”

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

Hey, Amee!! I hope you’re doing well <3

If by any chance you’re up to it, could you please write a fic about Heist Mark being super jealous of Yancy because he and Y/N clearly seem to be into each other?? I LOVE your art and writings and I couldn’t get this idea out of my head <3 (Obviously no pressure, though!)

I'm so happy to hear you enjoy my work, thank you🥺💖 and thank you for your request! it got me out of a terrible writer's block. on that note, sorry this took quite some time, I've been in a bit of a funk of on and off general creative block, and unable to finish any writing at all for even longer. this was a pretty fun challenge! I myself view Yancy platonically so I wasn't quite sure where to go with this initially, and I had to fight every urge to just make this heist mark x y/n dfsjsjsv. that said, it did end up being more heist mark-centric than maybe you intended? in which case, I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself😔 yancy is there but very briefly haha

Don't you tell me that you never even thought, 'maybe we could run'

2,603 words | Read on AO3

‘We're all gonna be rehearsing tomorrow so youse best get some sleep.’

You nod as you close the gate to yours and Mark's shared cell, stifling a yawn.

‘Goodnight, Yancy.’

You hold each other's gaze for a moment, before he turns and heads off, a tattooed hand over the back of his neck and a sweet smile still on his face. You watch as he disappears into the outer hallway and a guard appears to lock up your cell for the evening.

Your long-time accomplice and friend stands at the edge of your vision, arms folded.

‘Having fun with your new boyfriend, buddy?’ he asks, sounding unimpressed and slightly strained.

‘Oh, shush, Mark,’ you chide, but your stomach flips at the notion.

‘Yeah… Well, while you were busy playing Broadway,’ he glances to either side of the cell outside and continues in a lowered voice, ‘I've been hard at work hatching our escape. And I'm telling you, it's foolproof.’

‘Uh huh. As foolproof as your other three failed plans? I really don't wanna get thrown in solitary again.’

‘Please, that was one time! — and I don't see you bothering to come up with any ideas. Even though you pretty much got us into this mess.’

That accusation ticks you off, but you're quick to retaliate.

‘Are you seriously still hung up on that? How is this my fault? You couldn't fly a helicopter, why would you assume I can? You shouldn't have even presented it as an option!’

Your exclamation earns you a couple looks from other inmates slowly filing into their cells for the night.

‘Nevermind that now,’ Mark says, infuriatingly placatingly, ‘do you wanna hear the plan or not?’

The thread of uncertainty that you've been avoiding coils tight in your chest and you pause, wondering how to bring up what's been nagging at you for days.

‘Um, so, I've been thinking. What if… what if we don't try to escape?’

‘Ha ha. Funny joke, pal.’

‘I'm serious, Mark. We could just… stay here and wait out our sentence, if we play it safe we might even get our time reduced on good behaviour. We could be gone in like a decade. Or a few years! Maybe. Probably. Maybe.’ Wishful thinking, perhaps.

He scoffs, as if the idea isn't even worth considering.

‘There is no way you're genuinely telling me to just wait it out. Maybe you haven't noticed since you've been in la-la land lately, but we're not on vacation, we're in prison,’ Mark spouts, voice growing thick with agitation. ‘What was supposed to be the heist of a lifetime, would've set us up for decades to come, is still on the line! And we're on a bit of a time crunch here — I don't trust that warden guy one bit with the Box, or in general,’ he sneers. ‘I mean what kind of name is Murder-Slaughter? Ugh, do we even know for sure if he still has it?’

‘Yancy mentioned seeing it in his office the last time he was there, which was earlier today, so yeah, probably.’

‘Ugh, there you go again about Yancy. It's always Yancy this, Yancy that, blah blah blah, Yancy!’

‘Wh– I was just answering your question!’

‘Y'know what? I'm sick and tired of being the only one taking this seriously while you act like it's all a big party.’

He places a hand on his hip, the other poking a finger towards you as he speaks. It would be comical, if he wasn't acting like a jerk.

‘What's up with you?’

‘What's up with me? What's up with you? You seriously wanna stay in this— this shithole, ‘cause of what? Some pretty face you've known for all of like, less than two weeks??’

‘Oh my God, Mark, it's not that terrible, and Yancy is actually my friend, he's been nothing but welcoming and kind since we got here, and—’

‘Oh, did you forget that he tried to beat you up when you first met? Real interesting, how you let that little detail slip.’

‘We just got off on the wrong foot, he's really—’

It's then that you see it — something in the slight hunch in his gait, the furrow of his brow, his pursed lips and tense jaw — and you wonder why you hadn't noticed before. It's not just anger and frustration, it's something bitter and personal.

‘Mark… are you jealous?’

Bingo. His eyes only widen a sliver, for a fraction of a second, but you're so used to reading him that even the most imperceptible of reactions on his usually very expressive face have become familiar to you.

‘Psh. I'm not jealous.’

‘You so are jealous! Oh my god, you're super duper jealous,’ you say with a grin, revelling in this new information.

‘Shut up, why would I be jealous?’ he protests, trying to sound nonchalant. But it's too late. You've already seen through it.

‘Is that what this is about?’ you say with a laugh. ‘You just want my attention back or something?’

He stares blankly for a moment.

‘Are you serious right now? You actually think the only reason I'm mad is because some random dude just waltzes in and starts acting all buddy buddy with you and you fall head-over-heels,’ he jeers with his hands either side of his face, fluttering his eyelashes mockingly. ‘Hook, line and sinker.’

‘Mark—’

‘I mean, never mind your partner, right? You know, your best friend who you've known and worked with for years? Who cares what he thinks?!’

‘Mark, I—’

‘In fact, he can get punched through a wall for all you care! You won't even bat an eye, as long as there's a random spontaneous musical number immediately afterwards, it's all in good fun!’

‘Ok, that's not fair,’ you push back. ‘Of course I was worried! But I was also surrounded by violent criminals at the time, we've been over this!’

‘Oh, so they're “violent criminals” now? But they're simply “hurt, misunderstood souls” when it suits you?!’ he shoots back, making air quotes to emphasise his point.

‘They're people, Mark! They're allowed to be… multi-faceted!’

‘Lights out, everybody,’ comes a guard's voice, ringing through the hallway as it suddenly becomes dark, save for the glow of dim lamplight emanating from one or two of the other cells.

‘Whatever, let's just get some sleep,’ Mark grumbles under his breath.

‘You always do this!’ you whisper harshly, but inadvertently let the volume slip back into your voice as you feel your blood boil. ‘You try to cut things off and act like the “bigger person” just to get out of an argument that, newsflash, YOU'RE LOSING.’

‘Oh, whatever, what-f*cking-ever!’

‘You're being so damn overdramatic, Mark! It's not like I'm trying to break up our team.’

‘Yeah, well– well maybe we should!’

You don't know why it jolts you like a gunshot when he says it, but it does. His words, the force and resentment behind them, pierce you to your core. It stops any quick-fire response you had at the ready in its tracks.

Regret immediately flashes across his face, but he quickly attempts to cover it with a steely, hardened gaze. ‘Clearly, we want different things. So maybe it's for the best.’

‘Hey!’ one of the guards calls out from across the hall. ‘Lights out means quiet, you two. Don't make us separate you into different cells.’

