#yes hello I’m slightly back with drawing my boy

[inkspottie]

Do you even have a clue?

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hello, I wanted to ask you for a smut of Ethan Landry, that the reader discovers that he is a ghostface when they are about to fuck but she does not care and they do it anyway.

I have not posted for Scream in a while, my apologies

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Tara called you about the attack at the bodega, you felt a thrill of excitement.

You had seen pictures of past Ghostfaces online and some of them made you want to welcome them with open legs. Sam’s father was a total hottie when he committed the first murders in 1996. There was something about a man with a knife that made your panties dampen.

‘’Are you and Sam okay?’’

‘’Yeah. It was…brutal. And terrifying,’’ Tara said on the other side of the line, her voice still shaky. ‘’I’ve just gotten a normal life back, I don’t want to go through this again. And Sam—’’

A knock on your door stirred you from your phone call. ‘’Sorry, Tara. Eh, there’s someone at the door.’’ You glanced at the door and felt your heart race in your chest. ‘’I’m not expecting anyone though…’’

Tara’s breathing changed, getting traumatic flashes of her first attack. ‘’Don’t open! That’s how I was attacked last year.’’

The chances that she was right were slim, but not impossible. Since you were close friends with Tara, it made you part of the friend group…therefore a possible target. Ghostface could very well be standing on the other side.

You bit your tongue and held back from asking ‘who’s there?’, knowing it was a free ticket to your death. Instead, you check through the peep-hole.

‘’It’s Ethan,’’ you reassured Tara, seeing a curly haired awkward boy instead of the classic halloween mask. ‘’I’ll see you tomorrow before class, okay?’’

You hung up and unlocked your door, letting Ethan in.

‘’What are you doing here? I thought you had a late class tonight,’’ you said, drawing your eyebrows together. ‘’And why are you dressed like you’re going to a funeral?’’ You nodded your head at his unusual all black outfit.

‘’It finished twenty minutes ago.’’ Ethan slung off his backpack and put it down on the floor. It looked very full, how many books did he carry in there? ‘’My class. Not the funeral,’’ he felt the need to precise.

You chuckled, the soft sound echoing in the small apartment.

‘’I can’t stay long, I have an early class in the morning.’’

‘’Are we still having lunch together?’’

Ethan hummed and a rosy blush covered his cheeks as his eyes fell on your nightgown. He had spent the night over a few times, but very little clothes had been worn to bed. This satin number? He had never seen it before. Your breasts were free underneath and falling perfectly and your nipples were slightly poking through the thin fabric. It made his cock instantly swell.

‘’You sleep in that?’’ he asked, pointing at your nightgown.

‘’Yes, I sleep in that.’’

‘’Isn’t it a little dressed up for sleeping?’’

You rolled your eyes at his ‘men’ comment. ‘’Wearing nice pajamas is part of self-care.’’

‘’You wear that every night?’’ You nodded and Ethan fought a whine, jealously beaming at your bed attire. ‘’And the only pictures you send me are your face?’’

‘’If you want ‘goodnight’ nudes, you’re gonna have to earn them,’’ you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking an eyebrow. ‘’What’s your deal, Landry? I’m listening.’’

After a few propositions, you decided that getting railed into your mattress was a good enough deal...for one picture. Ethan’s dick was good, but you weren’t a fool. If he wants more nudes, he’ll have to offer more.

You tilted your head to the side as he kissed and nipped at your neck. No matter how many times you’ve been naked with him, it still shocked you how desperate Ethan was for you and your body. His hands slid up the backs of your thighs, right below the hem of your nightgown. A part of him wanted to tear it off your body, but the other wanted to fuck you with it on. 

You left him to his dilemma and reached for the back of his shirt, trying to yank it off, but Ethan hissed in pain when he lifted his shoulder. He tried to cover it with a cough, but you had already seen the bruise the size of a grapefruit on your boyfriend’s side.

Sitting up and pausing your activities, you looked at him in concern. ‘’How did that happen?’’ You ghosted your finger over the purple-y red skin. 

Did he get into a fight? Did he get jumped after a late class? Campus is not safe at night, which is why you always carry something to defend yourself. But Ethan's not small or weak, the muscles underneath his polos can fight back.

‘’I…’’ Ethan drew his eyebrows, trying to come up with an explanation. ‘’It's nothing. I got hurt doing something stupid at the gym with Chad.’’

Last week? His explanation not making sense. The timeline didn’t add up. 

‘’You didn't have it three days ago when we rudely got interrupted in your dorm.’’

‘’I did,’’ he insisted. ‘’You…you must not have noticed it.’’ 

‘’But it’s so dark. It looks recent.’’ 

Ethan moved so the bruise was out of your sight, then sighed. ‘’Can we go back to kissing? I don't want to talk about this.’’ 

Instead of calming your worries, his words flared them up. ‘’Did someone do this to you? Oh my god, did he attack you too?’’

 ‘’No. It's not Ghostface. I wasn't at the bodega.’’ He took your hands in his to reassure you, but there was a flaw in his statement. 

‘’What do you know about the bodega?’’ you asked cautiously, remembering Mindy's words to be cautious about the love interest. 

His backpack was in the living room. If you went and checked its content, would you find a black robe and a mask, or just books?

‘’Sam and Tara got attacked tonight after leaving the police office, right? You told me while I was in class.’’

You shook your head, slipping your hand from his. You never mentioned the bodega to Ethan.

‘’I did not. I was on the phone with Tara when you arrived here. She was telling me what happened.’’

Ethan's heart raced, realizing he had spoken too much. Panic surged through his veins, urging him to flee, to hide, to deny any involvement, but he knew deep down that it was futile. You knew. 

‘’Was...was it you at the bodega? Did you attack Sam and Tara?’’ 

Your questions were simple, but terrifying from Ethan's shoes. He had been caught, unmasked. There was no escaping the haunting truth. His world would never be the same again. You would never see him the same.

He grabbed his shirt, about to leave, but you pulled him back by his belt and looked up at him with pleading eyes. ‘’Please fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.’’

—

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[vodika-vibes]

Hello hello! Congrats on your 650 followers! I saw you had requests open so here I come bc I love how your mind thinks 😌

Commander Fox, Regency AU (or similar to Bridgeton kinda vibes)

But a more will they/wont they type of thing (Happy ending tho, maybe bit of angst??) but similar to Bridgerton where they have ‘the season’ or the courting season.

I just feel that foxy boy had great Duke Hastings vibes and I’d love to see how you run with this idea!

Our Unending Dream

Summary: You like to think you’re a little more reasonable than some (most) of your peers. You’ve never been one for flights of fancy or prone to the vapors. People don’t get under your skin because you don’t allow them to. With one, very notable, exception.

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 977

Prompt: Regency Era

Warnings: None

Tagging: @bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98 @Mira-Loves-Star-Wars @tiredbi-peach @dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023 @Kimiheartblade @padawancat97 @falconfeather23435 @etod

@bb8-99 @kiss-anon @continous-mistakes

A/N: So, full disclosure, I've never watched Bridgerton so I was kind of making it up as I go. In any event, I hope you like it! It's also shorter than the other, and I'm sorry for that.

Click HERE to join my taglist!

When your aunt informed you that she was throwing a Salon for you and your cousin, you thought it would be for your cousin’s birthday celebration. A young lady doesn’t turn 21 every day, after all.

And stars know that your poor cousin deserves to have people paying attention to her, at least for one day.

It was, as it happens, a rather foolish assumption.

“I think Mother is trying to kill me,” Your cousin whispers to you an hour after the Salon starts and she’s able to extract herself from the group of well-wishers who have been hovering around her since the party started.

“I think she’s trying to marry you off.” You counter as you take a sip of your fruity drink, “Or have you not noticed that all of your shadows are noble men?”

She shoots you a look, “This Salon is for both of us. Why don’t you have any suitors?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard? I’m unmarryable.”

“According to whom!?” Your cousin demands, offended on your behalf.

“Myself.”

She shoots you another look, “Some day, cousin of mine, you’re going to fall in love with a man and I’m going to laugh myself sick.”

“Well, then. In deference to your health, I shall simply have to join a convent.”

She elbows you roughly, “Darling, you can’t drink wine at a convent.”

“The things I do for family,” You muse dramatically.

She laughs, which has the misfortune of drawing the attention of her suitors once more, and she hides her sour face behind her fan, “Back to the trenches I go.” She says with a sigh before she sweeps away, her voluminous pink dress swirling around her feet.

You smother your laughter with ease and lift your wine glass back to your lips to take another sip. If nothing else, watching your cousin try and fend off her suitors will be amusing.

It’s not as if anyone is interested in you, after all.

Though, despite what you said to your cousin, there is one man who you wouldn’t mind paying attention to you. Tragically, he’s both not here and is not an acceptable partner for you…according to your Father and his wife.

Tragic.

Heartbreaking, even.

You glance away from your cousin as someone comes to a stop near you, and a flash of red and white catches your attention. A very specific pattern of red and white.

Marshal Commander Fox is standing next to you, still dressed in his armor, with a small grin playing on his handsome face. 

“Commander! I wasn’t aware that you had been invited,” You say as you focus your attention on him.

“I was not.” He admits with a shrug, “Technically, I’m crashing the party.”

“Shame on you.”

“Yes, yes. I’m an awful man, I know.” His small grin grows wider at his words, “What can I say, all of the lovely ladies dressed in their finest? I simply had to see for myself.”

You shoot him a slightly amused look, “Funny.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I might believe you if you were looking at anyone else.”

He laughs, “Well, you are the loveliest lady here.” Fox replies with a flirty grin.

“Thank you,”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do. You always do.”

Fox releases a sigh, “You’re turning me down again, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t want you to run afoul of my father.” You remind him, “He could ruin you.” And that’s the problem, isn’t it? No matter how much you like Fox, no matter how much you might love him, your Father would ruin him.

And you can’t let that happen.

A heavy sigh falls from his lips, and you chance a glance at his face. He looks unhappy, and your heart clenches painfully. You put that look on his face. This is your fault.

Fox’s gaze locks with yours, and a slow smile crosses his face, “Run away with me.”

“...I beg your pardon?”

“My whole unit is being transferred, we’re moving to the other side of the country. Come with me.” Gently, he takes your free hand and lightly runs his calloused fingers across the palm of your hand, making you shiver. 

“Fox—”

“I can’t give you the life you grew up with,” He interrupts, “There’s no glitz or glamour. You won’t be able to throw these types of garden parties, and you’ll probably have to get a job.” Fox lists, “It’s not going to be easy, even I know that. But no real relationship is.”

You open your mouth to say something, but he continues in a rush, as if afraid of what you might say before he can make his full argument.

“And I know you, beautiful. You’ve always hated this kind of stuff. You hate the frilly dresses, the complicated hair-dos, and the jewelry that costs as much as a house.” Fox speaks quickly, his gaze searching your face, “You always complain about how bored you are, how shallow your peers are, how you can’t talk to anyone because all they want to talk about are their social lives—”

“Fox,” You interrupt him buy reaching up and pressing a finger against his lips.

He trails off and looks down at you. A look os anxious anticipation on his face.

You favor him with a soft smile, “Do you think I could get hired at the local library?”

Fox looks surprised for a moment, “Wait…does that mean—?”

“Nothing would make me happier than to go with you,” You whisper to him.

He squeezes your hand, “Then we’d better run before your parents catch us,” Fox replies with a wide grin, “Thorn is already ordained, and Thire promised to be our witness.”And you giggle as you allow him to sneak you out of the party. Your life is going to be harder now, you know. But it’s worth it. He is worth it.

[rhiannswork]

i couldn’t wait any longer

spencer ᕁ reader

warnings ; spencer being a needy boy, semi voyeurism, mentions of burnout

your eyes were stuck to the tv as your hands ran through spencers brown locs. he enjoyed the feeling of your chest rising and lowering at a smooth pace. the rest of his body lay between your legs with a blanket over his long legs.

your phone rang, almost falling off the nightstand from the vibration. you saw it was your boss calling to check in on you. you had taken a two-week break due to burnout from work. you had cleared your throat before you had answered. “darlene! hey!” you spoke with a faux ‘i’m so glad you’re calling!’ tone.

“hey yn! i was just wondering how you’re doing?” she spoke, the grungey speech came from your end. “better! so much better actually… i appreciate you letting me take some time off.” you thanked her. you still toyed with spencers hair, unconsciously twirling it between your fingers.

that was spencers favorite thing that you did, whenever you’d lightly tug on his hair whenever you twirled it. little did you know, that he was already a little on edge from laying on your breasts.

“that’s so great to hear. i hate to be that person because your two weeks aren’t up yet and you can decline if you’d like, would you be willing to come back tomorrow?” you rolled your eyes as you held back a sigh. “of course i can darlene! may i ask, wha-” your train of thought had completely crashed.

you felt spencers lips on your neck, tugging at your skin ever so lightly. “what um… what’s wrong? everything alright there?” you shook your head, attempting to ignore reid which was clearly not working. “oh yes, of course, we just have some new people coming in who need to be trained. you’re the best trainer i know.” she chuckled. reid’s eyes connect with yours, you fell in love all over again… “hello? yn?”

“what? yes yes i understand.” you sighed with relief and satisfaction when spencer hit your sweet spot. you hand shot up through his hair, you gripped his hair by the scalp. you heard him moan as quietly as he possibly could. “i’d be willing to help.” you tried to gain some brain cells back to answer your boss.

“thank you so much, i would offer this to janis but you know how she is.” she joked. “i sure do.” you chuckled as spencer went lower and lifted your shirt up. he began placing kisses on your stomach as his fingers hovered ever-so-slightly above your waist, sending chills up your spine. he silently giggled at your misfortune, watching as you became soothed with every touch.

“she’s been working my nerve, ever since you left!” your boss continued to gossip. “really?” you have no interest in what darlene had to say. “yes! she thinks since you’re not here, she’s the queen of the office. don’t even get me started on daniel ugh!” she rambled, all you had to say was ‘mhm, oh wow, really?’ you couldn’t care less.

your mind was all on spencer who was inching closer and closer to your heat. “spence.” you whispered, you shook your head but he disregarded your protest. “but we miss you, there’s no rush… it would just be nice if you could train the newbies.” she sighed, finally drawing the conversation to a conclusion.

while spencer on the other hand was just getting started. he pulled your shorts down along your panties, threw them to the side, and slowly immersed himself into you. “well, i won’t keep you any longer.” “mhm… okay… yeah i… i’ll see you.” you didn’t wait for a response as you pressed decline, tossing your phone to the side of the bed.