With a frustrated huff, you reluctantly traipse off to bed, yours being the lower half of the bunk while Mark settles above you.

It really is a rather decent bed. The mattress is nothing special, but comfortable, and the soft blanket is accompanied by an oddly luxurious, fluffy pillow. Definitely above what you'd expect is probably average prison standards. Frankly, you don't know what Mark's problem is with this place. It's honestly not half bad. As far as you expect jails go, it surely could be a lot worse.

You lay back and let your breathing even out, trying your best to allow some of the bubbling anger to die down. Eventually, you hear the guards leave.

Time passes, it could be minutes or hours; it's not like the passage of time has felt right at all to you since that last heist.

It's silent, save for the sound of your breaths and Mark's above you. You're still upset with him, but the sound of him breathing nearby has always been oddly comforting. The two of you have had plenty of close calls as a pair — even times when you had to patch each other up after jobs that went particularly badly. If you got injured on a heist, you couldn't simply call an ambulance or show up at a hospital in an emergency and risk having your whole operation blown. That was simply the nature of your line of work.

At the worst of times, as long as you could hear those steady, even breaths, you could tell yourself he would pull through, and things would be fine.

You idly watch the mattress above you, letting the rhythm of your friend's breathing become a gentle white noise, and think.

You think about that heist and the Box. Ancient, coveted, mysterious. Sitting atop its perch in the museum vault, in all its glory and allure, practically asking to be stolen. The gleam of the gem encrusted in its surface. You wonder if the prize held within would be worth all of this, if you managed to get it back.

You think about Yancy, a little rough and a little troubled and not seeing much point in trying to kick old habits; but fun and soft and sensitive and full of remorse. You think about the feeling of your hand in his when you practise a routine with him, how his whole face lights up when he's excited or falls when he's sad or pensive. You think about how he has made this penitentiary into a home, and these inmates into a family.

You think about Mark. Silly, stupid, steadfast Mark, snarky and thoughtful and loyal. Who isn't actually as dumb as he lets on. Who is resourceful and quick-thinking when a plan needs to be formed. Who makes bad puns and trusts you whole-heartedly, and who always lets you decide which course of action to take, no matter how much he disagrees, simply due to his unwavering faith in you. Mark, your co-worker, your friend, your partner in crime. Who is maybe a little enamoured with you, despite you trying to ignore it. Who you half-heartedly agreed to go on a date with, not having it in you to turn him down, nor prepared for the guilt that would be eating away at you now.

You think about one of the first things he told you when you landed yourselves at Happy Trails: About how he doesn't belong here, but maybe you do. What if he were to leave and you were to stay? The thought breaks your heart a little.

Then, a whisper from above into the quiet, gently interrupting your thoughts.

‘Hey, you still awake?’

‘...Yeah.’

You hear his voice, soft-spoken, but clear enough that you can hear the sincerity laced into it.

‘I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so worked up.’

‘Yeah, I'm sorry too,’ you reply, matching his volume.

‘And I didn't mean it,’ he says, and you think you hear the slightest tremble in the statement, almost as if he's fighting tears, and for a second you wish you could see his face, ‘what I said before, about uh, splitting up. I know I joke about that kind of thing all the time, and not coming back for you… But you know I don't really mean it, right?’

You've certainly had your doubts in the past, but those moments seem so far away now; footnotes in a slowly unfolding tale, stepping stones on the journey the pair of you have taken together as you worked your way from theft to theft to get to this point. As much as you'd butt heads over the years, you could always count on each other and you always stuck together.

‘Right?’

‘Yeah, I know…’

‘...And, alright, your lack of interest in breaking out aside, maybe I am kinda jealous.’

‘Ha! I knew it.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He sighs. ‘It's just… it took us a while to be like we are now and yet, you're suddenly so close to him when it hasn't even been that long, it just doesn't feel fair. I dunno, it's stupid.’

‘Nah, I get it. I'm sorry if I made you feel left behind.

‘And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel pressured into something you're actually just not all that into.’

You feel a bit of tension leave your chest as a small smile appears on your face. ‘I appreciate that.’

In some ways you're grateful for the small bed separating you and preventing you from being face to face. You think it makes this easier for both of you.

‘I don't want to lose you, y'know? I mean, we're supposed to be partners. Ride or die, remember?’

‘Oh, Mark… You know I still trust you with my life…’ You pause, considering your words. ‘For the first time in ages, things feel a little more complicated than just being about us.’

A beat, then you hear him inhale, and he says your name, foregoing any of his usual nicknames.

‘...Are you… happy here? Does he make you happy?’

‘There's things I miss about freedom, sure, but it's not so bad here. And let's face it, our crimes were probably gonna catch up to us eventually, one way or another, right? And Yancy…’ You let out the smallest huff of laughter, smiling to yourself once again. ‘You're right, it hasn't been very long… There's just something about him, I guess. I know he might be a little much at times but I enjoy being around him, and he honestly seems like he wants to make up for things he's done in the past by being here. Maybe nothing will come of this but even so, in a weird way, he kind of makes me want to do better?’

Mark breathes a good-natured huff of laughter as well, and the two of you take a moment to muse on the irony of that sentiment.

‘I just– I can't handle being stuck here,’ he finally says. ‘But you're right, nothing I've tried so far has worked, anyway.’

‘Y'know… Yancy knows all the ins and outs of this place. He could probably help us if we wanted it.’

‘Do you want it?’

Do you want to leave or stay? The real question beneath it all.

You're quiet again, and it feels as if every possibility is laid out before you, only obscured.

‘I don't know,’ you say eventually. ‘I need more time to think. I just don't want you to think I'm making a choice between you or him, there's so many other things I need to consider. That we need to consider.’

‘That's fair… Just don't take too long, ok? Not like we can pause or rewind time, haha.’

‘Right… In the meantime, could you at least try to get along with Yancy and the others? You might like them if you give them a chance.’

‘... Fine, I'll try,’ he acquiesces.

You raise a hand to your mouth to cover a yawn. A far more comfortable silence falls over the room, and you start to feel sleep overtake you.

‘... Hey, Mark?’

‘Yeah?’

‘We're still partners.’

If nothing else, you hope this will reassure him.

‘...Ok. Sweet dreams, partner.’

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 8

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental (and depressed) millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve.

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3

trigger warning for unwanted touching

chapter 8: royally screwed

Steve furiously swatted Eddie’s hand from his shoulder. “Don’t poke the grizzly. Your rule, remember?” He really wanted another puff of his inhaler. He wanted to punch somebody almost as much. “I agreed to it, and you chose to break it. I didn’t… Never d-did have any choice in…” He’d have screamed if he’d been able. Instead, he whispered, “Get lost.”

 “No, Steve.” Eddie’s eyes grew stupid huge. “I’m not gonna run away from this.”

“Jesus, you’re full of shit! Go back to bed, okay? Go!” Steve flipped his hand, drew a shaky breath. “What’s gonna get you out of this new funk? You wanna fuck me? Knock yourself out! Rough as you like, Dungeon Master… I… I…”

“Say whut? All I want is… Shit, I dunno. Can’t you quit your job?”  