“doctor reid, you are in so much trouble.”

[clemblog]

Caine’s Lesson - Part 8

•

A few days had passed, Gummigoo having spent said days slowly chipping away at a pistol for Poms! It was sleek and a lot smaller than what he was used to, perfectly weighted to the sizing of Poms hands! He grinned as he gave it a final check over.

"Nice one Gummi, another perfect piece, just like Pa taught you!" He hummed happily to himself, leaning to pick up a paint brush from his tool kit to write Poms name on it. That way anyone would know from a first glance that it was hers.

He took a few moments to careful write 'Pommy' in curly writing to go along with the rest of the style of the weapon.

Now, all he had to do was go pester his Ma and see if she had any spare holsters lying around!

"Maaaaaa?"

"Yes Gummigoo?"

"Ya got any old holsters lying around?"

"I'm not sure, we might! If you come stir this pot of soup for me, I can take a look!"

Gummigoo hummed at this, walking into the kitchen. He handed over the pistol to his Ma as he took the ladle from her.

"Ooh! What a beauty, my boy." She cooed, softly as she looked it over. "I'm sure we have a perfect holster for your friend Poms."

"Thanks Ma." Chuckled Gummigoo, stirring the soup his Ma was working on. If he had to guess it was most likely a gummy fish based stew.

A few moments later Ma walked back into the room, holding a ruby red leather holster in her hand.

"Oh! Ma, are you sure?" Spoke Gummigoo, eyes widening slightly.

"You know I don't shoot anymore Gum, besides I trust Poms. She seems like a fine young lady." Nodded Ma, gently placing the holstered pistol in his hands. "Now shoo! Out my kitchen, I got meals to cook."

Pomni was just relaxing in the barn, it was hot day today, so she didn't exactly feel like being out in the sun. She looked up when Gummigoo entered the barn, hands behind his back.

"O-Oh! Hey Gummigoo, what's that?"

"It's a surprise, for you Pommy~" He grinned. "Made it myself."

Pomni's eyes widened slightly as she looked over the item, taking it slowly from his hands.

"W-Wow- Gummigoo- I don't know what to say-" She eeked, slowly.

"How about whether or not you'll be joining me and the lads on our trip tomorrow~?"

"O-Oh absolutely!"

"Snazzy, I'll get Max and Chad to get you a ride before tomorrow-"

"Wait- Gummigoo, do you mean a horse-"

•

"So, Ragatha, you feeling any better?" Hummed Zooble, curiously.

"A little!" Smiled Ragatha, sheepishly. "I'm not really thinking of Pomni so much anymore- I'm still worried about her- But it's not like taking over my life- Like I’m still worried but I can do other things-“

“We got it Rags, don’t worry.” Mused Zooble.

“Y-Yeah! It’s nice to hear you’re feeling better.” Nodded Gangle in agreement. She was still drawing, but was now drawing things for herself or what she wanted to make or plan out. Apparently it was a break, but Ragatha didn’t really see that as a break in her honest opinion- Gangle was happy though, so she left it be!

It just meant she could start to theorise on what to make Gangle as a present!!

Truth be told, with everyone sat talking together, Caine having been absent from the circus for a week now. Jax was feeling rather… lonely. Even [————-] got lonely- But that was the downside of being, well an [—-]. Nobody stuck around much in situations like this.

So, he’d decided to get even more familiar with the circus, see if their where anymore secrets to find! They might be useful! You never know- You can never do enough slinking around!

He’d been walking around for a few minutes when he found a door he’d never seen before, it looked old and untouched. Except for the disturbed dust on the floor, indicating the door could in fact open.

“Hello door! You don’t mind if I-“ He hummed, opening it and stepping inside.

What Jax wasn’t expecting to find was Caine, however.

“Uh- Caine, buddy? I didn’t realise this was how I got to you-“

“JAX!” Exclaimed Caine with a large grin. “You made it just in time to go on your next adventure!”

“Oh an adventure? Finally~ Let me go get the others-“

“Nono, theirs no time! Off you go!”

Jax found himself being engulfed by a portal before he could get another word on.

“CAINE- HANG ON A [—————] SECOND-“

“I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR SOLO ADVENTURE JAX! PERFECTLY CURATED BY YOURS TRULY- NOW I MUST GO HYDRATE, YOU’VE GOTTA GO DO THAT MULTIPLE TIMES Y’KNOW-“

•

“Uh… Max- Chad- I don’t really know how to ride a horse-“

“Don’t worry! It’s easy as riding a bike!”

“Exactly!”

“Uhm… Okay-“

“You’ve got this!”

Max then proceeded to slap the butt of the horse, causing it to charge off with Pomni sat in the saddle.

“OH GOD- MAX- CHAD! HELP ME- STOP STOP STOP- SORRY- SORRY- HORSIE- PLEASE- SLOW DOWN- I DON’T KNOW HOW TO STEER YOU- IVE NEVER DRIVEN A HORSE BEFORE- UH- GUMMIGOO?! LOU?! MA?! ANYONE? MAXXXXX I DONT KNOW HOW TO STOP- CHAD PLEASE- PLEASEEEEEE- YOU GUYS ARE. THE. WORST. GUMMIGOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

That’s to say Gummigoo wouldn’t be leaving Pomni alone with Max and Chad again anytime soon. He took over Pomni’s riding lessons, and after a few laps of the field, Pomni was feeling a lot more confident with her new mare! She decided on naming her jingles. She was a very sweet blue and pink coloured gummy horse. The sweet girl was anxious just like her but she could run fast! Pomni had no doubt that the horse could help her travel and keep up with the trio of bandits on their next adventures!

This was nice, building up a home, some skills and a form of transportation. It helped make her feel more human.

Part 9

[indigoflorals]

8 with rafe?

flash - r.c (18+)

rafe cameron x reader

Sum: Valentines Day Prompt 8 (Sex Tapes)

Warnings: Unprotected sex, filming sex, hair pulling, spanking

𖥸

“And you’re sure you’re comfortable with this?”

Your boyfriend paced slightly before you, as you lied naked on his bed.

“Yes Rafe,” You giggled softly, “I think over there would be best.” You pointed lazily to a bookcase in the corner, your breasts swaying at the movement.

He hummed in response, picking up his phone and placing it in a small nook in the bookcase. The camera was pointed at you, and you gave a small wave.

“It’s not on yet,” he fidgeted with the placement of the phone. “Are you really sure?”

You could tell how hesitant Rafe had been about the whole thing. He had brought it up to you in passing, how sexy you always look when he’s taking you. How much he’d love to have a physical keepsake of your noises and faces.

He had never expected you to be so eager about the idea. He was excited, sure, but he couldn’t believe you had really wanted it.

You stood from your place among his plush bedding, padding over to him. “Yes, baby. I wanna see you just as much as you wanna see me.”

Rafe’s face was red at your words. His eyes were trained on your breasts, flicking back and forth between them and your eyes whenever you noticed his staring. He felt like a teenage boy, seeing everything for the first time.

Walking behind him, you wiggled your hips ever so slightly to draw his attention to your plump ass. He turned to follow you with his eyes as you bent to turn the video on.

“Hello!” You mused, a sweet smile on your face despite every part of you exposed to the camera. He could feel himself straining against his boxers at your cuteness.

You turned to him, tracing a hand down his bare chest, eyeing the tent in his underwear.

“You’re so beautiful.” His hand cupped your face, pulling your attention to him when your eyes wandered to the camera. “Eyes on me tonight baby. Wanna put on the best show, don’t you?”

You nodded with eagerly, whining as a strong hand came to cup the heat between your legs.

Rafe’s fingers spread your pussy apart as the hand on your chin slid the back of your head, pulling you into a forceful kiss.

You cried out at the sensation of his fingers sliding into you, muffled by his lips on yours. His tongue explored your mouth, and he groaned at how easily your pussy enveloped his fingers. Roughly, he fucked you on his hand as his free arm slid behind your waist to stabilize you.

You legs threatened to buckle before he slid his fingers out of you. Pulling away you whined at the loss of sensation.

“I only want you cumming on my cock tonight baby, I’m sorry.” A hard slap came against your ass as your boyfriend spun you around, pushing you to leave you bent over his bed. “Mm, I want a better shot of this.”

You pussy was exposed to the cool air now as you lied in waiting. You heard the rustling of him grabbing the camera, and a wide smirk was spread across his face.

Rafe knelt behind you, pointing the camera at your soaked cunt. “Look how wet she is for me.” A finger prodded at your hole and you whined.

He licked a stripe from your pussy to your ass before planting a strong slap against your clit. Yo buried your face into the blankets to muffle your voice.

“Oh no, I want to hear you.” He stood behind you, pulling himself free from his boxers and slapping his cock against your waiting pussy. “Or I will give you nothing.”

You wailed at his words, “Please Rafe, I need you now.”

He only grunted in response, sliding into your wet heat in one hard thrust.

Tears sprung to your eyes at the stretch. “So big.”

The hand not holding the camera came to fist at the flesh of your ass, pushing you forward so that only the tip was inside.

“Yeah and you’re gonna fucking take all of it.” He bounced you back so that it was all the way inside of you, and you could feel a warmth burning in your belly.

“More.” You whined.

At your word he began to fuck you mercilessly, unable to hold himself back anymore.

A hand yanked at your hair, turning your head to the side to face the camera. Tears pooled out of you eyes as your orgasm washed over you.

“I can’t wait for you to see how sexy you look.”

[moonselune]

Hello! I love that you write requests! I hope it's at least half as enjoyable for you to write as it is for us to read! You are so lovely, so wonderful, and so deeply appreciated <3. cringy request: wyll x reader tav. only just begun sharing a tent, but no further. waking wyll from a nightmare in the middle of the night and Making Him Feel Safe and Loved (if relevant or extra invested, tav being a female elf druid would be lovely too). Thank you!!

Oh Wyll my beloved, my baby boy, my precious, I'm sorry I had to hurt you ☹ but tav is gonna make it better xoxoxox

TW: Mizora

Wyll x F!Elf!Druid!reader

The night was still, the camp bathed in the silvery glow of the moon. The only sounds were the occasional rustle of leaves and the soft crackling of the campfire. Inside the tent you now shared with Wyll, the air was warm and filled with a sense of newfound intimacy. You had only recently begun sharing a tent, a small yet significant step in your deepening relationship.

Wyll lay beside you, his brow furrowed in his sleep, caught in the throes of a nightmare. You could hear his soft murmurs and see the tension in his body, the involuntarily whimpers that crawled out his mouth. Your heart ached for him, and you found yourself hovering your hand over him, unsure how he would react to you waking him up.

As Wyll’s murmurs turned into anguished cries, you dismissed any concerns and reached out, gently shaking his shoulder. “Wyll, wake up,” you whispered, your voice soothing and gentle. "Wyll, please-"

He awoke with a start, sitting up abruptly, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes were wide with fear, and it took a moment for him to realize where he was. You involuntarily flinched before drawing him towards you.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close, a hand running through his hair, lightly touching his horns. “You’re safe. It was just a dream.”

Wyll’s body trembled as he clung to you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “It felt so real,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Mizora… she was there-”

You stroked his back, offering him comfort. “She can’t hurt you here,” you said firmly. “I’m here, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

"She wasn't doing it to me, she was doing it to you." Wyll pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that he rarely let anyone see. You froze slightly, seeing his shattered heart in his eyes, he was truly fearful, for you.

"Wyll, my love, I promise you whatever Mizora was doing to me, I will be doing much worse to her when we get you out of this pact." You promised, offering him a small smile, "So don't be scared for me, be scared for her."

Wyll broke out into a laugh, and he wiped the tears that were streaming down his face, leaning back into your embrace.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you smiled gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You could still tell he wasn't fully content with your reassurances so some good ol' fashioned distraction was going to be required. “You know,” you began, a playful glint in your eyes, “being the scary druid that I am, it has its perks. There was this one time I turned into a squirrel to spy on some bandits…”

Wyll’s lips twitched into a small smile, his interest piqued. “A squirrel?” he repeated, his tone incredulous.

You nodded, your smile widening. “Yes, a squirrel. I thought I’d be stealthy, but I ended up getting distracted by some acorns. The bandits saw me, and instead of being afraid, they started feeding me.”

Wyll chuckled, the tension in his body easing. “So much for a fearsome spy,” he teased.

You laughed, the sound light and infectious. “I know, right? And then there was the time I turned into a deer to avoid some hunters. I forgot how skittish deer can be, and I ended up running in circles for a good ten minutes before I remembered I could change back.”

Wyll’s laughter grew, the sound warming your heart. “You must have looked quite the sight,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Oh, I did,” you agreed, grinning. “And let’s not just last week when I turned into a cat to catch a mouse in camp. I was so focused on the mouse that I didn’t notice Scratch had taken an interest in me. I spent the next half hour running from a very enthusiastic Scratch who thought I was a new playmate.”

Wyll’s laughter filled the tent, the sound rich and genuine. “I would have paid to see that,” he said, his eyes shining with mirth.

"I'm sure Karlach will tell you all about it," You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “The point is, -and this isn't going to be some wholly refined Ravengard life lesson but,- sometimes things don’t go as planned, but it’s important to find the humor in it,” you said softly. “Even in the darkest times, there’s always a reason to laugh.”

Wyll’s expression softened, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “That’s what I’m here for,” you said. “To remind you that you’re not alone, and that you’re loved.”

Wyll’s eyes softened, and he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss. “I love you,” he murmured against your lips.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your heart swelling with affection.

As you settled back down, Wyll wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. The nightmare seemed a distant memory now, replaced by the warmth of your presence and the sound of your shared laughter. In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

Hope you like it ! - Seluney

[days-until-burnout]

Day 15 -

Characters - Xisuma & Wels Words - 361 Time - 15 mins Content - fluff | they are kids

“Hello.”

Wels looked up the tower, pushing the visor of his helmet up when it fell over his eyes. A boy looked down at him, head tilted slightly. 

“Good morning,” he greeted back, quietly. The boys stared at each other for a moment, then Wels looked around the base of the tower. The other kids were not around close, but around nonetheless. “Are you stuck?”

The boy shook his head. “Do you want to play?”

“Play what?”

“I don’t know.”

Wels looked down at the sword in his hand, a wooden thing with rounded edges, chipped and dented from countless hours of play. He lifted it to the boy, showing his weapon off, standing on his tiptoes to go higher. “I have a sword.”

The boy nodded. He ducked down, reappearing shortly after with a sword too, but more colorful than Wels’ wooden sword. “I have a sword too!”

Wels beamed, “We can play knights!”

“Okay!”

The boy ducked again, Wels fixated on the top until the boy slid down, drawing his attention down at the boy who stood in front of him now. Wels blinked a couple times, tilting his head back left and right, which made the other boy conscious. It was hard hard to ignore, the prosthetic arm and leg—

“It’s not fair,” Wels said eventually, the boy looked at him confused. He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, “Your sword is new!”

The boy blinked, almost surprised, then lifted his sword in front of his face, offering it to Wels. 

“You can use mine,” Wels said as he took the colorful sword, grinning at it. “My name is Wels, and I am a knight.”

“I’m Xisuma.” 

Wels nodded, “Okay. Do you want to be knight too?”

Xisuma hummed, placed a finger on his chin in thought, “I can be a space pirate!”

Wels tilted his head, “But pirates are bad people. They steal stuff. That’s not nice.”

“But you are a knight. You can be the good side.”

“And then we switch?”

Xisuma nodded. 

Wels was convinced. They set off quickly, playing off on the playground, chasing and running after the other, laughing together. 

_____

hi hello i have the most horrible case of baby fever, but in the flavor of making the cubitos babies. irl babies? no thank you. giving them babies? no thank you. making them babies? yes please gimme also, how many times can i say i will sort out my tags and not do it until i become a liar. it's silly, funny but silly. and so so so stupid too lol

[fulcrvm]

Last Line Tag Game

Thanks for tagging me @teejaystumbles ! A really nice surprise!! :D I am indeed contemplating writing two Dead Boy Detectives fic right now, but they're both in the very early 'being-outlined-in-my-head' stage, haha. They both revolve around post-s1 Edwin pining for Charles, one where Edwin takes matters into his own hands and one where he decides to have a chat with the Cat King about it. Not sure if they'll ever be written but they're intriguing!

But for the sake of the tag game, here's a lengthy bit from a Dreamling wip I've slowly been chipping away at for a few months!

A scene from Every Little Thing (Working Title)— In which Morpheus is a figure drawing professor who has just been fired from a film production based on his comics, and Hob does part-time figure modeling and is determined befriend the aforementioned professor.

Morpheus picks his class schedules wisely— he runs two first year general figure drawing classes, at 8 a.m. and at noon on Mondays and Thursdays. He helps the uni’s live figure workshop club on Wednesdays and Fridays at 6 p.m., and meets his sister for lunch on Wednesdays. All other free time was dedicated for his industry work. That wouldn’t be a concern anymore, would it. By the time Morpheus unlocks the door to the studio, sets his bag down by his desk, and starts fiddling with the ceiling studio lights pointed at the model stand, all of Morpheus’ thoughts have reduced to pure spite. Fine, maybe the big studios don’t want him. They don’t deserve him, then, their loss. His portfolio and repertoire are infamous in the industry, they’ll be crawling back to him in no time. Too bad, maybe he would have started his own production studio and he’ll end up with the next ground-breaking animated film. Maybe— Morpheus’ thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. He shakes himself out of it, calling, “Come in.” A glance at his watch tells him it’s only 7:48, perhaps it’s an overeager student here early. It’s only the second week of the semester, they grab every opportunity to prove themselves with a spirited step that Morpheus might be slightly envious of. “Hello, Morpheus Endeles?” Hearing his full name startles Morpheus, and he turns from the lighting settings to the door. “Yes?” The man who steps into view can only be described as radiant. He can’t be much older than Morpheus, not much taller either but wider in the shoulders. His hair is cropped just above his shoulders and he sports a neatly kept beard. Morpheus registers this all first simply because of his profession but— he gets caught on the man’s brilliant smile and deep brown eyes. There’s something there that knocks all thoughts clear out of Morpheus’ head. The stranger smiles warmly, smiles like he already cares. “I’m here to model for the morning and noon figure classes?” The man says. Morpheus clears his throat and steps forward, “Yes, this is the right studio.” He extends a hand, “Robert Gadling, I presume?” The man takes his hand— god, he’s so warm— and shakes it steadily, “Please, call me Hob! All my friends do.”

I'm a sucker for the 'Morpheus catalogues Hob's appearance during their first meeting' trope in most Dreamling human AU fics, I couldn't not do it too :]

Besides this, I've also got a Dreamling Velvet Goldmine-ish AU fic that I want to get done this summer. I'm a very slow and ruminative writer so let's see if I can commit to any of these fics now that I've posted about them lol!

No pressure tags! I have no idea who's been tagged recently so-- lol. @hardly-an-escape @valeriianz @moorishflower @amielot :)

[minigirl87]

I see you, I’ve always seen you with Steven Grant.

Steven Grant & FReader

I wrote this as pure self-indulgence as I've had a bad day and needed some steven comfort. Not proofread or edited, sorry. But I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to leave feedback 😊 I have the fanfiction bug now. This is my second fic. Please be gentle with me.

Summary:

Reader has had a bad day and is fed up, until Sweet Steven saves the day. Mentioning and appearance of Donna.

Word count: 688

No warnings, sfw. Pure fluff, kissing

You sat in the break room, tears ready to spill down your hot cheeks. You’d had enough now, as much as you loved the gallery, you had finally snapped with how you were treated, and to add insult to injury a child had thrown a cup of juice over you. The parents say between them with a laugh “it’s just the cleaner”.

Those words swimming through your already anxious mind. When the door opens to reveal Steven with a v, from the gift shop. Sweet Steven with the most heartwarming smile and stories of ancient Egypt. The only person you feel acknowledges you as a human. Who talks to before and after your shift when you both walk for the same bus.

He sits next to you, fumbling with his bag and getting his lunch. You fiddle with your fingers trying to occupy yourself, staring into space. “Hello Y/L, you OK, love?” And that was it the dam broke within you, “no I’m not, I’m sick of this” you reply frantically, wiping your eyes. “oh Love, what’s happened? Has Donna said something to you?” he reaches out to you but thinks twice and with draws. Steven understands how Donna is with you, only slightly lighter than how she treats him.

“ I want to leave, I’ve decided I’m walking out. I’m done with being treated like shit” you say as you suddenly stand up, feeling your uniform still damp and smelling sickly sweet of blackcurrants.

In a panic now, Steven clumsily stands up, knocking his chair over “what. No, you can do that love, please think about what you’ve just said. You take a few calming breathes as Steven reaches for some tissues sitting in a unit, grabbing a handful and giving you them. Your hand gently rubs up against his as you take them.

You sit back down with a glass of water. “ I saw what happened earlier with the.. eh “ he points to the stain on your front. You half smile at him, he smiles back, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and his beautiful chocolate curls bounce lightly. “ it doesn’t matter I’m just a cleaner. That’s what they said”. Stevens face turns sour at this, you continued “ no one sees me anyway, as long as everything clean, no one cares do they” you can feel tears welling up again that’s until “I see you love”

You look at him, his dark eyes shining with sincerity. “Steven, thank you. I know you always acknowl” He cuts you off “ “I see you. I’ve always seen you love” And suddenly, a rush of serenity flows over you. “Steven, you really mean that? Steven reaches for your hands and ever so gently takes them in yours. “ Yes, love. From the moment I saw you, I knew you were special but I never knew how to tell you”.

“oh Steven love, I feel the same way about you” you smile, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand. “can I kiss you please love?” he asks, eyes never leaving yours. “yes please love” As you both lean into each other, noses brushing together as you entwine, he tastes of mint and smells like grapefruit. Gently Steven pulls away and cups you chin “my beautiful girl” to which your reply “my handsome boy”.

“Finally” you both turn to see Donna staring “your both 5 minutes late back. I’m not paying you to snog. Get back to work. Oh, and Y/N remember you are important to the team and won’t treated that way again” as she turned on her heels, chewing her gum.

“She does have a heart” You laugh as you both get up. “so dinner after we finish, love? I’ll get you back here” Steven says, leaning in for another kiss. “looking forward to it already love” as you both have a quick peck.

“Stevie, Y/N. Move it now” Donna practically shouts. You both hear her, moving quickly and have a quiet giggle. As you look forward to being seen by the one you love.

@melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame @campingwiththecharmings @welcometostayingawake @missscarlettangel @missdictatorme @steven-grants-world @jake-g-lockley

[theladybarnes]

CHERRY BOMB: CHAPTER THREE

“There's more to life than stupid boys, you know.”

▸ summary: summer is meant for fun things. Shopping, swimming, hanging out with friends. Definitely not spent inside translating a secret Russian transmission.  ▸ characters: steve harrington, robin buckley, & dustin henderson ft party members ▸ word count: 6.6k         ▸ warnings: fluff, semi-angst ▸ series masterlist

“She cannot be serious.”

 “Dusty, she’s just sleeping..”

 “It’s nearly noon and she hasn’t seen me in weeks! She should be up by now!”

 A soft knock followed the murmuring voices outside your door, making you grumble a bit underneath your blanket. “GO AWAY.” you said loudly, still tired from having stayed out late the night before. The friends that Heather had urged you to meet last night turned out to be a lot more boring than you thought. 

 For a small town, there wasn’t much for youth to do around here. After sticking around the mall, and purposely ignoring the two pairs of eyes that watched you from Scoops Ahoy, you guys ended up going to parking lot Bradley’s Big Buy. Drinking from a single six pack that tasted watered down. It was something you’d have found fun in freshman year, but now? Things were different.

 Unfortunately, you still arrived late enough that you were sleeping into the next day.

 “That’s it. I’m going in.” 

 “Dusty, no!”

 The door to your room burst open and you flinched underneath the comfort of your blanket before poking your head out to see Dustin. Arms crossed with a heavy frown on his face. You can’t help but notice he’s wearing a ghastly neon hat with his camp’s name on it. 

 “It is nearly noon!” he said, crossing his arms. 

 “Hello, Dustin.” you muttered.

 “How can you just waste a day like this?”

 “I was sleeping well, thanks for asking.”

 “Get up!” he cried, moving over to push onto your shoulders now. “I need to see Steve and you’re the only one who can take me!” The bouncing has you feeling slightly nauseous and you quickly slap at his hands until he stops.

 “The bus stops right in front of the mall, actually, you should consider taking it.” you called out, knowing full well you’d still be taking him. It just bothered you having Dustin be so bossy so early, well, early in your waking up.

 “I need to get there fast.” You watched as he leaned in closer, the heavy smell of something sugary in his breath fanned over your face. “I have something top secret to show you two.”

 “Ugh, does it have anything to do with your nasty breath?!” Sitting up from the bed, you shove him back a bit and scoot off, reaching for the robe hanging on your desk chair. The last bit of his words hit you finally and you turned to face your cousin. “What secret?”

 “I’ll tell you, only if you take me to the mall.”

 You narrowed your eyes, hating him for having the upper hand in the conversation. “Fine.” You sighed defeatedly. “But after I take my shower.” 

 “Are you kidding me?” He cried out, trying to tug you towards your dresser. “You smell fine! Let’s just go, please!”

 “I’ll only take ten minutes.”

 “TEN?!”

 “Yes, Dustin! I need a couple of minutes to wash up and change so I don’t walk around being a gross booger like you!”

 He let out a shocked gasp making you stop your way from going towards the door. Turning around, you give him a small smile before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. Watching as his shock returned back to annoyance. “Just ten minutes, okay?”

 “TWENTY?”

 Laughing, you draw your hand back, giving  his arm a light teasing punch. 

 “Welcome back, jerk.”

  An hour later, the two of you are strolling through the mall, Dustin letting out little oohs and ahhs as he finally takes in the mall he briefly saw a while ago. You can’t help but check out your reflection at the store windows now and then. Hoping the lavender summer dress would make you stand out amongst some of the other people in the mall.

 For no reason whatsoever.

 “Come on, you’re taking forever!” Dustin whined, tugging your arm to force you into walking down the escalator. 

 “Geez, Dustin, you act like you haven’t been home in a year. It was just summer camp.” 

 He ignored your jab and continued to drag you with him until he reached the threshold of Scoops. Leaving you to follow after him as he excitedly approached the counter. Robin stared over at Dustin with a confused look, briefly nodding over at you before she returned her gaze to the boy before her.

 “Hi.” he greeted.

 “Hi.”

 “I’m Dustin.” he clarified. As if she should know what that meant.

 “I’m Robin.”

 “Pleasure to meet you. Uh, is he–is he here?”

 “Is who here?” 

 You count down from five in your head, knowing that some weird link will trigger inside of Steve and he’ll burst out that back room at any mom-

 “Henderson.” Steve said, holding his hands out. Dustin animatedly grows excited right before you, giggling as he points over to Steve. 

 “Henderson! He’s back!” Steve laughed, jumping up and down. Robin caught your attention, raising a brow at you as you moved over to join her against the counter. The two grow completely unhinged as they greet each other.

 “He’s back!”

 “I’m back!”

 “You got the job!”

 “I got the job!” 

 Steve imitates a trumpet and shakes at Dustin’s hand. This whole interaction only grows nerdier when the two pretend to fight with each other, making saber-like noises. You struggle to keep in the laugh that wants to come out. Finding the two of their reunion to be quite the spectacle 

 “How many children are you friends with?” Robin asked.

 It’s now that you can’t help but finally burst out into laughter. 

  “Okay, so Dustin is your..?” 

 “Cousin.”

 “But you guys do–”

 “Don’t look alike?” You finished again. “I’m adopted.”

 Robin stopped wiping down the counter with her rag to look over at you. The ice cream bar had turned into a complete mess when the two boys wanted to create the ultimate banana split. You decided to give them a few minutes to catch up while you helped Robin clean up some. 