“To be your kept boy? Stop bullshitting me.” Steve gripped the edge of the bath and levered himself up. Naturally, Eddie tried to help him. Steve wrenched free. “Gimme space. Fuck! I’m not gonna break.”

Finally, Eddie backed off. “Okay. Message received, loud and clear, dude. Maybe we need a break.”

Steve clung to the bath. His chest burned, his knees shook, and the humiliation of it all… It sucked, sucked, SUCKED. Eddie turned and walked away, and his cold shoulder broke Steve.

Steve gathered up his scattered stuff, slunk toward the door. Eddie scuttled after, touched Steve’s hip then snatched away. “Listen to me, Steve—”

“It’s okay.” Steve conjured a thin smile. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I appreciate that you wanna help. It’s just… I can’t…” Christ, I can’t even start to explain. I guess pity is my hard limit, after… after… He stared at his bare toes. His stomach remained clenched like a fist, and he was still worried he was gonna hurl. “I’ll see you around,” he whispered.

Steve spent the rest of the night curled in the linen closet, wheezing on the dust and detergent. Of course, it stuck in his throat way worse than usual. He was so fucking angry. Not particularly with Eddie, but with life, and sure as heck with himself. 

Way to go, Harrington. The best thing that’s happened to you in years, and YOU SCREW THE DAMN THING UP.

Eddie had gotten an eyeful of the real Steve Harrington. The brat who sulked when his parents headed off on that vacation, because they’d given him a BMW for his birthday and not a Camaro.

Okay, he wasn’t always such a jerk… and even his mom and dad had lied to him. How come they’d splashed cash on hot wheels and jetted off skiing, when there was no money left?

Yeah. They’d lied.

A week after the accident, his parents’ son-of-a-bitch lawyer had sat him down and broke the news that his family owed millions. Worse, at eighteen, Steve was apparently liable for the thousands of dollars deficit in his trust fund and could wind up in jail. 

“Don’t worry, Steve,” that… that… man had said, cupping a ‘fatherly’ hand around the back of Steve’s neck. “I’ll take care of everything. Good-looking boy like you—I can find you a job being your charming self. If you’d care to accompany me this evening, I’m meeting some important clients at the Carlton Ritz.”

Back then, Steve hadn’t a clue about anything. He’d said thank you for the offer, breezily enough, then bit his wobbly lower lip so damn hard. Now, in the linen closet, wretched gasps had him scrambling for his inhaler again.

It’s over. You escaped. Focus on the shitshow you can mop up.

He’d go up to the penthouse later, and he’d apologise to Eddie, and… what would go down then? Would Eddie simply finish his ‘I’m outta here’ speech? Write a check?

Steve was too exhausted to want to punch anything anymore. His heart ached.

He arrived for his breakfast shift bleary-eyed and feeling like death.

“You’re late, Harrington,” said Kline. “Two rounds of brown toast and coffee, table seventeen. English breakfast tea and white toast, one round, table twenty-two. Snap, snap.”

Steve slotted the bread into the conveyor-belt toasting machine. He was yawning his head off, when the burning smell hit him.

“Shiiiiit!”

He fumbled for the tongs, dropped them, grabbed the burning slice. He pounded it out against the table, then coughed into his wrist. Fortunately, nobody had noticed, other than Robin. She deserted her egg pan and dashed over.

“Steve? Are you okay?”

“If you ask me that again, Robin, I swear, I’ll—”

“This is the first time I’ve spoken to you this morning, Dingus!” She gave him a swift once-over. “God, you look terrible.”

“You’re not exactly Jodie Foster yourself, Buckley.” He launched a fresh round of toast.

“It’s that penthouse bum, right? What did he do? What do I have to do to h—”

“He did squat, okay? I decided… Look, scram, will you? You got eggs boiling dry.”

“Oh, fuckety-fuck.”

Having repelled Robin, he piled up his tray and ventured out into the breakfast room. He kept his eyes fixed on the gaudy maroon carpet. He was not in the mood for either winsome conversations with guests or to have them to treat him like scum.

He'd deposited the white toast and tea on a table for one, when a hand landed with a slap on his butt. Steve whirled about, nearly dropping his tray.

“My, my, my,” drawled a plummy English accent. “If I’d realized what was on the menu here at the Yorkshire, I’d have switched from the Carlton Ritz long ago.”

No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t real. This is a nightmare.

Steve wriggled free, and then… He staggered, stared. Flinched away.

Lord Godchester. One of the first of that lawyer’s clients that Steve had been asked to ‘charm.’ One of the regulars and one the worst.

“Daddy is staying in the Garden Suite,” murmured Godchester. “Second best, dammit, but the penthouse is booked out. 8 o’clock, shall we say? A little light supper on room service.”

“I don’t do that anymore.” Steve stared at the carpet, which he now wished would swallow him. “I wait tables at breakfast, deliver luggage, and sometimes work the elevators.”

Why was he justifying himself to this creep?

“Daddy doesn’t want a quickie in the bloody elevator. Daddy wants to play games with his naughty boy.” Godchester’s nasty-ass moustache twitched, and he slithered out a paw to pat Steve’s thigh. “I’ll have a quiet word with your superiors, you cheap little hussy. I trust I’ll see you later.”

Steve walked away and he kept walking. He dumped his tray in the kitchen, dashed to the staff washroom. He barely made it into a cubicle, before he collapsed to his knees and spewed his guts.

…

After Steve had ditched him, Eddie smashed the vase of fake orchids. He was too revved up to go back to sleep. While dawn crept across the penthouse, he kneeled amid the broken china and scribbled furiously.

His self-loathing elevated to such fever-pitch that, crazily, creativity happened. He hurled Tolkein and ye olde worlde history out of the forty-first storey window. Then he shifted Steve’s idea about moving the game into the real world to the front line of battle. He sketched evil fucking monsters with faces that peeled open like evil fucking flowers, revealing fangs dripping with poison.

He scrunched up his hotpant-clad fae warlock and tossed him the garbage. Then he rescued the drawing, straightened it out on the rug.

It was a shitty likeness.

The hair wasn’t far off but the mouth was all wrong. The worst thing about that was, he wasn’t sure how to sketch Steve’s mouth right. Steve’s mouth was special, shapely in that pretty-yet-masculine way, and like some kinda bow. Not a cupid’s bow, but some sort of longbow, he figured. 

Eddie’s repeated attempts to capture Steve better only fucked him up further.

He chewed his pencil, snapped it in half, lit a cigarette, stubbed it out. Crushed his whole packet of Marlboro Lights beneath his slipper-clad foot.

He’d used Steve’s mouth, like he’d used Steve from the start. When he’d shoved his cock between Steve’s lips—heck, when he’d kissed Steve—had Steve been simply wishing it was over? Heck, had he been struggling not to choke?

“Why didn’t you tell me, Stevie?” he muttered. “Right here, right now, I quit smoking, okay? I quit for you.”

Eddie poured himself a shot of vodka, downed it, then poured the rest of the bottle down the sink.

Eventually, he mustered the courage to call Dustin: “Hey,” he croaked, and falteringly revealed the new ideas that Steve had inspired.