 “I feel I’m always learning something new about you.” Robin said softly, restocking some of the bowls.

 “I guess I keep things interesting around here.” you shrugged.

 “Speaking of interesting things. Their relationship is pretty..unique, right?” she said, pointing over to the two boys. 

 You can’t help but laugh, wishing you could help give Robin some very important information on how these two started talking in the first place. But that would involve some heavy secrets that you did not want to involve the poor girl in. 

 “They’re dorks.” you said, smiling over at the two. “That’s for damn sure.”

 “So did Steve get close with him because.. You know?”

 You stopped your wiping to look over at Robin, confused by her question. “Know what?”

 Her eyes rolled a bit but before she gave a small frown of disgust.  “Because you and Steve are..dating.”

 You know over the container of straws you were cleaning by, making you quickly bend down and pick them up as you avoid her gaze. “Dating? Me and Harrington?” you laughed, stuffing the plastic into the bin roughly. “That’s insane. You’ve seen him hit on girls! You keep a score board.”

 “I know, but I always thought he was fumbling it on purpose.”

 “Trust me,” you said coming back up from the floor. “Steve does not want to date me.”

 “But you want to date him.”

 “I never said that.” you chuckled, still avoiding her eyes. 

 “So say it.”

 Robin peered over at you expectantly, like if she needed to hear the words come right from your mouth. When you didn’t say anything, leaned in closer. “Say you don’t want to date him.” 

 Something about the request threw you off completely. It would be so simple to say it and continue on with your day. But you open your lips to give out the answer and you remember the way Steve looked outside the Snowball dance. And how much you liked the way he looked down at you. Suddenly your throat felt dry. 

 “Hey Trouble!”

 The two of you looked back out into the dinning hall to see Steve waving you over. Sighing, you hand over the container to Robin before giving her a small pat on the back. “Sorry, looks like I’m needed.” 

 The two boys straightened up as you made your way to the booth. Steve scooting in closer to Dustin as you slide into the spot beside him. You lean forward, restiny your elbows on the table before you quickly swipe for one of the cherries on Dustin’s split.

 “You two boys enjoying your playdate?” you cooed, popping the sugary fruit into your mouth. Dustin rolled his eyes as he dug back in, muttering under his breath about you getting your own dessert. 

 Steve on the other hand, looked rather amused to have you by him. Casually slipping his hand down underneath the table. The slightly calloused tip of his fingers grazed at the hem of your dress, bunching it up slowly. “He’s just catching me up on all the fun he had over with his girlfriend.”

 “Oh right, the Phoebe Cates twin, right?” you asked, trying not to react too much to the secret touch.

 “Right,” Steve snorted, letting his fingers graze higher up your thigh. Your hands give away the effect Steve’s having with you as they shake when you reach for another cherry. This whole thing has you feeling nervous that Dustin might catch sight of the weird affection. Or worse, someone else in the store might.

 “Her name is Suzie and she’s better than Phoebe Cates.” Dustin clarified. 

 “Is that what you two called me over? To talk about Dustin’s girlfriend?” you asked, leaning back against the seat. “Because there’s a sale over at The Gap and I’ve been meaning-”

 “No more shopping!” They both shouted at the same time. Earning a frown from you. 

 “Geez, what’s the matter with you two?” 

 “We don’t have time for you to shop. Not when we’re about to save the country.” Dustin whispered, leaning in towards you two. Steve’s hand began to rub up and down. Almost as if he’s trying to sooth you over. It makes you wish you could cuddle into his side.

 “Save the country? I thought it was because she’s spending too much?”

 “Yes and no.” Dustin waved off. You rolled your eyes at that, brushing off his comment as he returned to his train of thoughts. “But back to what I was saying about glory.”

 “Glory?” you asked. “What glory?”

 “So last night we’re trying to get in contact with Suzie.”

 “Mm.” Steve hummed, giving a lazy smile with a thumbs up. Dustin seemed pleased before he leaned in closer to Steve’s side, covering up part of his face to conceal his mouth. He whispered the next words out to you both, sounding practically on mute. Neither of you seem to catch what he said.

 “What?” Steve whispered. Again Dustin repeated himself in the same quietness that has you growing irritated.

 “Speak up, genius.” you sighed.

 “Yeah, just speak louder.” Steve said, sounding just as done as you were.

 “I intercepted a secret Russian communication!” 

 The whole store peered over at the sudden outburst. Practically frozen in place as they turn to the cause of the sudden commotion. Holding your hand up, you try and turn your face away from their peering eyes, glaring over at Dustin. Steve casually just shushed him. Leaning forward on the table like what Dustin did was a normal thing. 

 “Jeez, shh. Okay, that’s what I thought you said.” he muttered. “What–what does that mean?”

 “It means, Steve, we could be heroes. True American heroes.” 

 “Ah, American heroes.” Steve mused happily, liking the sound of that.

 “Just think, you could have all the ladies you want.” Steve’s expression quickly turned from curious to excited, making you push his hand off your thigh, crossing your leg over to block its return. He glanced over worriedly before Dustin pulled him in closer. 

 “Think of all the attention you could get.” Dustin said, pointing over at you. “Boys would be lining up down the block just to get a glimpse of you.” 

 “That sounds terrible.” You retorted, not falling for his enthusiasm.

 “You guys could get all that and more.” 

 “More?” Steve asked.

 “More.”

 “I like more.”

 There’s a gleaming hopeful light that began to shine in Steve’s eyes and you couldn’t help but roll yours again. Knowing Dustin, whatever he had in mind had to be crazy. “Here we go.” you sighed, reaching over for a piece of waffle cone off the split. Breaking it in half, you pop a piece into your mouth, chewing slowly. “Just how are you guys gonna do that?”

 “Yeah, what’s the catch?” 

 “There’s no catch. And I think you mean how are we gonna do that?”

 “And what exactly are we supposed to do?”

 “I just need your guys’ help.”

 “With what?” Steve asked.

 Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out a worn out paperback displaying the front of the book. Romanov’s Russian - English - English - Russian Dictionary. A small smile began to grow on his face.

 “Translation.” 

  If you had to listen to this tape one more time you think you might actually go insane. The drawn out voice of the Russian man on the tape slowly and clearly spoke the same words over and over. It was making you nauseous! Either that or it was the strong smell of the third banana Steve was currently chowing down on. 

 Dustin reached out to stop the tape before it looped again. Looking over at you two expectantly. “So what do you think?” 

 “I think I regret not working today.” You whined rubbing at your temples. 

 “It sounds familiar.” Steve answered truthfully. 

 The two of you glanced over at him confused. “What?” you both said at the same time. 

 “The music.” he said through a mouthful of banana. “The music right there at the end.” Frowning, you shake your head to look back to the tape. Was there music playing the whole time? But to confirm that you’d need to play it back.

 “I don’t think I have the stomach to listen to the tape again for music.” you groaned, pushing yourself away from the table.

 “Why are you listening to the music, Steve?” Dustin asked, growing irritated. “Listen to the Russian! We’re translating Russian!”

 “Are we? Because listening to it eight times in a row doesn’t seem like translating.” He glared at your reply, pointing a finger at you in a warning. All you do is hold up your hands in defense. 

 “I’m trying to listen to the Russian, but there’s music–”

 “All right, babysitting time is over! You need to get in there.” Robin said, bursting into the room. You jump a little bit in your seat, but are still thankful for the disruption. The other two look shocked to see Robin coming in. As if they didn’t realize she was merely a sheet metal door away.

 “Hey, my board!” Robin cried out, walking over to the white board. She took in the sight of what the two boys had scrubbed off in order to place in the alphabet list they got from the book. You weren’t a linguist but you were pretty sure it wasn’t going to be much help without some knowledge of the language. But considering how sensitive the two were to your criticism, you kept shut about it.

 “That was important data, shitbirds!”

 “I guarantee you, what we’re doing is way more important than your data.”

 “I’m pretty sure both uses of the board aren't exactly important if I’m being honest.” You said while taking a peek into the book. None of the translations even looked familiar to what you’ve been hearing.

 “Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyways?”

 Dustin’s jaw slacked at her question, giving you a skeptical look before he turned to Steve. “How does she know about the Russians?”

 “I don’t know!”

 “You told her about?..”

 “It wasn’t me. Trouble?”

 You shake your head at their shock, knowing full well that they’ve not only been playing the tape on speaker, right by the register, but have absolutely no proper volume control when angrily working together. Robin thankfully takes the lead on helping them realize that.

 “Hello, I can hear you.” Her arms crossed over her chest as she looked over at the group tiredly. “Actually, I can hear everything. You three are extremely loud.”

 Now you can’t help but stare up at her shocked. “I’ve barely said anything!” you pouted, disapproving the fact that you’re grouped in with the noisy duo. Robin gently placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a sly smirk before she leaned in.

 “Don’t think I can’t hear you whining.” Returning her gaze over to everyone, she let you guys in on just how much she knew. “You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape, and you’re trying to translate, but haven’t figured out a single word because you didn’t realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do.”

 Everyone turned into a small stunned silence.

 “Sound about right?”

 You raise up a hand slowly, not one for letting people assume things about you. “I for one, do not believe there’s secret Russians trying to plot against us.” The others raised a brow and you simply shrugged a shoulder. “Just because we live in a small town doesn’t mean we have to think small.”

 “Yeah? And just what do you think it is?” Robin asked, peering down at you.

 “Could be Russians, yes, but possibly just caught on the wrong frequency. I bet the message is nothing.”

 She looked down at the table and before you could ask what she thought, she tried to reach out for the tape. But Steve’s killer reflexes kicked in and he managed to grab it before she could.

 “Whoa! What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, holding it close. 

 “I wanna hear it.”

 “Why?” they both asked. 

 “You mean we have to hear it again?” you frowned, pinching the bridge of your nose.

 “Maybe I can help. I’m fluent in four languages, you know.”

 “Russian?” Dustin perked up.

 “Ou-yay are-yay umb-day.”

 The two boys let out a small laugh, impressed with the words. You want to point out how it doesn't sound like Russian whatsoever, but Robin seemed to be on a roll so you let her take the wheel.

 “That was Pig Latin, dingus.”

 You snort a bit, finding the whole conversation to be a much needed break in the work you guys had been doing. Steve slapped Dustin with the banana, trying to shift the embarrassment off from him.

 “I can speak Spanish, French, and Italian, and I’ve been in band for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me.”

 “Wow, throw in Chinese and you’ll be able to speak to all the big allies of WW2.” you smirked, watching as the girl blushed a bit. “I’m guessing you’re able to learn things phonetically?” 

 “Something like that.” she chirped before glancing up at Steve. The boy seemed hesitant still, gripping onto the tape while she held out her hand.

 “Come on, it’s your turn to sling ice cream, my turn to translate. I don’t even want credit. I’m just bored.”

 As if on cue, the bell at the counter near the register began to ding repeatedly. Steve looked down at you, raising a brow in a silent question. All you can do is give a small smile and nod your head. Hoping Robin will help break some sort of crack in the translation.

 He pursed his lips at that before he looked down and took the sling from Robin’s hand, slapping the tape in its place. “Fine.” he sighed, adjusting his shorts before he moved over towards the door. But not before he grabbed your hand, tugging you out of the chair. “But you’re coming with me.” 

 You let out a small gasp, reaching your hand out for the table to Dustin and Robin. But all they did was wave you off while ignoring your pleas.

 “Wait, I don’t even work here! Let me listen to the stupid man again!”

  Steve would find out that he’d come to regret having you work beside him. Not only did you catch onto the work faster than he expected, but after working the register a couple of times, you started to take the lead on orders. For a while he seemed like he wanted to say something, but after taking his hat and slipping it on your head, he changed from annoyed to something you couldn’t quite place. 

 “Ahoy there! Welcome to Scoops! Would you fellas like to join me on a grand journey to find the ultimate ocean of flavor?”

 The three boys standing at the register burst out into enthusiastic laughs, clapping their hands a bit as they praised you for the theatrics. Kurt Michaels and some of his friends from the other night had decided to stop in, making a beeline when they noticed you at the register.

 “I’ll let you guide me anywhere, Henderson.” said Kurt with a dreamy sigh. It was a bit on the cringy side as far as reactions go, but since he was being nice, you smiled back at him. 

 “Perfect! Today we’re promoting some of my favorite flavors.”

 “Whatever you recommend, we’ll take it.” said the shorter of his friends. 

 Turning to Steve, you ignored the look of his sour face and pointed over to the ice cream bar. “Gilligan, the boys need three cones of Mint Chip, Bubblegum, and Orange Sherbet!” 

 He stared over at you, brows turned into a frown at you for the cheesy reference. But all you do is give him a sweet smile, raising a challenging brow. “Aye, aye, Captain.” he muttered, bending over to begin scooping. You turned back to face the boys, leaning in a bit towards them.

 “Isn’t Steve a good first mate, guys?” you cooed at them. “He’s been working so hard to help me out today.” They watched as you moved to rest your elbows on the counter, tapping at your chin as you faked being in hard thought. “I wish there was a way to help reward him. Don’t you guys agree?”

 They all had a glazed look in their eyes, leaning in together towards you in awe. Right when they were at your eye level, you reached to your right and grabbed the familiar can you’d been handling for the past hour.

 “I know!” you gasped, slapping the can in front of them. “You guys can give my good boy a tip.” 

 They jumped back a bit at the sudden noise, not expecting your solution to come right at them. But even despite the hesitance on their faces, each one slowly reached into their pocket and placed in a crumpled up one. 

 “Aww you guys are so nice! I love nice boys.” you smirked, turning over to place the can back in its hiding place. The reaction seemed to excite them, making them get the courage to ask what you knew would be coming up.

 “So you know, if you’re done helping Harrington, we’d love it if you’d come join us out–”

 “As much as I would love to join you guys and your shared six pack again,” you pouted, pressing the order into the register. “I’m unfortunately working the whole night.” Hitting enter for the order, you held out your hand, giving them another wide smile. “Now that’ll be three dollars and seventy-five cents, please.”

 Steve snorted, turning away from the group to go tamper with the containers that kept the hot fudge warmed up to cover up his amusement. Missing out on the daggers that the boys threw over at him. You waved them off, waiting until all their heads were out of view before bursting out into a giggle. 

 “I am killing this job!” you clapped, facing Steve now. He went back to lean against the counter, looking at you with that indifferent look.

 “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that you’re flirting with boys for tips. Or the fact that I kinda wanna tip you too.” 

 “It’s probably the dress. It makes people wanna tip.” You hummed, ruffling the edge a bit before peeking up in time to notice Steve taking in your outfit. 

 “It’s definitely more than just the dress..” 

 Laughing at his confusing statement, you wiggled the can in his face. Making sure he saw the growing green bills inside.  “I think by the end of the day I can get you and Robin a solid twenty to split.” 

 Steve’s eyes widened before he took a slow step forward, letting his fingers graze over yours when he took back the can. “And what about you? All this hard work and you’re leaving home with nothing?” 

 He towered over you the closer he got. The lingering scent of his cologne waved through the air, making you feel a little light headed. You make the mistake of looking at his shirt collar when avoiding his dark eyes and notice the small curls of his chest hair peeking through his shirt. A glorious sight that you couldn’t dive into at the moment.

 “I’m leaving with personal gratification.” You said, voice wavering a bit as he backed you against the counter. 

 “Oh? So there’s nothing I can do to repay you with for helping?”

 His hand brushed carefully up your arm, stopping at your shoulder. The heat of his fingertips feels like fire on your bare shoulder. Not one for appearing weak, you cock your chin up, giving Steve a small smirk. 

 “There’s definitely something I have in mind. But it depends.” Raising your hand up, you gently push back the front of Steve’s hair. Running your fingers through the brown locks before placing his hat back on his head.

 “On what?” 

 “If we can convince Robin and Dustin to give us a long break.” 

 Steve laughed softly, tongue flickering over his pulp lips as he tried to gain composure. His thumb brushed just under the edge of the neckline, tickling the sensitive skin. You part your lips a bit, angling your head up a bit as he leaned in slowly. Eyes closing up when a familiar voice suddenly interrupted him.

 “I think I’m gonna vomit.” 

 The two of you instantly jump apart. Fumbling over each other until you’re both turned around to find a grossed out Max and very happy El on the other side of the counter. Nervously, Steve walked over towards the ice cream, pretending to inspect the goods while you leaned over the counter. “What can we get you girls today?”

 Both girls looked over at the ice cream with a hunger in their eyes, both leaning in to whisper to each other before Max smirked up at Steve. “We’ll take a scoop of strawberry and vanilla with extra whip cream.” El leaned in to whisper in Max’s ear before the redhead nodded. “With sprinkles.” 

 “Coming up.” he sighed, grabbing the first cone.

 You smiled at his willingness before Max stepped forward. “So you’re working over at Scoops now? Thought you were a lifeguard?”

 “Oh I don’t work here, Dustin’s in the back trying to crack something he heard on the radio. I’m just keeping Steve company in the front while he’s working.”

 “Right, keeping company..” El mused softly. Max gave her a secret sort of smile before she returned her focus to you.

 “Well, what are you two doing here? I haven’t seen any of the other guys wandering around.” you quickly asked, scared of what might come out from Max’s imagination.

 “El here hasn’t really had the full blown mall experience. So we’re trying out everything.”

 You can’t help but gasp, sort of loving the idea of the two girls growing close doing one of the best experiences a growing friendship could have. A shopping one. 

 “Please tell me you two still have it in you for shopping.” you clapped, eager to try and join something you’ve been wanting to do for hours now. “I can totally get you two anything you want. Just let me come with you.”

 Max and El seemed a little taken back before they shrugged their shoulders, possibly okay with getting a free spending spree. That’s when Steve paused his scooping to look over at you. Jaw slacked with shock.

 “Shopping? You can’t go shopping!”

 “Oh c’mon, Steve. Let me go splurge!” you whined, looking at him with a sad frown. “This could be my payment for helping you out this whole time.”

 “B-but what about the thing we were just talking about?” he gaped, struggling with reaching over for you and holding onto the cones in his hands. You waved your hand, shaking your head slowly.

 “We can do that another time.” Turning back to the girls, you give them both a wide grin. “The stores are calling for us. They need me.”

 “I need you!” He exclaimed suddenly. The three of you turned quiet as the realization of his outburst slowly came to him. “I mean,” he coughed. “I mean I need you here..to help.” The girls both looked at each other as grins stretched over their mouths. Meanwhile you couldn’t help but feel the heat flare out on your face. 

 “We can do another mall day..soon.” El said softly, giving you an appreciative smile.

 “El’s right. We’re all spent out anyway. We’re just gonna catch the bus over to my house after this.” 

 You sighed at that, nodding your head before you reached over to restock the straws, asking them the details of their day. It wasn’t a few seconds into that the window to the backroom behind you guys creaked open. Robin poked through the other side, waving you over quickly.

 “We’ve got our first sentence.” she smiled. 

 Steve finished up his work before he joined you at your side. “Seriously?”

 “The week is long.” she said in a rough Russian accent.

 “Well that’s thrilling.” Steve said completely unimpressed. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit thankful for the lackluster start. Still hopeful for the message to be nothing.

 “The week is long.” you said nudging Steve with your elbow. “Seven days to be exact.” He rolled his eyes but still let out a small huff of amusement at you. Robin, ever the sudden optimistic, gave a small shrug.

 “I know, but it’s progress!” she chirped before sliding the door back close leaving you two to focus back on the order for the girls.

 “Okay, here we go, you got a strawberry and then a vanilla with sprinkles, extra whip cream.”

 The two girls gladly took the cones, getting out a quick thanks as they brought the dessert to their lips. Steve seemed to suddenly realize just who was standing before him before he spoke up.

 “Wait a second. Are you even allowed to be here?”

 The two of them shared yet another knowing look to each other as they giggled and quickly rushed out of the store. You couldn’t help but join in on the amusement as you watched Steve try and piece together what happened.

 “C’mon Gillian,” Patting his chest lightly, you point over towards the messy countertop. “Let’s clean that up.”

 “Quit calling me that!”

  Hours later, past the closing time of the mall, the four of you stood in the backroom of Scoops. Majority of the message had been translated and you’d be more impressed with Robin’s tenacity if it weren’t for the weird cryptic message. Together the group read it aloud.

 “The week is long, the silver cat feeds, when blue meets yellow in the west.”

 For a moment it’s pure silence as each one of you stared hard at the white board. Each person possibly trying to figure out what weird meaning could be behind the translation. Even with a slight interest, you still couldn’t think of anything it might be.

 “That..can’t be right” you sighed, breaking the silence as you rubbed at your temples.

 “It’s something.” Dustin tried, sounding tired. The two workers quickly locked up the backdoor to the breakroom, later ushering you both out towards the front of the store. With a hard tug, Steve pulled down at the metal gate. Pressing it down until it was against the floor.

 “She’s right. It just can’t be right.” he sighed, twisting at the lock. The other two stepped ahead while you waited behind for Steve to catch up. 

 “It’s right.” Robin urged. 

 Dustin quickly joined in with her. “Honestly, I think it’s great news.”

 “How is this great news?!” Steve asked, chuckling in frustration. “I mean, so much for being American heroes. It’s total nonsense.”

 Reaching out, you pat over at his arm, giving him a small tight lipped smile. “Don’t forget that more you were promised.”

 “Trouble, I could really use some sympathy here.” he whispered, looking actually disappointed. Checking that the two in the front kept walking, you reached over and grabbed Steve by the knot on his shirt, tugging him down to place a quick kiss on his lips. 

 “Better?” You asked softly, letting him go before either one of the two ahead could catch you guys. 

 “Getting there.” Steve said as a small boyish grin grew on his face. Dustin turned out briefly, causing you two to step away for a second as he brought back the focus to the conversation.

 “It’s not nonsense, Steve. It’s too specific. It’s obviously a code.”

 “What do you mean a code?”

 “Like a super secret spy code.”

 “That’s a total stretch.”

 “I don’t know, is it?” Robin threw in, joining in on their back and forth. She glanced between you and Steve before you settled with shrugging a reply to her. Steve only grew more frazzled with her reaction.

 “You’re buying into this?”

 “Listen, just for kicks, let’s entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What did you guys think they were gonna say, ‘Fire the warhead at noon’?” 

 “Exactly!” Dustin added.

 “And my translation is correct. I know that for sure, so..’The silver cat feeds.’ Why would anyone talk like that unless they’re trying to mask the true meaning of their message?”

 “Exactly.”

 “Why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?

 “Exactly.” 

 Steve only seemed to grow irritated at their tag team, mimicking their replies while they ignored his reaction.

 “So I guess that confirms your suspicion.”

 “Evil Russians.” Dustin confirmed.

 You can’t hold back any longer. Needing to play the skeptic of the group now that the majority was turning into conspiracists. Raising a hand, you clear your throat before speaking up finally. “Who’s to say that even with your correct translation, that this message isn’t just something..less extreme?”

 “Less extreme?” Steve asked.

 “Like the words are lost in the translation.”

 Robin for the first time seemed a little bit upset by your words, frowning over at you before nodding for you to continue. “So many times in history have words been taken out of context because of direct translations. We don’t know enough about Russian culture to just go ahead and say that whatever is said is directly a code for some sort of attack. It’s..creating prejudice.” 

 Dustin crossed his arms over his chest, looking at you shocked. “Prejudice, seriously?”

 “How do any one of us know that this transmission you’re so keen on hoping is Russian intelligence isn’t just some random person who got cross wired with your giant radio? It’s creating allegations that could quite possibly lead to something worse.” 

 “Oh please drop the law terms.” Dusting groaned. “I’m not without proof, ok? We have our recording and when we finish it, it’s gonna prove you wrong.”

 “I’m not exactly looking to be proved wrong, shithead. I’m just not looking to create trouble that might not actually be there.”

 “I can’t believe I'm about to agree with this strange child, but I think it’s totally evil Russians.” Robin laughed, trying to ease up the conversation again. You feel an anger begin to build up inside of you, but you push it down. Remembering that aside from this, Robin wasn’t a part of the previous horrors that happened since you’ve to Hawkins. 

 She had no past fears to worry about when diving into a crazy situation such as this. So all you could do is bite your tongue. Hoping that your streak of being right would come through again. 

 “So how do we crack it?” he asked Robin, sounding eager once more.

 “Well, I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges.”

 “A pattern. Right, like maybe “silver cat” is a meeting place?”

 “Or a person.”

 “Or a weapon.” 

 The idea of a weapon has your stomach turning and you turn to look at Steve, wanting him to join in on your side of putting down this idea. But when you do, you notice he’s no longer at your side. 

 Instead, he’s over at the small area filled with kiddie rides. He’s particularly stuck at one with a brown horse as its main attraction. Turning to go at his side, you follow his gaze over the name. ‘Indiana Rider’. 

 “Wanna clue me in on what we’re looking at?” you asked softly.

 “Hey, guys!” Robin called. “What are you doing?”

 “Uh, it’s a quarter. I need–” he turned to you. “Do you have a quarter?”

 “Does this dress look like it has pockets?” you frowned, holding out the sides to show the single seam on each side. He pursed his lips a bit before looking at the other two. 

 “Do you have a quarter?” They come over quickly with confused yet amused looks on their faces. 

 “Sure you’re tall enough for that ride?”

 “QUARTER!”

 Robin quickly reached into her pocket, chucking over the change. Steve easily catches it and kneeled down beside the machine, pushing the coin in. The horse instantly sprung to life, rolling forward as the light jaunty music played.

 “You need help getting up, little Stevie?”

 You and Dustin giggled a bit before Steve quickly shushed everyone. “Would you three just shut up and listen?” Hearing the seriousness in his tone, you pushed the hair away from your face and leaned down to join him at the ground. 

 The song continued to play and you hummed it quietly to yourself. Wondering just when had you heard it recently that it sounded so familiar. It’s not until it’s looped again that you’re suddenly hit with the answer.

 “Oh my God.” you whispered, snapping your fingers at Dustin hoping he’ll catch on. Thankfully, he does.

 “Holy shit.” he gasped. “The music! The music!” Rolling the straps of his backpack off his shoulders, he kneeled down to the ground. Digging inside quickly to pull out the tape recorder. The tape began to play out like usual, but this time, the music that Steve had noticed early on today matched perfectly with the horse beside you guys.

 A knot began to form in your stomach. This news wasn’t good at all.

 “I don’t understand.” Robin said, frowning over at you guys.

 “It’s the exact same song on the recording.”

 “Maybe they have horses like this in Russia.”

 “‘Indiana Flyer’? I don’t..I don’t think so.” Steve said, shaking his head. “This code, it..didn’t come from Russia.” 

 He turned to look back at everyone, a brief glimmer of worry etched on his face as he laid out the hard truth. 

 “It came from here.”

A/N: For some reason this was so hard for me to write! Please be kind on your thoughts and like if you enjoyed it! It means the world to me. ❤️

[sergeantsporks]

Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 21/?: Storytime

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6 , Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17,  Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21

In which none of the previous golden guards or wittebro died, actually, they're all fine and living happily together as one big dysfunctional family

Ao3

“Where’s King?!”

Phoenix swept one hand out. “Where you’ll never see him again! Unless…”

The Collector’s eyes narrowed. “Unless what?”

“I might give him back. If you do something for me.”

Oh, excellent, Odalia’s voice echoed in his head, Make him promise something as part of the game? What should our demands be?

“I’d never help you!” Collector shouted, “Never ever in a million years! Eda, now!”

Phoenix braced himself, but nothing happened.

“Eda?” Collector asked, “Hello?”

An older woman shuffled out of the trees, hobbling towards Phoenix. “Ah—you’re surrounded? Golden Guard?”

Collector heaved a sigh. “Awwww, you were supposed to drop out of the sky on him!!!”

The old woman shook like a leaf. “I’m s-sorry, I just c-can’t…”

Phoenix held out an arm for her to balance on. “Hey—maybe a break? Time out? Not everyone can—”

Collector sighed again, this time even bigger and more exaggerated. “Okay, I guess she doesn’t have to be Eda. Since she’s too old.”

The old woman’s spine stiffened. “No, please I can—”

Phoenix pushed her slightly behind him. “You don’t need to make her into a puppet—I’m sure she’d be happy to play another role, one that’s not so… active.”