“It could work,” said Dustin, circumspect as ever. “Suzie’s gotten some real neat tricks going with the combat moves that’ll totally match up with your flesh-eating triffids. It’s gonna put game production back a bit, so I’ll have to talk to our investors about the cash flow and—”

“Yeeeeah, about that,” interjected Eddie. “Uh, my check bounced this week at the hotel. Can you talk to the bank for me? Pretty please with demon-fangs on? You know I suck at these things.”

A pregnant silence ensued. “All right,” said Dustin. “Seeing as you’re finally getting your ass into gear, and on one condition. You gotta introduce me to your date. It’s been what? Several weeks? Isn’t that a record for you?”

“He’s a hooker.”

Eddie couldn’t believe he’d blurted it out like that.

“Oh! Can I just get my head around this—you’ve fallen in love with a hooker?”

“I didn’t say that. He’s just some guy, okay?”

A hooker.

Just some guy.

By the time Eddie hung up, he detested himself more than ever. He cared about Steve. A lot. Too much, perhaps. He wanted to apologise, desperately, though he wasn’t even quite sure what he was apologising for. Telling Dustin that Steve was a hooker? That felt like a low blow, although Steve didn’t know what he’d said.

He IS a hooker. You’ve been paying him. Earlier, he was stripped bare, not turning tricks anymore… and he told you to get lost. What’s the point of quitting smoking, if you’re never gonna see him again?

Eddie refused that, too. Maybe because accepting how everything between them was phoney hurt most of all.

He stared at the phone again, chewed his nails. Crap, he didn’t even have a number to contact Steve. Maybe he should call reception and ask to be put through to wherever Steve was working?

Or you could pull off the unthinkable, Munson. Break free of this hellhole, mosey on out into the hotel, and find him.

Eddie got dressed. Proper dressed for the first time in weeks, in an overlarge Red Hot Chilli Peppers t-shirt and a pair of jeans baggy enough to be Hammer pants. Then he unlocked his doors. Opened them. Peeped out at the empty foyer. Closed the doors again.

The phone rang. He was so jittery that he squealed like a piggy before scrambling to answer.

“Eddieeeeee,” Dustin yelled down the line. “There’s more noughts at the end of your overdraft than in Suzie’s sexiest lines of code!”

“English, Henderson.” Eddie’s palms were so sweaty, he nearly dropped the handset.

“You’re broke, Eddie. You’ve spent every dime you ever earned and then some. I’ll bail you out this once but you’re checking out of the Getty’s vacation timeshare today. You can crash with Suzie and I.”

“I can’t!” Eddie’s hand not holding the phone flailed everywhere. “I got agoraphobia, man. You gotta cut me some slack.”

“No way,” said Dustin, the merciless little bastard that he was. “Suzie will go mad if I have to channel funds away from her charitable trusts. You know—the soup kitchens? The donkey sanctuary? So, you’re gonna tough it out like a man and haul ass NOW.”

...

Part 9 on AO3 Part 9 on tumblr

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[forthereaderinserts]

here it is

the writing

sorry if this is garbage lol I have smiling friends brain rot

tw for bad mental health

~|~|~

Your first meeting with the 'Smiling Friends' didn't go exactly as planned. When you had contacted them, you had been in one of the worst mental health spots of your life. This silly-sounding company was your last hope.

When they finally showed up at your doorstep, they were greeted by the stench of depression and old takeout, as well as your ragged form dressed in dirty clothes and sporting ratty hair.

Holding back a cringe at the smell that wafted out the wide open door, Pim put on a brilliant smile and introduced himself and his companion, Charlie. He was slower to suppress his reaction, causing you to blush in embarrassment.

"Hello! My name is Pim and this is my good friend Charlie. We heard you weren't feeling to good, so we're here to put a smile on that lovely face of yours!"

There was a pause in the conversation as he waited for your response, but the sheer force of his unbridled positivity had sent you into a spiral. Charlie, noticing your subtle yet labored breathing and the slight shake you had taken on, was quick to set a new pace.

"Uhm- Hey, why don't we come inside. Talking in the doorway is a little weird, huh?"

That snapped you out of your mental funk, ushering them in with small 'sorry's'. You nudge aside some trash in a feeble attempt to clear a path to your couch. The whole time, the two critters were accessing the situation and coming up with a plan to help you get into a better place.

Once everyone was able to sit down, Pim picked up where he left off, making sure to keep his enthusiasm low.

"So, it looks like you've been a bit depressed lately. I think I know exactly how to help!"

Charlie carried the flow, "We're gonna start by picking up some of the junk. A lot of studies say that your environment plays a big part in your mental health."

Nervousness clawed at your soul, trying to get a solid grip to sink it's teeth down and send you into a full panic. The thought of cleaning was so anxiety inducing and exhausting. It's not like you hadn't tried, but it usually ended with you crying and nothing getting done. You didn't notice but tears had started pricking at your eyes, trailing down your cheeks like hot lava.

When it was clear that you weren't responding anymore, Pim turned to Charlie and tried to figure out how they could turn this disaster of a job around. They decided that Pim would start by gathering up trash and spoiled food into the bin while Charlie sat with you and got you to calm down.

Nodding firmly at each other, they got to work. Charlie moved his chair closer to you and slowly grabbed your hands, stopping you from picking at your cuticles. Your head shot up and you locked eyes with the yellow man. Looking back down at your touching hands, your eyes flickered between that and his face. This might have been the first time you've felt physical contact, let alone comfort, in months.

As soon as he could tell you weren't on the verge, Charlie started to talk softly to you. About nothing important, just some posts he'd seen on the internet, what he'd eaten today, and his opinions on whatever he could think of. His main goal was to distract you while Pim cleaned enough so that it wasn't too overwhelming. He has even piped up a couple times to joke with his friend.

By the end of the day, the living room and adjacent hallway were livable and you were in a much better mood. Technically, you had smiled far earlier into the session, but Charlie and Pim were having such a good time just chatting and tidying that they kept working. This was one of their easiest jobs so far. No guns, no heartbreak, no death. Just talking and cleaning.

When it came time for the two of them to leave, you were disappointed. This was the happiest you'd been in such a long time. They knew that too, so before they walked out the door, they turned to you and offered their numbers. When you looked confused, they explained that they felt you weren't quite ready for normal life again, no offense. They wanted to get you set up with a therapist they had contacts with and maybe even start some medication.

At their words, you teared up again, but this time there was a giant smile stretching your mouth. Surprising the critters, you pulled them into a tight hug and whispered a gentle 'thank you'. This was the best day of your life, you think.

~|~|~

sorry the ending is so rushed I just wanted to get something out lol

[bunniekittiee]

Liu Kang’s Guidance

A/N: This is a bit more of a serious one. It’s not an x reader. This is a vent piece. And something that maybe others are dealing with too. Sorry for the heaviness, I’m writing about what I’m feeling currently

Content Warning: Depression, suicidal thoughts(?), questioning life, purpose

The waterfall splashing did not ease the anxieties nor the sadness. But it filled your mind. Enough to stop the buzzing around in it. Yet it did not bring peace like it should.

Footsteps approached, but you knew whose they were. They were very familiar. Soft, yet purposeful footsteps.

“Hey,” Liu said, taking a seat next to you. “I have been looking for you.”