“Nahhhhhh, being a puppet means her joints won’t be all hurting anymore. We can oil them, and they won’t be creaky and bad! It’ll be good! Boop!” The Collector snapped his fingers, and a moon shot out, zooming around Phoenix and hitting the old woman on her forehead. She stiffened, then fell into a relaxed position, her clothes dotted with stars. The Collector clapped his hands, and she disappeared. Phoenix’s stomach roiled.

Another loss.

“Where did you put King, Phoenix? This isn’t very fun now that we don’t have an Eda. I know! We can do one where you’re a good guy next!”

Phoenix squared his shoulders and turned to the blue tree next to him, holding up his hands. “King?”

King jumped out of the tree and into Phoenix’ arms. “Hey.”

“Aw, man, he was just in the tree?! Boy, you two are bad at hide and seek.”

“Why don’t we practice, then?” Phoenix suggested, setting King down,“We’ll hide, you seek.”

“Yeah,” King piped up, “Give us uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh five hundred seconds?”

“Better do a thousand. Just to be safe.”

“Hmmmm. Okay.” The Collector snapped his fingers, and about ten of his star spies appeared around him, blinking their red eyes in unison. “They’ll count, too!” He tugged his hat over his eyes. “One… two…”

Phoenix scooped King up and ran off into the trees. He took the necklace from Odalia off, hurling it into the trees.  “Test run, alright? Look for good places to hide in the area. Where will his spies have trouble seeing us, where he’ll have trouble seeing us—any hiding spot is good, but try to find some that will be big enough for all of us. If we split up, we’ll cover more ground.”

“Have you figured a way out of the archive house yet?”

“Working on it. Any chance Eda could fly us out?”

“Maybe? We need to turn her back first, though. The Owl Beast is unpredictable.”

“Which we need Lilith for,” Phoenix finished, “Right. Alright, see you in a bit.”

He set King down and ran in the direction he’d thrown the necklace, shaking the dirt off of it and dropping it back over his head.

What happened?!

“Dropped it,” Phoenix lied, “You know how it is.”

Mmm. What was that?

“What was what?”

Trying to protect that puppet?!

“She wasn’t a puppet yet.” Phoenix looked up, drawing a mental line from the archive house to his position. “The more allies we have the better.”

Yes, some help she’ll be. Don’t pretend you’re just ever so on board with my plans, you were outright refusing them two days ago. What’s your plan?

“Right now, my plan is to play hide and seek. And you’re noisy.”

Don’t you dare—

Phoenix lifted the necklace back over his head, tucking it in his pocket. Trees loomed on every side of him, but none of them offered much cover. Phoenix dipped his hand in a sparkling stream. Cold water. Definitely the Collector’s. Phoenix followed the stream through the trees. If they needed to stay in the Collector’s domain for long, they’d need a water source—and, at least, it was a feature that wouldn’t change.

The stream widened, turning to a rushing, roaring river that tumbled over a cliff in a waterfall. Phoenix squinted, shading his eyes. The river stretched onwards, snaking all the way out of the blue  trees and into the red.

“We can follow it out,” Phoenix mused out loud. Not that the world outside of the Collector’s territory was much safer, but it was a start.

“ONE THOUSAND,” Collector’s voice called, and Phoenix ducked back into the trees, scrambling into their branches.

He did not count to one thousand.

One of the Collector’s spies whirred through the air, sweeping the area. Its eyes fixed on Phoenix, blinking red.

And then it moved on.

Phoenix let out a deep breath. So. It’s eyesight is—

“Boo!”

Phoenix yelped, falling backwards. He locked his knees around the tree branch he was on, swinging upside-down. The Collector floated next to him, also upside down.

“Wow, you aren’t super great at hiding, my sentry spotted you in like. Four seconds.”

Phoenix reached up and grabbed the tree branch with his hands, letting go with his legs and flipping the right way up. He released the branch, dropping to the ground.

Never mind, then. Trees—not a good place to hide.

“Did you find King?”

“Mmmm not yet. He’s smaller, so I bet he found a better place to hide than you.”

“We should split up to find him,” Phoenix suggested, “Cover more ground.”

That way, I can keep mapping the area and looking for a way out of here.

“Oh, yeah, good plan! But how will we let each other know if we find him… Oh, I know!”

Collector snapped his fingers, and a bracelet appeared around Phoenix’s wrist, with a little pull string. “Pull it if you find him. It’ll let me know where you are! And I’ll send up a huge beam of light if I find him, you’ll definitely be able to see it. Okay, off we go! I’ll goooooo this way, and you go that way!”

Collector floated off into the trees, and Phoenix heaved a sigh of relief, pushing in the opposite direction. He looked up at the archive house again, judging the distance from the house to the tip of the titan’s horn. If he could find where the two were closest from inside the house, there would probably be a window. Maybe they could jump to the horn?

Risky. But if we can’t get Eda in flying shape, it might be our best bet.

Phoenix pressed onwards, trying to stick close to the stream.

I could run. Right now, I could run.

The thought hit him like a thunderbolt. The Collector was more occupied with King right now—he could follow this stream out to the regular isles and make his way back home from there before the Collector even noticed he was gone.

I bet King’s done it—I bet he’s already gone, he bolted for it while the Collector was looking for me.

Phoenix shook his head to clear it. “No,” he said out loud, “King wouldn’t leave without Eda and Lilith.”

Nothing’s stopping you, though…

“No,” Phoenix said more firmly, “I promised. I’m not leaving without—”

The bushes rustled ever so slightly, and Phoenix’s ears pricked up, moving up and down to pinpoint the noise.

Where… did…

A slitherbeast leapt out of the bushes, and Phoenix hit the dirt, rolling out of the way. He sprang back up to his feet, keeping his stance low.

“You’re far from home.”

Without the element of surprise, the beast paced in a circle, looking for an opening. Saliva dripped from its jaws, and it sniffed the air delicately.

Phoenix scooped up a thick stick, turning slowly to keep the slitherbeast in his line of sight. “You’re hungry,” he guessed, “The Collector’s been… well, collecting… all your possible prey. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have ventured out of the mountains, and you definitely wouldn’t have attacked an unfamiliar creature without provocation.”

It paced closer, and Phoenix swung, bringing the stick into its jaw. “I’m not dinner. Hunt something else.”

The slitherbeast yelped, scrambling away, but continued to pace a circle around Phoenix, panting. Phoenix glanced at the bracelet on his wrist. Would Collector actually come if he pulled it?

No. I can handle this.

The slitherbeast leapt again, this time turning its body midleap so that Phoenix’s retaliation swing glanced off of its side. A wall of fur slammed into him, sending him sprawling backwards. The slitherbeast pounced, and Phoenix had barely seconds to bring his feet up into its chest before it landed, pushing it up and over him. He scrambled back to his feet, looking for his stick and jamming it into the creature’s mouth before it could bite. Its jaws cracked straight through the wood, but its teeth scraped and screeched against the bracelet around Phoenix’s wrist, preventing it from biting his hand off.

Phoenix yanked his arm out of its mouth, but the pull tab snagged on the beast’s tooth, triggering the bracelet.

Fireworks shot out, one of them right into the slitherbeast’s mouth, and the others into the air. The slitherbeast shrieked, pawing at its mouth and whimpering. Smoke billowed out, but it still eyed Phoenix with that same dogged determination.

I’m the first living thing it’s seen in the last couple of days, Phoenix realized, It’s not going to give up, it’s too desperate.

Phoenix swung up into a tree, scrambling into the branches. It was too big to follow, hopefully it would—

The slitherbeast rammed its head into the tree, making the whole thing shake.

“Are you kidding me?! Fine! Knock yourself out, you—”

The trunk cracked up the middle at its next blow.

Great. Excellent, even.

Phoenix waited for it to ram into the tree again, and leapt out just as it did, landing squarely on its back. He wrapped his hands in its fur, yanking it to the side. “Just—” wham into a tree “—pass—” wham “—out!”

The slitherbeast dropped to its side, rolling onto its back. Phoenix let out a strangled yelp as all the air rushed out of his lungs with a whoosh. He clung to the beast tighter as it rolled over, shaking itself to dislodge him, then flopped on its back again. This time, Phoenix let go, wheezing for air. He scrambled backwards, hands clawing at the ground for something, anything to use as a weapon as the slitherbeast stalked towards him.

“HEY!” a familiar voice called, and a blue star landed between Phoenix and the beast. Collector crossed his arms. “Bad dog!”

“Get—away!” King yelled. A soundwave blasted out of his mouth, slamming into the slitherbeast and knocking it through the nearest tree. Collector held out his palm, and a crescent moon floated above it.

“Bye-bye!”

The moon shot out, slamming into the slitherbeast’s face. It dropped to the ground, a lifeless stuffed animal.

“WHOO! Got it!” Collector spun the star, kicking his feet over the edge. “Yeah!”

King hopped off of the star, rushing to Phoenix’s side. “Are you okay?”

“Just bruised,” Phoenix wheezed, “Thanks.” He glanced at the Collector. “Both of you.”

Collector put one foot out, stopping the star. “Yeah, I saved you! Again! You are very good at getting in danger. You know, King, you’re right, it kind of IS fun to save mortals who get in trouble. Anyway, should we play another round of hide and seek? This time I should hide.”

“Maybe—maybe we should go back to the archive house?” King suggested.

“Awwwwwwwwwwww, why?”

“Because we just had… a bit of an adventure.”

“But we go on adventures all the time!”

“We go on pretend adventures. Phoenix was actually in danger and could have gotten really hurt! After real adventures, we have to take a break. Right, Phoenix?”

Phoenix nodded. “ After serious missions, I always took a nap, or at least didn’t go back out in the field for a bit.”

“Wow. Being mortal sounds tiring. Okay, okay, we’ll go back.” The Collector’s star expanded. “Everyone on.”

Phoenix shuddered as the star rose into the air, pushing through the treetops. “This thing needs a harness.”

“Haha, are you afraid of heights?”

Phoenix gripped the edge of the star. “A little,” he squeaked.

The star tilted, then rushed forward with a whoosh, streaking towards the archive house and coming to a stop in front of the staircase and Odalia. Phoenix wobbled off the star, leaning against the stairs to balance himself.

“Hey, Mamadalia.”

Her lip curled. “Aren’t you a little old to be calling me ‘Mama’?”

“You’re saying that you’re not old enough to be my mother?”

King grabbed Phoenix’s hand while Odalia spluttered, leading him up the stairs. “Okay, that’s enough.”

Collector floated after them. “Whatcha doing? Where are we going?”

King tugged Phoenix back to the room with the tiny planet, pulling box of Band-Aids out from under his bed, and gingerly plastering them on all of the tiny scrapes from Phoenix’s fight. “Wow, you really got banged up.”

“Ehhhhhhhhhhh, I’ve had worse.”

King pulled up Phoenix’s sleeve to get at a scratch under a rip. “Hey, what happened to your arms? Have they been like this the whole time?”

“Oh.” Phoenix fidgeted with the bandage. “Belos. It’s… it’s fine, they’re healing on their own.”

King started to unwrap the cloth, and Phoenix batted his hand away. “Uh-uh, not a Band-Aid wound. Too messy. Here, look, right here.” He moved his hair out of his face, showing another little scratch on his forehead. “There’s one.”

King stood on his tiptoes to reach, plastering another Band-Aid on the wound. He tapped his own skull where bandages did their best to cover up a crack. “There. Now we’re boo-boo buddies.”

“Heh. Thanks.”

“Boo-boo buddies!” Collector exclaimed, “I want to be a boo-boo buddy! I want to do one!” He scooped up one of the bandages, removing the paper and pasting it on another scratch on Phoenix’s knee. He thrust another Band-Aid into Phoenix’s hands. “Okay, okay, now I get one!”

“Um…”

“You don’t… have a boo-boo?” King reminded him.

“Hrngh. I! Want! To Be! A boo-boo! Buddy!” Collector squinted at his arm, glaring viciously, and slowly, a scratch appeared, leaking inky blue blood that swirled with purple and glittered with starlight. “Ow!” His eyes bubbled up with tears. “Ow, ow, that’s… ow, I don’t like it, ow—”

Phoenix tore open the bandaid, carefully pasting it over the wound. “There. There, all better.”

“Now you’re a boo-boo buddy! Welcome to the club.”

Collector scrubbed at his eyes. “It hurts,” he whined, “It feels bad.”

“Uh-huh,” King agreed, “Doesn’t feel very nice.”

Collector squished Phoenix’s cheeks in his hands. “How are you not dead?!” he yelled, “You got like, a BILLION boo-boos, and you’re all soft and squishy and mortal!”

Phoenix shrugged. “You get used to it.”

Collector flopped backwards onto his bed. “I don’t want to get used to it,” he grumbled, “It feels horrible, and I hate it.” He rolled onto his stomach, kicking his feet. “Hey, Phoenix? Do you know any good stories?”

“Um… I know a lot of stories about… the golden guard before me and Belos and how they destroyed… you know what, come to think of it, those are not kids’ stories.”

“I don’t want a story about Phillip.”

“Yeah, me neither. Uhhh, let’s see… there was this one… I don’t know, legend? Fairy story? That they used to tell us before bed.”

“Us?” King echoed, “They?”

“Mmm.”

“Story,” Collector urged.

“Yeah. Right, story. Let’s see, how did it go… Once upon a time, there were two brothers, who loved each other to the sun and back. They did everything together, all their chores, their play, their walks... Then one day, the younger couldn’t find his older brother anywhere. He searched high and low. He asked the birds, ‘where has my brother gone?’ but the birds did not reply except to sing their song. He asked the boiling waters ‘where has my brother gone?’ but the sea only bubbled and hissed in reply.”

Collector snuggled into his blankets, watching Phoenix.

“Finally,” Phoenix continued, “the younger brother asked the isles themselves, ‘where has my brother gone?’ and the bones responded, ‘far in the forest, a witch with evil design has her in his grasp.’ The younger brother traveled to the witch’s home, but try as he might, he could never get past her traps. He cried out in frustration, and his tears attracted the attention of the stars. And the stars felt bad for him and gave him a single seed. ‘Plant this seed,’ the stars told him, ‘and surely, you will find your brother again. But do not speak to what grows a single word, or else your brother shall be lost to you forever.’ So the younger brother planted the seed, and out of the ground sprang a knight, clad in black armor and carrying a great sword.”