“Have you?” You asked him, eyes not leaving the waterfall. Birds chirped around you both, filling the air with their songs. The trees loomed over you both. “I am sorry for wasting your time.”

“My time will never be wasted with you.” He replied with a small smile. But he knew your mind was not in this world. “What is going through your mind?”

There was a lot. A lot that needed to come out, yet you did not want him to carry your burdens. You did not like to burden others, otherwise you would have talked to Raiden or Kenshi about what was going on. “Don’t worry too much, it’s okay.”

Liu frowned. “You can tell me anything. I am here to listen to you. Especially if it will ease your mind.”

“You have a lot on your plate. You don’t need my stresses too.” You told him as you started to pull your legs close to your body. It was a way of keeping you safe. Keeping it all inside.

“If it will help you from losing yourself to the darkness of your mind, then I will share your burdens. Now, tell me. I am listening.” He said, patiently waiting for your answer.

You sighed. “Lately I have felt out of touch with myself. For the past year, I have felt like a walking zombie. I can function, but I can’t function how I would like to. Everything feels like I’m watching myself from an outsider’s point of view. Like in third person.” You explained to him. Liu Kang understood what you were saying. He too had felt like that before. “I can hardly recall memories because in those memories, it was like I was outside of my body.”

“My anxiety has worsened. It seemingly comes on out of nowhere in more recent times. And I never used to get anxiety.” You said quietly. “I’m always so tired. I get so tired during the day, to the point I can hardly keep my eyes open, but at night I can’t sleep. And when I do sleep, I can’t sleep completely without waking up a few times during the night.”

“Have you been drinking caffeine?” Liu asked.

You shook your head. “No, I cut caffeine out of my diet for the most part. Sometimes I’ll have some, but it is usually earlier in the day where it won’t affect my sleep.”

You reviewed what you had already told him in your head. He could see the gears were turning in your head. He waited for you to continue.

“I always seem happy to everyone else, but really, I am unhappy. I feel like…” You felt the lump in your throat form. “I feel like I don’t know my purpose. Or maybe, I don’t have a purpose. I haven’t fulfilled much in my life. I feel like I’ll never be able to do it. I’ll always be stuck where I’m at.”

The tears started to brim. You didn’t want to cry, but it was difficult. “I always feel like crying. I feel like crying about everything. But I always stop myself from doing so. But sometimes I get so overwhelmed. I feel like I carry so much stress, but I can’t let it go. Or I can’t get rid of it.” A few tears started to fall. He watched with a tinge of sadness. “I feel so sad. I always feel sad. Sometimes I do have good days. And those good days are really good. But a lot of the time, I am sad. Or I am in a funk. Sometimes, I lay in bed for hours because I am unable to find the energy to get up.”

Liu put his hand on your shoulder, making the tears worsen. Your bottom lip began to tremble, but you continued on. “I keep everything to myself and I just have no place to put it at. Or let it go. I feel on edge a lot of the time. My thoughts give me anxiety. They will keep me up at night or they will make me physically ill. I get random body aches that I can never explain. And they hurt a lot.” You tried wiping away your tears, but only more appeared.

“I am lonely. I am lonely in my heart and in my head. To me, all I have is myself. I don’t like to burden others because I feel like they have been through worse. Or my pain can’t compare to theirs because theirs is bad.” You swallowed the thickening of the saliva in your throat. It was like the dam had broken. Everything was flooding out. You sniffled.

“I’m not suicidal. It has crossed my mind in the past. But not as of recently. But sometimes, I think about what if I didn’t wake up tomorrow. What if it all ended tomorrow? I wouldn’t have to battle what is going on in my head anymore. I would find the peace that I have always craved. Yet I don’t beg for death.” You continued to wipe away the tears with your hand. Liu got a tissue out of a pocket and gently wiped at your face with it. It was a comforting gesture.

“I guess I’m in limbo. I’m alive, but I haven’t been living, you know?” You looked at him with red eyes and a small, sad smile. “I don’t know what I’m waiting for. I want to be better. I want to feel like a person again. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

Liu had a solemn expression on his face. He did not know how much you, his friend, was hurting. You had masked it very well.

“I’ve felt like this for so long where I feel like I should be used to it. But it’s just gotten worse. I haven’t gotten the help I need to deal with it. I’ve just been trying to deal with it in my own ways but they have all been bad. I’m always so angry or annoyed. But now, since I’ve let that stop controlling me, all I can do with my depression is just nothing. It’s sitting here eating me alive. I don’t know where and when this started. I can hardly remember.” Your eyes were beginning to puff up and the headache was forming.

“I feel like I shouldn’t be depressed. I have a good home, my family is great, things are good. Yet here I am.” You laughed, but nothing was funny. It was out of sadness. You turned your tear-stained face away from Liu Kang. “I just wish I could feel better.”

“Perhaps a hug may ease something?” Liu offered. You nodded your head, wrapping your arms around him as he did to you. Hugging a person made everything come out. The tears started to come rapidly, your body shook with sobs. Liu hugged you tighter, feeling your emotions flood out of your body. If this would help you, he would do it for all of eternity.

And he was right. A hug did ease something. It made you feel a little less alone.

“As the Protector of Earthrealm and being a creator of a timeline, I understand your loneliness and the feeling of lacking in purpose. I assure you, you are very purposeful. Everyone plays their part in their life. Just like in this timeline, everyone plays their part that they need to. They fill their purpose.” He explained as you pulled away from him, wiping away your tears and snot. “And you, you have your purpose. It is your duty to understand and know what it is. And it may not come right away, but I promise you it will.”

You nodded your head. “I guess so. I just need to push myself more and try to fix what I can. I just might need an extra push, you know?”

“And that is what we are here for. We are all here for you. No matter the circumstances. No matter what your mind says.” Liu replied as you both faced the waterfall. He placed his hand on your shoulder again. “We will always be here. You are never alone. You will never have to feel alone.”

[fuctacles]

WIP TITLE GAME

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips.

Thanks @yesdangerpls for the tag. I was planning to do a wip wednesday bc I've been in a bit of a funk after finishing the bang fic so I'll treat this as an opportunity to write 😅

I'm limiting myself to the 4thewords wips bc I'm not touching the google docs pit with a ten foot pole.

stevieween 2

Just help me cum

single dad steve

brainworms

late bloomers two

bad stobin

milf 6

artur

sharing is caring

stevie week weddingg

stevie week girls night

Stevie week 2 suck

H5

?xfiles

Divine inspiration

You can send asks with just the numbers :)

Tags (sorry if you've already been tagged): @pumpkinspiceeddie @formosusiniquis @kallisto-k @penny00dreadful @emchant3d

@steddie-island @doublecherrypiediscosuperfly @wormdebut @trensu @eddiethebrave

[simpingandshitposting]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

Two ppl actually tagged me in this so thank you @malewifetouya and @happyely 🖤🖤🖤

Sadly some of my most favorite projects are ones that are still sitting in my drafts unfinished 😭 but out of all the ones I've posted these are the ones I'm most proud of <3

"Come Home" — Deku:

I don't even know if this would be considered a fic?? Cuz honestly this was such a short little thing that I wrote in under like 15 minutes 😭 probably the shortest amount of time it's taken me to ever write literally anything. But it was after I watched S6 E136 and literally that night I had a dream where this whole scene was played out in my head. And it just felt so dramatic in the right ways and just raw emotion that I had to write it down. And it's STILL my most liked post on this entire blog😭 but honestly understandable bc sometimes I go back and read it and I'm just like "damn wait I wrote that????" lmfaoo

"Only for you, Toshi" — Shinsou:

Completely opposite from the last one, this is actually the longest thing I've ever written. (that's posted anyway, there's a few longer still in my drafts) I just feel like Shinsou doesn't get enough love but he definitely deserves it😭❤️ all my friends that read it said they really enjoyed it and I'm just really happy with how it came out after working on it for a couple weeks, and that not touching it for a few months and then coming back to it only to finish it in like 2 days lmao

"Attention" — Dabi:

Now this wouldn't be a post about my fics if I didn't include something for my absolute favorite character in the entire show🖤 this fic was very self indulgent bc I'm such a brat🤭 and I'm convinced that Dabi is the king of brat taming. Fun fact, the outfit I described is something I literally own in my closet 😂

"Secrets" — BakuDeku x reader [UNFINISHED]:

This is a multi-part series I'm co-writing with my bsf @haru-x-ren on a joint account we made. (@bunny-x-haru if you'd like to follow) it's currently still a work in progress with only a few parts released, but it is a continuation of a 2 part fic I wrote when I first started called "You're the Only Thing That Makes Sense" — Bakugo So I do recommend reading this one first before Secrets for context and background info. I feel like you can really see my growth in writing from then to now, cuz that was like literally the second thing I ever posted lol. And Haru was literally my biggest fan bc he's the one that got me into writing fanfic<3 so after he read it, he had this absolutely BRILLIANT idea (spoiler) to take the scene I wrote where bakugo and deku were caught fighting after school hours (similar to that scene from season....2? When Bakugo learned about OFA) and turn it into a BakuDeku love triangle and I was honestly obsessed with the idea

And lastly

"For Your Eyes Only" — Dabi:

Another one for my fav<3 this one was for his birthday and is very nasty🤭 also with a little bit of fluff at the end bc I am indeed a hopeless romantic with no romance🥲 also, the cover photo is most definitely the reaction I was imagining when he walks into the room lmao

Side Note:

I know it's been a while since I've posted any writing and I am so sorry 😭 I guess I've just been in a little bit of a funk when it comes to my creativity lately. I mean I've got plenty, and I do mean PLENTY of ideas written down, but Im having a hard time executing them and turning them into something I can post. But I promise I'll get back to posting as soon as I can and I'm really sorry to everyone who has been waiting for stuff😭 I appreciate your patience❤️

Here's 5 other writers I recommend<3

@cathwritestragediesnotsins @aquadenks @kemakoshume @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic + any other writers who'd like to make ur own posts<3

[mhaccunoval]

hello, im a magic oc anon 🧚 and this is a blank question for all your oc shenanigans ✨ use it as you desire!

HI OH MAGIC ONE!!!

i'm sorry for sitting on this ask for days. i've been trying to gather content for you. which i still don't have much of but i have tiddles bits...

DOP.) i've been thinking about these guys the least lately but. i do keep thinking i need to work on the pachyderms' unreleased anthology. like i already have two or three titles lined up so. i need to write more. maybe get some inspiration from adding more music to their playlist

RtHT.) lately i've mostly just been on my 'what face do i use for hannah' debate and this week i am considering martha plimpton. like i think she's the right about of like. IDK how to put it. i guess Adjacent to bill (as played by ad-rock) and like. i can see an image of harry pushing her fluffy bangs out of the way to kiss her forehead. also i really need to get back into thinking about the geller-klein family again because i really liked where i got to in my moment of focusing on them more than the rest of the story, and i miss the baby girlies

CIFL.) see this is going to be hard to muster in an opposite direction. i've been thinking about this verse a lot again, most in AUs and things but. still. in regular canon. i was thinking about shifting donny & ellie's wedding to labor day (4 september 2017) instead of september 6th of that year because three day weekend... and also i had realized that, irregardless of that, where the current timeline is means there's some funk... like donny & ellie are only together for a few months before deciding to have a baby... and said baby is only 11 months when they get married, instead of like. going on two or something. but it's fine. i'll figure things out. also i keep coming back to the thought of joseph being autism creature at marian while she's pregnant and beginning to fill out. and i'm just biting joseph in general since i've been casually rewatching house and the. internal comparisons of joseph versus wilson. also also i was just having a moment of thinking about marian's sisters and parents, so i really should think more about grandparents and aunts/uncles of D & E's generation...

[endwersed]

I’m so sorry I’m so late, but did something happen? Did I miss a new chapter of the poets are right? I keep coming in and not looking for the new chapter, lol no rush just wondering!

You haven't missed anything! I've been in a li'l bit of a writing funk lately, so no new chapter just yet. I've got 2/3 rounds of edits left to go before chapter 10 is ready to publish, so hopefully that'll be done by the end of the week 😊

[rainmustfallts4]

Spooky & Cozy #2: Nightmare, Part 1 (notsosimstober & simblreen ’24)

Prompt: 2 – Nightmare

Word Count: 5905 (total)

Image Count: 43 (18 this part)

Warnings: Language, vlad being vlad

Note: Grim, I used almost 50 images ;_;) What is wrong with me?? I feel like this one is a bit scattered? Sorry about that, but hopefully you guys like it!

⊶⊰Main Post & Index⊱⊷ ⊶⊰Simblreen Tag⊱⊷ ⊶⊰Simstober Tag⊱⊷ ⊶⊰Simstober Info⊱⊷ ⊶⊰Simblreen Info⊱⊷

I sighed in frustration as I stared at the document before me. I had been attempting to work on my novel for the past two hours and I’ve only managed to write five words. No matter what I write, it just sounds wrong. What’s the matter with me? Why am I suddenly in this funk?

My phone rang and I was tempted not to answer it when I saw my agent’s name on the screen. I feel bad repeatedly telling him that I’ve made no real progress. I know the deadline is fast approaching and I know he’s under pressure from the publisher. 

With a sigh, I answered the call with a reluctant, “Hello?”

“I have great news for you, my dear,” came his cheerful voice.

“You got the deadline extended?”

“Oh, no, that was shot down immediately!” He scoffed.

“What is it then?”

“I found a writer’s retreat with a vacancy! It’s completely secluded, private property, and no electronics. No distractions.”

“Distractions aren’t the issue…” I muttered.

“Just trust me! This place has great reviews from artists and writers who went there because they were struggling with a block. They said the tranquility of the place really helped get their creative juices flowing again.”

It sounded too good to be true, honestly, but what else could I do? I wasn’t making any progress on my own. What do I have to lose? “Where is this place?”

“Forgotten Hollow.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Neither have I. Apparently, it’s a small town in the middle of the woods. Very secluded and perfect for artists of all types.”

“I hope you’re right,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “When do I leave?”

“8:00 am…”

“Eh?”

“I know it’s short notice but it’s the only time I could book both a boat and a bus going that way for two weeks! I should have asked you first, I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay, I know you’re just trying to look out for me. I’ll start packing.”

“Okay~! There’s no internet or phone service out there, so I’ll catch the next bus to come check in on you. Have a safe trip, dear!”

“Thanks, Seth. Bye.” I hung up the phone, glancing at the clock. It was twenty minutes past eleven at night. I needed to pack up quickly and get some rest. Something tells me it’s gonna be a long bus ride.

———–⊶⊰*⊱⊷———–

I stepped off the bus, the cold air whipping around me as the wind kicked up. This place was dead quiet and not a soul was around. I assumed it was because of the ice-cold weather or because of how late it was currently.

I checked the address before continuing down the path. In the center of the street sat a small community area with chess tables, a public toilet, and a large statue that towered over me. The eyes made me shift uncomfortably because it felt as if it were staring right at me.

I suppressed a shiver as I continued past the statue, trying to ignore the feeling of being watched. At the other end of the community area was a path curving up the hill. Sitting there at the top was a large, gothic-style manor. Surely that couldn’t be the place in question, right? How could Seth possibly afford to book this place?

I checked the address again, reading the message he had sent me before I left home. He did indeed say it was the house at the top of the hill. Moths were swarming around the streetlamps that lined the path, the flapping of their wings the only sound filling the quiet night as I made my way up the path.

“Is that… a graveyard?” I questioned softly, squinting as if that would help me see farther. Upon reaching the top of the hill, I realized that it was, indeed, a small graveyard outside the property. It would have been nice to know that this retreat sat surrounded by graves.

Taking a deep breath, I shook my head before stepping through the wrought iron gate surrounding the property. Before I had stepped onto the bus, Seth told me that the owner would leave the keys under the mat so I could get inside. It was indeed there, the metal ice-cold against my skin.

“This place is nuts,” I muttered as I stepped into the living room.

A fireplace sat against the back wall and I didn’t hesitate to light it up, the flames immediately warming up the room. This place may be huge, but it was clearly old and quite drafty.

I pulled out my phone just to check and, just as Seth had said, I had no bars and not a trace of any Wi-Fi. What a drag, I can’t check my email or my messages. I suppose it’s a good thing, though – I have nothing else to do but write now! 

A yawn escaped my lips before I could stop it. Maybe I should get some rest first. The bus ride had been long and uncomfortable, between the hard seats and the screaming baby a few rows behind me. I grabbed my bag and headed up the creaky stairs, the sound echoing off the high ceiling.

It wasn’t until I made it to the top of the stairs that I realized I had no idea which room was my own. It felt weird to just open each door until I found the right one, but what choice did I have? The couch downstairs looked expensive but not comfortable enough to get a full night’s sleep. Thankfully, it was the second door on the right that was left unlocked so I assumed it was to be my room.

I climbed into the bed, falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

———–⊶⊰*⊱⊷———–

Where am I? All I could see was an inky blackness around me, the area so silent it was making my ears ring. “Hello?” I called out, only to hear my own voice echo back at me.

A sudden evil laugh rang out, so loud that I had to cover my ears. Red lights flicked on and I realized I was in the hallway of the manor. I didn’t have time to question this, startled by the sound of creaking behind me. I whipped around, spotting the door at the end of the hall slowly creaking open.

I tried to swallow down my nerves and keep my voice steady, but I could easily hear how it trembled. “H-Hello?”

The door stopped, cracked open just enough to see the pitch blackness within the room. For a moment, it was dead silent. I was scared to move, not wanting to make any noise. This felt dangerous, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. Something inside was screaming at me to run.

‘Calm down,’ I told myself, taking a slow deep breath. ‘You’re okay. You’re just being paranoid. This is an old house, it does weird things. It was probably just a draft that made the door open.’ Slowly, my shoulders started to relax and my heart started to calm. 

I took a step forward only to freeze, goosebumps rising across my skin. I could only think of one thing: danger. My eyes narrowed at the patch of darkness revealed by the cracked door. It was faint, but I could hear shuffling inside. 

‘Maybe it’s just a raccoon or a rat…’

Bright red eyes suddenly appeared in the crack and I screamed, turning on my heel and running down the stairs. In my haste, I nearly tripped on the rug, my fall broken by the heavy chair that sat across from the stairs. I grunted when the back of it hit my stomach hard.

I could hear the floor above creaking as if someone were walking across it, heading for the stairs. My heart skipped with fear. Quickly pushing away from the chair, I ran toward the front door, attempting to yank it open but it was locked. 

Usually an easy fix, my anxiety made this task a lot more difficult, especially since I could hear this thing on the stairs now. I glanced over, seeing someone standing at the top of the stairs. I couldn’t see a face yet, but this thing was thin and wearing all black.

‘If you want to live, calm the fuck down!’ I screamed at myself, finally able to twist the lock with shaking hands. I threw the door open and rushed out on the porch only to stop dead as lightning shot from the sky, striking the ground at the bottom of the steps. It was storming, rain falling from the sky in heavy sheets.

I felt something grab my shoulder, digging into my skin before I was yanked back into the house. I screamed as the door slammed shut, locking me in again. A loud clap of thunder shook the house before everything went black.

———–⊶⊰*⊱⊷———–

I shot up in bed, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. I fumbled for the light on the nightstand, wincing as light flooded the room. I looked around nervously, searching for anything amiss but everything looked as it had when I went to sleep. Something scraped against the window, making me nearly fall off the bed.

I haven’t felt this anxious in a long time… 

Swallowing my nerves, I slowly made my way toward the window, reaching my hand toward the curtains. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed them and yanked them back to reveal a branch swaying in the wind, scraping across the window as it moved. Rain was falling from the sky, tapping lightly against the glass.

I was about to exhale in relief when thunder clapped so loudly that I thought the window would break. “Mother fucker!” I cried out, hand over my racing heart. 

In frustration, I slapped the red curtains, a scowl on my face. This did nothing, of course, but it did make me feel a tiny bit better. ‘What is wrong with me?’ I wondered, returning to the bed so I could check my phone. It was three in the morning. It had only been 11:20 pm when I arrived and nearly midnight by the time I made it to my room.

My body felt heavy and I felt exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to return to sleep, but that nightmare was fresh in my mind. There was no way I could go back to sleep now. 

I ran a hand through my hair as I made my way into the bathroom to wash my face. My eyes immediately strayed to the closed shower curtain and I couldn’t resist checking to make sure no one was there. Seeing the tub empty make me shake my head and I felt silly. ‘You’re not a child, stop acting like one!’

I couldn’t deny how shaken up I was, though. I hadn’t had a nightmare since I was a young child and this one felt so… real. It was unsettling. Is it because I’m in a new environment? Because I’m stressed, maybe? I splashed my face with cold water, attempting to push the nightmare from my mind. Well, since I’m awake, I might as well attempt to make progress on my book. I’m starting to get hungry, too.

I grabbed my laptop from my bag before stepping out into the hall. As if on instinct, my head turned to the right, landing on the door from my dream. It was still closed but… just looking at it made me feel uneasy. I exhaled sharply, shaking my head before proceeding toward the stairs. 