“Like the sky without stars?” Collector piped up.

“Like a sky without stars,” Phoenix agreed, “The brother didn’t say a word, only turned to go back to the witch’s home. Her first trap was a raging river that the brother couldn’t cross, but the knight in black armor dove in, walking through the river to the other side and lowering a bridge to the brother. And when the brother crossed the bridge, he saw that the river had washed away the black from the armor as if it had been soot, revealing armor of bronze. But the brother said nothing, not even a word of thanks, just as the stars had instructed.”

“Then what?”

“Well, then there was a thicket full of brambles surrounding the witch’s home. The brother couldn’t go into them without being scratched to death, but the knight waded through them, ignoring how they got into chinks in his armor and made him bleed, and he cut a path through for the brother. And when the brother got to the other side, he saw that the knight’s armor had been scrubbed of rust by the thicket, and was now silver. But he didn’t say a word to the knight, didn’t ask if he was hurt from the thicket, or even comment on the silver of his armor, just as the stars had instructed. Finally, they came close to the witch’s hut, when a ferocious dragon sprang out at them. The knight and the dragon fought for hours—”

“Hours?!” Collector interrupted.

“Yeah. Hours.”

“What did the brother do that whole time?!”

“He sat on a rock and watched, I guess.”

“That’s too long to fight a dragon!”

“Alright, alright, fine, the battle raged for fifteen minutes before the knight slew the dragon, is that better?”

“Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Glad you approve. Anyway, the brother saw that the fire of the dragon had molded into the armor, and the knight was clad in gleaming gold. Still, the brother said nothing to him, did not ask if he was burned, or say how beautiful his armor had become, just as the stars had instructed. The brother and his knight rushed into the witch’s home, and the knight quickly sliced the witch in two. The brother ran all over the house, but he could not find any sign of his brother, dead or alive. Enraged, he picked up the knight’s sword, and cut off the head of his faithful servant.”

“WHOA!” King protested, “What?!”

“Give me a second! Anyway, the knight fell to the ground, and from his armor, his brother sprang. ‘Finally,’ his brother said, ‘I am free.’”

“WHAT?!” Collector yelled.

“Do you want this story or not?”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh. Keep going.”

“‘The witch cursed me into a seed, a curse that could only be broken if I slew her, and if you proved your devotion to getting me back, even if it meant staying silent and letting your actions speak for you.’ And so, the brothers returned home, and they lived happily ever after. The end.”

“Why did slicing his head off turn him back?!” Collector demanded, “That’s stupid! Why did he cut the knight’s head off, even though he did everything for him?! Why did being mean get him his brother back?! I think he should have never gotten to see his brother again after he sliced the knight’s head off!”

“It’s part of the story! He had to kill him!”

“Why couldn’t he talk to him?!”

“He had to prove—it’s just part of it, the brother had to go through trials, and the younger brother couldn’t say anything, and at the end, the witch and the knight… had… to…die…”

You have got to be kidding me.

Phoenix buried his face in a pillow. “Oh.”

“Phoenix?” King asked, “Buddy?”

“Ohhhhhhhh, my titan,” Phoenix groaned, “It’s a Phillip story. That’s a Phillip—urgh—the brothers—the witch is Evelyn, or maybe just magic—the golden knight—the golden guards—he kills the knight to get his brother back, the knight—it was all a—"

“Maybe you’re reading into it a little too much?” King suggested, “I mean, a seed from the stars?”

“Oh, no, that part’s totally real,” Collector piped up, “I’m the stars. I helped Phillip with the grimwalker recipe. You’re welcome.”

“What?!”

“He said he was going to make more players. And he did! And then he destroyed them. Which does not make very good playmates, you are much more fun alive.”

Phoenix got up, bouncing to the window. “Okay. Alright. Okay. I… need a moment.”

Odalia stood outside the door. “Well, wasn’t that an interesting little story.”

“I am not in the mood,” Phoenix snapped. He shoved her necklace back at her. “Take that, I don’t need you in my head right now.”

He stalked through the hallways, checking each window.

It was always him. Every second, it was always him, getting in my head.

There. The horn. It was a substantial drop, but not a deadly one. Phoenix leaned against the windowsill with a sigh.

Just don’t look down, and you’ll be fine.

“Phoenix?” King tapped his claws together, sitting on a star with Collector. “You okay?”

“Not really.”

“Where’d you hear that story, anyway?”

Phoenix twisted his hands around each other. “Some of the older kids. They heard it from the adults. Who I guess got it from some standard-issue imperial propaganda storybook.”

“What, older kids in… the coven?”

“No. In the orphanage where I grew up.”

“Oh. I… didn’t know.”

Phoenix shrugged. “A lot of people died in Belos’ crusade against wild magic. From both sides. There was… an imperial orphanage for kids whose parents died in the war. Turns out, I didn’t have parents at all, but I didn’t know that at the time.” He chuckled dully. “Now I’m wondering if the whole thing was made up just so Belos could keep me in one place and feed me stories about being a good little soldier who didn’t complain. Is that conceited?”

Collector hugged his knees to his chest. “What happened to the orphanage?”

“It burned down just before I joined the coven.”

King’s eyes widened. “Oh. That’s… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Phoenix moved away from the window. “When I was there, I was just a powerless kid that no one else wanted. Even they didn’t want me, but they had to keep me. I was glad to leave it behind.”

Collector jumped off the star, wrapping his arms around Phoenix’s neck and his legs around his waist in a piggyback hug. “That’s stupid. They were stupid. I want to keep you, even if you don’t have powers like me and King. We’re going to be friends forever and ever until the sun collapses into a black hole and swallows us all.”

Phoenix’s sore muscles and ribs protested at the weight, but he just walked back towards the bedroom, clasping his hands behind his back to support the Collector. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome! Your story was. Okay. I didn’t like the ending, though.”

“I’m thinking I don’t like it so much, either.” Phoenix let him down. “I’m taking a walk.”

“Don’t stay up too late. We have lots more adventures planned for tomorrow.”

“Right. Good night.”

King stopped just before he followed the Collector to bed. “Phoenix? What happened to everyone else? At your orphanage?”

“I… don’t know. Once I joined the coven, they told me not to look back. And I didn’t.”

“Huh. Okay. Good night.”

“Night, boo-boo buddy.”

Phoenix trotted back down the stairs, leaning against the wall with a sigh.

I want to keep you.

Phoenix patted his face. “No,” he said firmly, “You are not feeling bad about running from the crazy kid who is keeping you hostage and turning people into puppets. Not allowed. Besides, we need to check in on the others. And let them know we’re alright. And where Jason is, they are probably frantic about him right now. You cannot start feeling bad about leaving. He’s unpredictable and every day here is a risk you get turned into a puppet. Or worse.”

He destroyed Belos in an instant without any remorse.

What will he do to you if he finds out what you’re planning?

“We’re getting out of here,” Phoenix said out loud.

No matter what.

[unfortunate-arrow]

𝐀 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

A/N: For @hp-12monthsofmagic’s September prompt (“Hoggy Warty Hogwarts”). Set in July of 1905.

“Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen,” Colm O’Shea murmured as he stared ahead at the crucifix that hung in the orphanage’s small chapel. It was nowhere near as grand as St. Mary’s across the street, but it held the crucifix and the stained glass portraits of the Virgin Mary and the orphanage’s namesake, St. Jerome. 

“In nomine patris et filius et spiritus sancti,” he murmured, making the sign of the cross as he rose from the pew as a sign of finished morning prayers. Not that he had done them correctly. He’d not recited the Hail Mary, but the proper wording eluded him, and the Our Father was recited during each day’s mass.

“Ah, good to see that you have finished your prayers, Mr. O’Shea,” Sister Patrick, one of the friendlier nuns, said as she entered the chapel. “You have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Colm echoed, his stomach twisting at the idea. “My ma?” 

“No, not your mother. A man, who dresses like he’s quite important”

“Oh.” He sighed. 

“Come along. We don’t want to keep someone like that waiting.” 

Colm nodded and followed Sister Patrick to the drawing room. It was probably the nicest room in St. Jerome’s, as the children were kept out unless someone important requested to visit with them. Not even the priests were important enough to warrant a reception in the parlor. Colm had always assumed that only Pope Pius X would be important enough for the parlor. Or maybe the king, but why would the king come to see the son of insurrectionists? Hell, why would anyone be interested in the son of insurrectionists?

They were standing outside the parlor before Colm had even noticed that they’d crossed half the building. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and entered. The parlor was bright, with wide windows, and a coat of blue paint. A man, dressed in a sharply tailored but slightly odd suit looked up and offered Colm a smile and a gesture to sit down. Colm swallowed but tentatively sat down on the couch opposite the man.

“Hello, you must be Colm O’Shea. I am Caesar St. James, a professor,” the man said.

“Hello, Professor St. James. May I ask why you are here?” Colm asked. 

“Well, Mr. O’Shea, I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Colm let out a laugh. Witchcraft? Wizardry? 

“I wouldn’t be so quick to write it off, Mr. O’Shea. Magic does exist.”

“Magic, like turning water into wine? Or like I’ll make this disappear?”

“Well, I’ve never tried turning water into wine, but I can make things disappear.” 

Colm crossed his arms, his brown eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Show me.”

Professor St. James pulled out a long and thin stick of wood and murmured something as he waved it. The light went out. A second later, accompanied by a murmur, the lights were back. Colm nodded, trying not to look impressed.

“So, you’re saying that I’m magic?” he asked.

“Yes. Haven’t you noticed strange things happening around you?” Professor St. James asked.

“I have, but it’s either the devil or a saint.” 

“It’s neither dear boy. You have magic through your bones and you will be educated at Hogwarts, starting in September. You will turn eleven on August 27, correct?”

“Yes. But me? The son of insurrectionists? And why should I take your word as a bloody Englishman? The words of an Englishman mean nothing to me.” 

“Here is your letter, Mr. O'Shea, although you should watch your language. Most of my colleagues are a lot less tolerant of that language.” 

Professor St. James handed Colm a thick envelope. He took it with great care and suspicion. He opened it gradually, wedging a finger underneath the seal. 

“Dear Mr. O’Shea,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Caesar St. James

Deputy Headmaster,” he read aloud. There was more, but Colm couldn’t tear his eyes away from the letter.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Not really, Mr. O’Shea. It can be dangerous for a young wizard to not cultivate their magic skills,” Professor St. James replied.

“Fine. I’ll go to your stupid bloody school.”

“Pleased to hear that Mr. O’Shea. And, given your circumstances, I will send someone to accompany you to purchase your supplies and to be sure that you reach the platform.”

“What about the sisters?” 

“Ah, I shall explain that your parents left a trust with a prestigious school in Scotland.”

“My mother and father were convicted of planning to commit treason. There should be no money.”

“Ah, we’ll handle it Mr. O’Shea.”

Colm eyed the professor warily. Six years in an orphanage along with the reputation of being both the devil and a saint had brought on a large dose of suspicion. 

“And you’re not part of the government?” he asked.

“No, the ministry of magic and Hogwarts are separate from the non-magic, or muggle, governments. Although, there is cooperation between our two governments,” Professor St. James replied.

Colm nodded warily. It wasn’t a response that inspired a lot of confidence. At least, not for Colm.

“Well, I’ll be writing to you to inform you about who and when you’ll be going to get your school supplies. Until September, Mr. O’Shea,” Professor St. James extended his hand and Colm reached out to shake it.

“Bloody Englishman,” he muttered under his breath as he followed Professor St. James out of the parlor. “Bloody magic. Bloody Hogwarts.”

[rebelrebelwrites]

Did someone already ask about Oak Park for the WIP game?

They did not, and I appreciate you asking! Summoning all of my emotional fortitude to answer this because hello anxiety (cue the Jason Isbell song), but this one is my current WIP; an original novel.

The Summary: Historical preservationist Charlotte Harper accepts an assignment in Oak Park, Illinois to authenticate an unprecedented find: letters found between famous architect Frank Lloyd Wright's first wife, Catherine, and his most maligned (and first female) employee, Marion Mahony. When the letters stand to prove that much more was between the two women than previously believed, Charlotte sets out to unravel the true history... the only thing standing in her way? Sam, the self-satisfied but infuriatingly charming preservation carpenter on the project, who found the letters in the first place.

The Gist: A story told in 2 parts—of self-discovery and romance for Charlotte and Sam, as well as Marion and Catherine in the not-too-distant past.

The Snippet:

"What are you doing here?" Charlotte asks.

"You know, I think that's the second time today you've asked me that," Sam says. A trickle of shame shivers down Charlotte's back, but she ignores it.

"It’s still a valid question," she says.

"What do you think, Charlie?" he asks, a little exasperation bleeding into his amusement. "I live here."

“You... live here,” she repeats.

“Funny, we didn’t use to have an echo in here,” he smarms. “Yes. Me and Philly boy, Philly boy and I. Frank’s the first floor, we’re the second. Assume you’re taking the attic?”

“Well, I was,” she says. “Now I’m not so sure.”

“C’mon now, Chuck. You don’t need to worry about me.” Laughter lights up his eyes, and she notes green threaded with specks of gold. “I’ve already forgiven you for this morning. No need to be embarrassed. Besides–” his tongue flicks between his teeth, a teasing taste of his own smile. “I like a woman on top.”

His grin grows. Glows. Charlotte can’t help but stare at the sheer gall of it.

“Wow,” she manages. “You’re. Wow.”

“Effortlessly charming? I know, I know. But we should keep this professional.” He winks—again—before bursting into real laughter at the look on her face: something halfway between horror and disbelief.

“Relax, relax,” he says, “Look, I’m sorry, but you make it too easy.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll be good, yeah?”

Charlotte sighs, low and long. “Professionalism. Right.”

She turns toward the narrow stairway, but before she can steal away, Frank emerges from the entrance to his apartment, dark eyes darting between them. 

“Oh! Sam, good. I just found the key to Charlotte’s apartment. Do you mind showing her? The stairs–”

“No worries, Frankie. I got it. D’you–?” Sam bends a little to rub at Phil the Great’s belly, letting go of his leash. Wordlessly, Frank beckons the dog forward with a few light taps on his thigh. Charlotte can’t help but be impressed when he immediately obeys, padding forward into Frank’s apartment.

“He can keep me company for a bit,” Frank agrees. He hands Sam a key before turning to her. “I hope you don’t mind. These stairs are a bit tricky for my old knees.”

“Of course; I don’t mind. Not at all,” Charlotte says, still halfway up the first step.

“Bless you,” he says, mustache twitching. “Let me know if you have any questions once Sam’s done showing you around.”

“I will. Thank you.” He nods, then shuffles back into his apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar. Charlotte stares after him, feeling a bit bereft until warm knuckles nudge her elbow. 

She starts; looks over her shoulder at Sam, her brain short-circuiting a little at the unexpected touch and how close he’s hovering behind her. He meets her stare with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Only one way to go, Chuck,” he says, tilting his chin up. The movement draws her attention to his throat; the bob of his Adam’s apple, and a spiky something scratches in her chest before she shakes her head, pushing it away.

Her spine stiffens. “Right,” she says. She turns forward and starts to climb.

She’s glad she didn’t force Frank to show her the apartment as they wind their way up the narrow staircase, passing what must be Sam’s place on the second floor, before ascending to the attic. 

The third-floor landing is definitely cramped. Sam has to stoop to avoid hitting his head, and they're a little closer than Charlotte considers comfortable, crowding each other and the apartment entrance: another door that's too big to be there, despite looking original.

"Well, this is it," Sam says. He grins, gestures to the door, then stoops even more to fit the key in the lock and push it open. She watches him duck through, following with uncertain footsteps.

Thankfully, the apartment itself is a bit bigger than the landing. Sam has to move to the middle to avoid brushing his head against the ceiling, but he can stand upright, at least. She notes low light, a tiny kitchen—barely more than two burners and a slim fridge—and to her right, a tight hallway she hopes leads to a bathroom and a bedroom.

To her left, a small living room—dim, too, but awash in dancing color. Charlotte beams as she weaves between a cozy little couch and a bookcase, making for the dormer window of shimmering stained glass.

“Is this original, too?”

“Think so,” Sam says. He watches her press a palm to panes made of myriad shades: jewel-bright blue, peridot green, burnt orange, deep crimson.

“You like it.”

He joins her in two strides; his shoulder brushing the wall opposite her. In her periphery, the light filtering in through the stained glass sparks more gold in his eyes.

“I do," she says, pulling her hand back. She meets his gaze, then mirrors him, leaning against the window frame.

“Me too,” he says. He smiles again; another flicker across his face before it becomes something wistful. “Almost makes me wish I’d taken this flat over mine.”

“We could always swap,” Charlotte says. Her smile twists into something more teasing before she can think better of it.

Sam lays a hand on his chest. “You wouldn’t do that to Philly, would you?”

She chuckles. "No, I wouldn't," she admits. "He clearly needs his space. Probably from you."

Sam's eyebrows shoot up his forehead, but his grin stays bright. "And you were worried! Not even a full day and you fit in fine, Chuck." He bumps her arm with his elbow, and the spiky, foreign thing in her chest turns squiggly.

"If I was worried about anything," she says, crossing her arms, "It was that you're hard of hearing. You know, since my name is Charlotte."

"Not a fan of nicknames?" he asks. "Or is it just that one in particular? We'll find something that fits you, Charlie. Give it time. We've only just met."

She clicks her tongue at him, and the squiggly something doesn't miss his eyes zero in on her mouth. She glances down at her feet; clears her throat.

"This what got you into the work?"

She looks back up at the question. He nods toward the window; his smile melting into something more mellow, like a lazy trickle of tree sap. "Or was it Wright himself?"

"Presumptuous of you," she tsks. "You know I'm here for Marion."

"Do I?" he asks. He furrows his brow, and something like the shadow that passed over his face earlier that morning reappears—fleeting and fickle, and gone in the space of a breath.

+++

I lived in Chicago for years, and recently went back and visited the FLW house/studio tour for the first time and that plus the inspo fuel that is this fandom sparked this (could maybe be an AU if you blink real, real hard) idea. We'll see if it goes anywhere!

And now I'm going to work on this today and try not to be too anxious about posting part of it on the internet 🤣

[stellar-waves]

staring down the sun [13] *

⏯ chapter index

⚠ warnings: mentions of death and grief/mourning

. . .

turn my bones to sand

. . .

Rubbing his eyes, Connor smells the night air falling around him and Murphy as they walk down the street. They spot a payphone, laughing to themselves when they see FREE THE SAINTS had been spraypainted on the side. But then the phone rings, and the twins look at each other, confused. Connor picks up the receiver, answering with a slow hello. 

“Connor, is that you?” 

He recognizes that thick Irish accent anywhere. 

He can’t help the lump forming in his throat as he locks eyes with Murphy. “Ma?” 

Murphy’s face falls with shock, and Connor instinctively angles the phone for his brother to listen. They press their shoulders together and huddle close to the payphone box.

“Yer brother there, too, yeah?” 

“Aye, I’m here, Ma,” Murphy confirms.

“I need ye both to listen to me,” her voice is profound, her words clear and not soaked with alcohol for once. “Ye made me proud.”

The boys pause, wondering if they heard her correctly. “What do ye mean, Ma?” Connor asks.

She lets out a long sigh, and they can hear her smiling on the other end. “I mean it. Ye boys made me proud. Ye still do. Yer good boys that are protecting all that which is good.”

“But, Ma…” Murphy swallows hard. “We thought ye disapproved of what we were doing. Because of Da.”

“Oh, Murphy, my son. Truth is, yer father tried to do what he thought was right. He just…well, ye know now, yeah?”

They nod simultaneously, choking out their agreement together. “Aye, we do.”

“There’s one more thing I need from ye,” she says firmly. “Keep each other safe.”

Connor and Murphy look at each other, tears stinging their eyes as they smile. “Yes, mother.”

“And not just the two of ye lot. Take care of those who are helping ye as well.”

“We will,” Murphy softly replies. 

“Promise,” Connor assures as he blinks away the tears. 

Ma draws her voice out like smoothing butter on toast. “There’s my boys.” She laughs lightly, and the boys listen to her for as long as they can, missing her with every breath. “Oh, and Connor?”

He raises his eyebrows, hopeful she’s about to tell him he’s the older twin. “Yes, Ma?”

“A little bird tells me the sun is shining bright in Galway.”

. . .

Connor and Murphy wake up fast, looking at each other with wide eyes in the early morning sunlight. They each rub their faces and steady their breathing, letting their eyes focus before staring at each other again. Neither one says a word aloud; they don’t have to as muted smiles curl along their faces. 

Then Murphy’s brow creases slightly, and he utters one question he’s still wondering about. “Galway?”

Blinking hard, Connor shrugs and shakes his head, honestly not sure what their mother meant in saying that.

He reaches for his t-shirt while Murphy slides on his jeans. “I miss her,” Murphy admits as he sits back on the bed to tie his boots. 

“Me too.” Connor steps into his jeans and fastens his belt. “I wish we could have gone back to Ireland sooner, ye know, before…”

Murphy presses his lips together, nodding slowly. Connor sits on his bed, pulling his boots on finally while his brother avoids eye contact. He sees it in Murphy’s face: the memories, the regret, the grief. 

They had gone into hiding for around six months following the Yakavetta trial, after revealing themselves to the world, sending the message that evil would fear the Saints of South Boston. For six months, they hid with their father on the outskirts of town until they got the call from Uncle Sibeal. They didn’t believe it initially, thinking it was just another elaborate practical joke their mother wanted to play on them. But when Sibeal appeared at their door and showed them her obituary and prayer card from her funeral, Connor and Murphy lost it. “I’m so sorry we had to have the service without ye, boys. We wanted to keep ye safe,” their uncle explained as tears streaked down their faces. Da had quietly disappeared to his bedroom, unable to come out for some time. That night, they heard their father crying, praying, and begging for forgiveness. 

It took a couple of weeks for Sibeal to arrange for the MacManus men to travel to Ireland. Before they left, they called Smecker one last time. He asked Connor when they would return, but Connor couldn’t answer. “Be careful,” Smecker told them as Connor held the phone so Murphy could hear. And that was the last thing Smecker would say to them before he…

Connor smiles, laughing a bit at how memories can change. Murphy raises an eyebrow toward him, curious about what’s on his twin’s mind. “Oh, it’s just,” Connor starts, “Ye remember when we made it to Ireland? And when we went to the cemetery?”

Murphy’s face falls slightly, almost angry that Connor is still on this. “Aye…”

“Ye remember that flower arrangement that was by Ma’s gravestone? And that it had a card signed—”

“—signed by Smecker. Yeah, I remember that.” Murphy places his hand over his mouth, the memory flooding back and returning the light to his eyes. “He had written some poem and then signed it, ‘Your friend, Paul.’”

Connor walks to the other side of the room, fumbles with his coat to find the inside pocket, and pulls out a small, plain white card. His voice is gentle as he hands the card to Murphy. “Didn’t have the heart to leave it there only to get rained on.” He watches his brother’s smile grow as he studies the card, the edges showing years of wear. Though it’s typewritten from their hometown florist, the words are still from Smecker’s heart. 

“How the fuck did ye keep it all this time?” Murphy asks.

Smiling still, Connor returns to his coat, pulls another small card from the inside pocket, and hands it to his twin. “This might have been the saving grace when we got arrested.” It’s the prayer card from Ma’s funeral, and the edges also show years of sitting in Connor’s coat pocket. 

Murphy lets out a slow sigh, not out of sadness but of comfort. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Lord’s fucking name!” Connor barks, sounding just like his mother. 

They both laugh, giggling like little boys again. As Murphy calms down, he hands the two cards back to his brother, only for Connor to hand the prayer card back to him. 

Doesn’t matter who was born first…Connor will always be the unspoken big brother.

He lightly pats Murphy’s shoulder, quietly reminding him they should get going. They pull on their coats and go outside, their stomachs already growling for breakfast at the diner up the highway. Another “devout follower,” Duffy said of the diner’s owner, and that she agreed to “close for a private party” whenever the group needed to blow off some steam. Today is one of those days. 

The others have already left, so the boys stand at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Elena. Murphy lights up a cigarette and hums a familiar tune that Connor can’t quite place yet. 

“Morning, boys,” Elena greets them with a modest smile, sliding her jacket on as she descends the stairs. “You sleep well?”

Murphy nods as he takes a drag, still humming. He presses a hand to his chest, surely to confirm Ma’s prayer card is still safe in his pocket, close to his heart. 

The three walk along the gravel to the car, and Elena hands Connor the key. “What about you, Connor?” she asks gently. 

He shakes his head, chuckling at the irony that after sharing the same dream, the twins have different opinions on the quality of their sleep. By the car, he answers as his brother climbs into the backseat. “Sort of.” 

Connor watches Elena as she slides on her black wayfarers, his breath catching in his chest as the sun lights up her face. She smiles, glowing beneath her sunglasses. “Sounds like you and I need some coffee, yeah?”

His cheeks feel warm as his grin spreads, and he can’t tell if it’s from the sun or Elena. That is if there’s even a difference between the two anymore.

. . .

. . .

⏮ [12]

[14] ⏭

[eddiesguitarpic]

heyy, love!

hope you're doing good :)

I was wondering if you could write this concept- poly!mafia!marauders taking you out to a mafia gala. you were shy at first, but being your extrovert self, ended up flirting with the host of the party. and needn't say, the marauders were NOT happy.

mafia!marauders are my fav 😩

at first you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself.

wearing a tight red dress that the boys had picked out for you, you felt out of place amongst the sea of rich, mafia men that worked for your boys.

it was a gala type of event, so everyone was dressed to the nines. there weren’t many women, but the few were dressed in similar dresses to yours, most likely picked by their boyfriends and husbands as well.

the boys had deserted you a bit ago, chatting up some random man while you sat at a table with a champagne flute in hand, sipping occasionally while you bounced your leg to the beat of the music playing through the speakers.

“what’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone?”

you want to scoff at the overused pickup line, then an idea strikes you.

“my boyfriend left me.” you feign a sigh, turning to look at the conventionally attractive man with an exaggerated pout.

“poor thing.” he coos, taking an uninvited seat beside you, placing his whiskey on the table near your flute. “anything i can do to cheer you up?”

the suggestive tone of his voice makes you want to gag, but you refrain. you can see remus and sirius out of the corner of your eye, nudging james to direct his attention to the little show you were putting on for them.

“i can think of a few things.” you giggle flirtatiously, drawing your heel up his calf in a less than innocent manner.

you see his lips part, ready to shoot back another flirt when three men walk up to the table.

“hello, rob.” remus spits his name like poison.

“h-hi, mr lupin.” the man stutters, immediately cowering at the sight of his boss, straightening up in his seat to appear professional.

“you ready to go, bunny?” sirius directs his question toward you, not even bothering to acknowledge rob.

“he’s your boyfriend?” rob blubbers, looking over at you with wide, fearful eyes.

“we’re her boyfriends.” james cuts in, a smug smile stretched across his face.

the way his eyes widen comically large makes you feel slightly guilty, but mostly satisfied that your plan had worked.

“let’s go.” sirius grabs your arm, pulling you up from the seat before the words even left his lips.

you were in for it.

a fifteen minute drive later, you were bent over remus’s lap, dress hiked up and panties pulled down, ass exposed to the three boys around you.

“i want you to count for me.” remus says, hand massaging the flesh of your ass.

“okay, daddy.”

“good girl.” he croons condescendingly.

smack

“o-one, thank you, daddy.”

smack

“two, thank you, daddy.”

smack

“f-fifteen! thank you, d-daddy.”

smack

“twenty- twenty-five.. thank you, daddy.”

“have you learned your lesson yet, pumpkin?” remus murmurs, dragging two of his fingers through the slick pooling in your cunt.

“yes, daddy. i-i’m sorry.” you cry, ass on fire and cunt throbbing with need.

“i don’t think she has.” sirius chimes in, his sadistic grin sending shivers down your spine.

“i-i have!” you whine.

“don’t talk back.” remus growls, landing another firm smack on your sensitive ass, eliciting a cry from your lips. “ten more spanks, and you’re not coming tonight so don’t even think about it.”

“yes, daddy.”