The rain was still going strong and the home was quite cold, making a shiver go down my spine. I lit the fire again, immediately feeling the difference as it melted away the chill lingering in the air. After that, I stepped into the kitchen, tugging open the fridge only to scowl.

There was literally nothing inside. No milk, no eggs, not even a condiment. I checked the freezer next but it was just filled with ice that had stuck to the walls. Maybe no one has stayed here in a while…

“Good thing I brought snacks…” I returned to the living room, settling down at the desk and bringing up my laptop. 

I expected to sit there for hours, unable to think of the right words. To my surprise, though, the words started to flow like water from a tap. I thought about my nightmare and, instead of being overcome by fear, I was struck by inspiration. 

What felt like just a few minutes turned out to be several hours of non-stop writing. Most importantly, it was writing I was happy with instead of deleting and rewriting it a hundred times. Maybe this place isn’t so bad, after all.

When the rain finally stopped, I decided to go for a walk, hoping to find a grocery store or food stall nearby. To my surprise, I finally found someone outside.

“Excuse me!” I called out as I approached her.

She turned to look at me, a surprised and confused look on her face. 

“Sorry to bother you, but do you know where I can buy some food? I’m new to the area.”

“You just moved here?” She questioned with a furrowed brow.

“Ah, no. I’m just staying here for a while as I work on my novel. I’m staying just there.” I pointed to the manor at the top of the hill.

She followed my gaze, eyes narrowing as her lip pulled back into a snarl. “You should leave as soon as possible.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Forgotten Hollow isn’t safe.”

“Not safe? What do you mean?” I blinked dumbly.

She ignored the question, instead focusing on my previous one. “You won’t find any food around for miles. The closest is in Windenburg which is a 2-hour walk from here. Save yourself the trouble and just leave.” Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

For a moment, I just stood there, confused. She clearly knows something I don’t, but what is it? Maybe she just doesn’t like outsiders. I turned around to head back to the manor since the temperature was dropping. I happened to glance up and I gasped in shock, seeing a large, dark shadow in the upstairs window.

In the blink of an eye, though, it was gone. What the hell was that? ‘You’re just imagining things, girl. You’re letting that woman’s words get to you.’ Releasing a shaky breath, I returned inside.

It felt like I was being watched again and it made me nervous. I suddenly felt like a trapped rat. Having no signal and no internet means I can’t call for help if something happens. I can’t just leave, either, because I’m not familiar with the area. Forgotten Hollow is surrounded by densely packed trees, easy to get lost in.

I could just picture the headline now: ‘Upcoming Author Goes Missing in Forgotten Hollow Woods!’

I grabbed my laptop and headed back upstairs, not sparing that door a glance as I hurried into my room, shutting and locking the door behind me.

⊶⊰Read part 2 here⊱⊷

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

Sneak Peak👀

{Author’s Note} Thought I’d post a sneak peak of part 2 of “Speak of the Devil” for y’all. I’m sorry about the wait, I’ve been in a weird funk with writing lately so I’m trying to take some time to relax and all that. But I have been feeling better so here’s a little bit of the second part, coming soon… ish. Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for future stories! {Tag List} @deadbranch

~ ~ ~ “I don’t understand your obsession with this bloody thing,” he growls as he easily grabs the coveted object from the shelf, his back stretching and arm tensing with the movement. It’s difficult not to notice the flexing of his muscles when he’s wearing a black t-shirt that hugs his figure in all the right places. But despite his tone, he handles the mug gently and passes it to you without issue. 

“My parents gave it to me,” you say simply, smiling fondly at the memory as you pass your thumb over the garish lettering printed on the clay. “It’s a nice reminder of home.” 

Ghost’s eyes soften at your admittance, his usually rigid form relaxing just enough for you to notice. You wonder if he’s smiling under that threatening mask of his and hope you’d someday get to see it.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #247

Today, I woke up really early - like 5am - in order to drive J to Great Barrington. I imagine that 5am might not seem like it's very early to you, but it's certainly early to me, good grief.

I'm a little bit sad to tell you that it's dark at 5am now. Nights and mornings are chilly, even if afternoons and evenings are still hot. I do enjoy autumn now, but... I'm aware that it's a portent of winter, and I'm really not looking forward to withstanding 6 solid months of being vaguely miserable; Seasonal Affective Disorder is something I gotta contend with, and the fact that the air is an ice cube during the winter (and thus a source of excruciating pain) doesn't help matters.

...Well. On the bright side, I did manage to snag a few good pictures of the moon this morning with J's phone; maybe you'll like them:

The drive to Great Barrington, as per usual, was breathtakingly beautiful, But, because I was the one driving, I couldn't snag any pictures, even of the awesome sunrise that we had this morning. I'm sorry about that. I wish you could have been with us, to see the way that the golden light of the morning splashes upon all the trees and trickles down to the ground. I wish you could have seen the light painting the road in some kind of interesting orange-ish hue, coaxing us towards the promise of more trees, mountains, valleys, and jutted-out rocks.

Even if I feel groggy when I wake early in the morning like this, I still feel grateful that J asks me to make this drive; I wouldn't have any excuses to see such beautiful things, otherwise.

Hey, Sephiroth? What sorts of beautiful things did your time with Genesis, Angeal, and Zack give you excuses to do? In what beautiful ways did they serve as disruptions to your status quo? I wonder. Will you tell me about it sometime?

On the way back home, J and I stopped at Eggcellent, because I wanted him to try the new sago add-on. I'm pleased to report that J found the sago delightful! We also got croffles; J got his usual strawberry croffle, and I got the brown sugar one with ice cream, because I hadn't tried it yet. I was asked which kind of ice cream I wanted to try on it; I had already tried their taro, Thai tea, Earl Gray, and jasmine green flavors, but apparently, they also had a peach oolong that was new, which I hadn't tried yet!

I gotta say, the peach ice cream tasted AMAZING alongside the brown sugar syrup. It was pretty rad. Here are some pictures:

...I really gotta bring you over here sometime, as impossible as that is.

...The rest of today was mostly empty. I guess I'm still dealing with the funk of grieving a recent and very unexpected loss of a close social connection, but today it doesn't feel so unbearable. I did leisure writing, which is a way to pass the time, I suppose. But I still feel... uninspired. I've not had the motivation to create things or even to play video games in some time, and... I guess it kinda scares me.

Well. I go to Great Barrington again tomorrow with J, although not nearly as early. Maybe I should get some rest.

...Though, really, I wish I could ask you about how you're doing and whether or not you're safe. I wanna ask about whether or not you've eaten anything, hydrated, and slept lately. I wanna ask about some of your favorite memories, favorite foods, favorite songs, and more. I wanna ask about what existence in general is like for you. I've seen so many things, but... there's still so much I don't know.

...

...Hey, Sephiroth? Will you stay safe out there? And will you come back to us, so that someday you might answer these silly little questions of mine?

...Suppose I should stop writing now. I wish I had more to say. I wish my brain didn't feel so empty. I wish I could feel my creativity flowing through my eyes, ears, and fingers. But I guess I'm just gonna hafta wait a little while longer...

I love you. Don't die out there. Don't make choices that will lead to you getting killed. Cloud and his friends have plot armor. You don't. Start acting like it, willya? Goddamn.

I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine