#behind the pillow on my display shelf

[binart]

SRPA Chapter 3

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(Content warning for hallucinations, dissociation & PTSD episodes!)  

—

In late evening of the next day, Keith messaged Lance.

All members of their team had retreated back to their rooms (though Hedrox and En suspiciously left together), and Lance had just finished a call with his mom. She apologized like she did in all of them, for crying. But she clearly missed him just as much as he missed her.

As Lance grabbed some tissues from the shelf above his bed to blow his nose with, his phone next to his pillow dinged; the specific beep to indicate one of the old Voltron crew was messaging him. He dove for it.

A text from Keith, “Samurai 😫✨💦” in his phone, read: “Meeting with the team tomorrow. 0700. Deploying in the PM. See you then.”

One thing Lance found really endearing about Keith was his old person way of texting. If someone mixed Keith's texts in with his dad's, they'd be practically indistinguishable aside from the subject of the texts. He scrolled up to their last conversation.

“Good training. En wanted extra pointers. Staying behind for a bit.”

                                “K, I'll save u some of those spicy green chips u like 👍”

“Good luck........... Chip fiend Hedrox won't be happy. L. O. L.”

                                 “🤣 Thanks for the heads up man! See you soon.”

“Over and Out.”

                                  “🫡”

“L. O. L !”

“🫡”

He set his phone down and buried his face into the softness of his mattress. Then he threw his pillow across the room for good measure. He went about his nightly routine a little lighter despite the homesickness pulling at his chest, and wondered what they'd be doing tomorrow. They still hadn't gotten a replacement for Torat, and Hedrox confirmed there was still possibly a weeks-long wait before they could move on any intel from the bugged base. Maybe they'd be going on a super spy infiltration somewhere? Though there were plenty of other things the Blade of Marmora was doing these days too. They were trying to become a more public-facing organization, after all.

Slipping into a hazy state of half-consciousness before long, Lance only vaguely registered a far away blue flash against his closed lids, and an oddly familiar fuzzy jostling of his arms before falling asleep.

—

0700 on the dot. He arrived at the team meeting room, same one as where they gathered the last time, only now without Torat leaning up against the wall. As Lance walked in to see the others already there and waiting, he wondered what the big guy was doing now. He'd been transferred to a different team, but that was about all he knew.

“Morning, Lieutenant.” Kestin, though usually pretty quiet, was the first to notice him, and waved. Keith looked up from the hologram table he was studying with En and Hedrox, and smiled.

“Mornin'.” Lance was still a little tired despite mostly adjusting to the longer day cycle, but everyone else seemed full of energy. En sharply saluted him, then turned back to face Keith.

“Hey Lance, sleep well?” Lance nodded in between a tired yawn. “Pff, you sure?”

“I got my nine hours, I just had a super weird dream..” He'd dreamt of one of those pretty furry moths back on Earth, except huge, that kept trying to lick his face and sit on him. It was mildly terrifying. “Anyway, I'm good. What's going on with this mission?”

“Big supply delivery to a colony. I'll show you the details.” From all around, everyone approached the table and regarded the screen sat within it. Just as before, a series of images with accompanying text lit up in the 3-d display. Lance eyed a familiar looking planet.

“Elysium-2?” Keith nodded.

“You've seen the news, then. Good. The refugees from the original settlement landed about half a year ago, and we're gonna hand out some medical and food supplies that are running lower than initially projected.”

“And actually—the Blade wasn't the only one to volunteer to offer supplies, but the Inter-galactic Coalition thought it might be good PR for us,” Hedrox supplied as he raised a lanky finger. “Looootta people are still afraid to trust us since, y'know. Most of us are half-Galra and all..”

There was a brief silence, then En leaned forward and regarded his teammate with lowered brows. “A prejudice we shall eradicate, in time.” Hedrox tilted his head back and forth in a strange motion before letting out a watery chuckle.

“That we will! Anyway, what are our roles, Commander?”

“..We'll be working distribution and security. There's a couple of teams on this for the different areas of the settlement given how big it is, and we'll be stationed here.” He pointed to a glowing yellow point on the planet-sphere in front of them. It swiftly zoomed in to show a 3-d rendering of the area. Two additional yellow spots appeared. “We'll drop down and hand out supplies here, and monitor security over here.” One of the dots was placed within a very modern looking building, similar in design to the ones quickly built back when New Altea was being settled.

“There's been reports of potential suspicious movement in the system, so in case anything happens, we want our best on sight.” Keith looked at Lance. “You in?” Immediately Lance's face grew hot. He certainly didn't feel like he deserved to be called their best, but he cleared his throat and gave a assured 'mhm!' regardless. “Good, that's everyone on board, then. We'll go over the specifics of the layout and the expected timeline for everything going down. After that we'll grab our gear and Kestin will take us in.”

Pre-mission anxiety skimmed and bubbled in the pit of his stomach once again, but this time Lance found it a little easier to ignore.

—

Touchdown was at 1300. Kestin joined up in the atmosphere with two additional fighter pilot personnel manning the supply ships to make up B squad; Keith's team, Kolivan's team, and another Blade commander called Thiga's team. Landing went without incident from teams A to D who kept in close contact despite the miles of distance between them. Lance gripped his sniper rifle's strap across his torso tightly when the ship lurched to a stop and snuck a subtle glance at his friend beside him.

For this mission, he'd be separated from Keith. Lance was, embarrassingly, more anxious about that than anything else. It was important for higher profile blade members like Kolivan and Keith (as well as Krolia in D team) to be the face of the operation, and so they would be handing out supplies to the residents. There was potential danger there if the reports of suspicious movement were to be believed, and so Lance was pretty sure that's why Keith delegated Lance to overseeing the security division of their group. He and Hedrox would rendezvous with the blades under Thiga's command in the building across the way from the supply ships, then from there observe to make sure everything went smoothly. He didn't like the idea of Keith openly risking himself while stashing Lance away, but was surprisingly too embarrassed to say anything. His mask was activated, and as the doors to the shuttle hissed open, Lance headed towards the exit.

“Hey Lance.” He turned around to face an also masked Keith. “Watch my back out there, alright?” Lance thought about his only strength—his aim, and how he'd probably be useless if he were at Keith's side like he wanted to be.

“..You bet. Careful out there, Keith.” He nodded, and Lance picked up his pace to meet up with Hedrox.

His nest this time was a lot different from the last; A large office-like space within the building had been cleared out to make way for several massive server-looking machines that were clearly Marmorite-y in design. He had no idea what they were for. Hedrox and Lance entered to find the security team already there and settled in. When they noticed their approach, all but one of the members of Commander Thiga's team whipped up and gave sharp salutes. “Lieutenant!” There were six of them in total, all of various size and race behind their masks, and stood stone rigid in front of him as he shifted uncomfortably. Normally Lance would have loved to be treated with such clear importance, but he was distracted by the unease of not being able to see if Keith was okay.

“Uh, at ease, soldiers.” He wanted to get himself set up at the windowed opening straight away, but realized he should probably do the leader stuff he was meant to do. “Status?”

“Ready and at your command, Lieutenant!” The shortest blade rumbled in the deepest voice Lance had ever heard. “And might I add what an honor it is to work alongside a Paladin of Voltron..!” Lance jerked, then immediately caught himself and stiffly walked over to the windowed opening. He turned away.

“Cool, cool, uh, I'll set my stuff up here, and you guys do... your thing. Let me know if anything happens.”

The stony line of blades once again saluted, and quickly set about their work. Hedrox pulled out some supplies from their blade-issued backpack, and sidled over to Lance.

“You good, Lieutenant..?” He whispered through their personal comms as he set up several tablet devices next to Lance. With his rifle now pointed towards the platform in front of the supply ships where Keith was standing, Lance breathed out a small chunk of worry. His right ring finger tapped the comms button on his palm.

“Why'd Keith make me leader? I dunno how to lead! I'm just here to shoot bad guys if they show up.” Hedrox snorted.

“Oh, I dunno, Lieutenant. Maybe because the Commander always goes on about how much everyone respects you, and how insanely skilled you are, and how much he trusts you?” Lance whipped his head up to look at them so quickly his neck clicked.

“H-He said all that..?!”

“Uh-huh. It's also favouritism for sure, but you still absolutely deserve to be here if that's what you're worried about.”

“Distribution commencing, Lieutenant,” a blade informed from off to the side. Lance studied Keith in his scope next to Kolivan and some other masked blade that was probably that Thiga guy, and swallowed to help with his suddenly very dry throat. En was there, too, loading the heavier of the alien supply crates onto hovering carts.

“U-Understood, thanks.” He pressed the button on his thumb once again. “I didn't know Keith said all that stuff!” Hedrox once again tilted their head strangely as they typed away.

“Really? I thought with how obvious the both of you are about your feelings for each other, you already knew..” Lance nearly fumbled his rifle then and there. His pulse picked up as his face grew sweaty.

“F-Fee—Um! What?!" Quiznack, why were they talking about this?! And how did he know?!

“Lieutenant... Come on. Or, actually... Would it be helpful if I told you how much I love the intricacies of human social interactions? And humans in general. You guys are so cool and interesting, so uh. I tend to notice that sort of stuff.” From beneath his hood, Hedrox's little sunflower bots fluttered to life around him. “But both of you are also super obvious.”

Lance was at a loss for words. Under his mask he knew he was red as a beet as he watched Keith unmask and start handing out supply kits to the forming lines of residents. His ponytail had gotten a bit loose and strands once again framed his handsome face. He was smiling.

“Keith's—I mean. He's—into guys?” His hands were sweaty now too, with his arms beginning to shake from holding them so tightly still. He hoped nothing was going to happen, because his aim was definitely shot!

“Maybe not all of them, but you? Yeah, Lieutenant, yeah. Very. It's really sweet how much he likes talking about the stuff you guys used to do together! Hmm.. I just assumed you two were already a thing, though, so maybe it's not really my place to talk about this. My bad.”

“No, uh, I was—Like I didn't know if Keith was into—“ Lance lifted his right hand away from his rifle to gesture at himself and distantly wondered how crazy he looked to the other blades who couldn't hear their conversation. He retreated back to his position. “So I didn't wanna. Assume? A-Anyway!” Frantically Lance desperately searched his mind for something else to talk about, because this was quickly becoming too much to deal with. “Human behaviours? That's your thing? How'd that come about?” Hedrox chuckled.

“Subject change, understood. Yes! Humans are the coolest—I'm gonna move to Earth someday, so I started studying your speaking and social patterns so it's easier to fit in. And because it's fun.”

From through his scope, Keith raised a hand to his ear, nodded, then continued to pass out supply canisters. “Huh.. Why us? I'm pretty sure there are a bunch of cooler alien species out there than plain old humans.”

“Now that's where you're wrong, Lieutenant! Humans are fascinating. All so similar, yet none exactly the same.” They pressed their back up against the plain, modern wall next to Lance. “..On my planet, conformity was umm.. kind of a given. Our ancestors were actually a hivemind, so.. we stay close to our roots and expectations.” A hivemind? Lance could recall only a single occasion where team Voltron interacted with one of them, and it was super weird.

“Data crunching comes really easily to most of us,” Hedrox continued. “And I actually found out about Earth when I was snooping around the Blade database of our highest ranking members and found—um, the Commander's mom. Super classified, by the way, don't tell anyone I was doing that.” Lance laughed.

“Reminds me of Pidge, but yeah, my lips are sealed dude, don't worry.”

“Coolies, thanks. Anyway when I learned about Earth I quickly discovered all of the amazing things you guys have like movies, and music, and so many different cultures, and—and individuality in general! Also, related, I'm insanely ugly by Yorith standards. Look.” Lance obeyed and turned his head to watch as Hedrox's mask shifted away from his face,

and one of the most shockingly attractive faces Lance had ever seen appeared. Blue tinged skin, rosegold eyes with soft lashes, near-glowing long golden locks curling around a sharp but also somehow soft jawline, intricate neon swirling designs tracing around the outer portions of his face and onto his horn... Maybe not as much of Lance's type as Keith was, but man oh man he was hot hot.

“........Dude. You're hot, what?”

“I know, right?!” Quickly, they reactivated their mask when they saw the other blades turn to examine them. “One day me and En are gonna settle down on Earth and I'm gonna be a crazy popular stone—er, rockstar, that is. That's my dream.” Some of his tiny floating bots scooted out of the window as he curled his legs in close, and Lance wondered what his and En's relationship was. “But only once the empire is totally gone.”

From the opening his rifle was pointed out, excited chatter from the beings below drifted upwards and into his ears. There was a sizable crowd now, and Lance listened to Hedrox as he kept his eyes peeled for threats. “Yeah, I get it. Too risky otherwise. My family's in New Altea just in case they keep attacking..”

Hedrox sighed. “Yup.. The empire invaded my home planet half a millennia ago and everything sucked, of course. But when I was growing up it was at least always.. quiet. Then one day they sent in some giant planet cracker and destroyed it. For some rare material near the core used to make ship parts.” Lance went cold, and thought of his old house, half buried beneath rubble and waves.

“Geez.. Sorry to hear that.”

“It's okay.. I've had a while to get over it. That's also where I met En, actually! He was in charge of the mining operation before he double-crossed the empire for killing most of his crew.”

“En.. worked for the empire?” Sharp, immediate fear pierced Lance as he watched the very same alien pass close by keith with a large hover cart. He obscured his vision of Keith for a moment before continuing on to the residents below. “C-Can we trust him?!” His breath sped up, and his scope immediately honed in on En's masked head.

“Yeah, don't worry, Lieutenant, he's trustworthy. His non-Galran half makes it so that, when he bonds with someone, it's a lifetime thing. He's got a rough exterior, sure, but only to keep his extra soft inside parts safe!” Lance still felt queasy watching them move around so closely to Keith. “And if you need more convincing,” Hedrox began, and pulled off one of his gloves. He lifted up his palm, and it glowed a brilliant color Lance couldn't even put a name to. “On top of all my amazing gifts and genius, I can read souls.” His fingers wiggled. “Hivemind remnants, and all that. He's good people, I checked very thoroughly, since originally I was gonna, uh. Kill him.”

Man, that was a lot to take in. “...Okay, I guess—Yeah, I trust you, at least. I'm just worried about—I dunno, something happening to Keith.”

“I get you, Lieutenant, all of us are pretty much the same. The Commander's the whole reason we were even able to do anything with our lives, after all. We basically owe him everything.”

Before Lance could respond, he noticed a subtle shift of Keith's head, before his eyes widened. A blade made a noise of concern from beside him, Keith shouted something, then En dashed towards Keith and grabbed him. Lance moved to immediately take him out, and then—a massive explosion.

The force of it reached Lance and the rest of the security team as the building gave a violent shudder, though he couldn't see an impact crater. Dust and smoke filled their view, and Lance quickly pressed his comms. “Keith?! You okay?!” Rapidly he pulled his scope around to try and see past the debris. Hedrox sent out all of his drones, then began furiously typing away at his console. For a moment there was no response. Then,

“Ugh.. I'm alright.” Keith's strained voice filtered into his ears, and he coughed. “En's hurt. D squad was just attacked too. Can you see anything from up there?” Lance quickly scanned the horizon again, still just as obscured. Screams and wails came from down below.

“Just getting smoke and dust up here..!”

“Must be a smokescreen. Kestin, what's your status?”

Kestin spoke in a mildly panicked tone into their comms. “The ship's controls are jammed. Something external. If we can get it online I can activate thrusters to help with visuals. Hedrox?”

They were already out the door. “I'm grabbing En, then I'll come help.” Lance turned back and squinted through the obscurity. In the corner of his eye, a hundred or so meters away from Keith, something glowed. Purple. He swivelled and pointed his rifle, zoomed in, recognized the glowing insignia, then fired.

“Your 3 o'clock, incoming sentry drones, guys!”

A small hoard of bright, glowing purple poured into view. They weren't running, no—there were barely visible bursts from jet-boosters coming from the swarm's backs. Some of the other security blades began firing away on their own rifles alongside Lance. But there were what looked to be hundreds. The telltale sound of galran rifle firing began at the same time as another explosion roared off to his right. The foundations shook. Lance couldn't breathe.

Focus. Focus! Find Keith. Keep him safe.

The smokescreen thinned slightly for a moment and Lance spotted Keith next to Kolivan, carrying a limp En with his arm under their shoulders. Another set of glowing insignia's erupted from his right.

“9 o'clock too. Couple hundred drones on both sides!”

“Keep us covered until Hedrox can get us into the ship.” He watched as Keith immediately vanished from his view, followed by Kolivan and then En. From his wrist, he watched as the battery on their cloaking began to drain.

Didn't need to tell him twice. “Roger.” He switched his rifle to rapid-cooldown mode so he could fire off more shots, held his breath, then began to take them out.

Easy. No complexity to their movements. Lining themselves up to be mowed down. Hedrox's cloaking went up, too. More screaming from down below. Couldn't worry about civilians. Keep Keith safe. Exhale, inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire. Exhale. Distantly,

“Alrighty, in we go!” The doors to the shuttle opened, but some sentries from his left had nearly made it there already. Nope, no no no! Not today. Immediately he took them out.

“You six, focus on the eastern sentries!” Lance barked a command to the other blades with him. They were all obnoxiously slow, and he couldn't rely on them to help with the sentries already too close to Keith. He had to do it himself. The sky brightened, and so did the ground, and Lance, once again, took aim.

It was impossible to say how long it was until Hedrox and Kestin brought the ships back online and activated their thrusters. He was lost to the repetition of taking aim, firing, taking aim, firing. His vision swam, his wrist ached, his rifle was his old bayard again, but he was going be damn sure no one could hurt his friend.

And then, wind. The flash of light and familiar sound of the ships bursting to life; a booming twister whipped up the smokescreen that was making his job harder until it was nearly cleared away. Civilian bodies on the ground came into clear view. Don't look.

To his right, through the light filling his mask, too many sentries were still closing in. Still a threat. Keith. Inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire.. No response?

His rifle was overheated. The other blades were still too slow. Useless. He arose from his weapon, and would apologize for bruising egos later on after Keith was safe. The other sniper closest to him was the big one who didn't salute, though was easy enough to pry off and throw out of the space he needed to work. Back looking through a scope, inhale, position, fire, position, fire, position, fire. The sentries fell like flies. He could do this, he could be helpful.

“Lance, status?!”

“East and west sentries just about taken care of.” ..Was that his voice? He sounded weird. Like he was talking through a mile of water. Huh. His bracers had at some point shifted into his paladin uniform again, too. Now that Lance had a second to think about it, that was also pretty strange. Was something wrong with him?

“Huh?!”

“Commander, look—he's right! How'd they—”

“—Com..mand..er! These tactics.. are known to me.. We are being.. herded. Southern f-forces... We must needs—evacuate.” Man, En spoke annoyingly slow. The rest of the sentries to his left and right were already downed by the time they finished gasping out the intel. Lance grabbed another blade's sniper rifle and slipped through the opening of the building, activating his boosters so he could get around to the other side and start taking care of the rest. His pulse was surprisingly quiet as he landed down on the ground next to the corpse of Silvio.

“Heyy, uhh, Keith?” Several miles of water now, his voice was barely audible to himself. He wasn't sure if Keith even responded. “'Think something might be wrong with me. Dr. Nguyen was prob'ly right. I'll tell you after. ” He laughed at how easy it was to admit to Keith now, when he promised himself he'd never breathe a word.

A whisper of a voice. Keith? Impossible to tell. The light in his mask was near blinding, but he rounded the first corner of the building, watched a hilariously massive swarm of sentries arise from a crater in the ground, looked back for a second at the ship Keith was on, then, somehow, looked at it from above.

His bones felt strange. There was wind pushing all around him. Oh, he was flying. How did that happen? He tried to laugh but water came up.

And for a second, he thought he heard Blue.

-

CLIFF HANGER! okay so one of my goals has been to get across that Lance is a very unreliable narrator, and has avoidant tendencies where he doesn't like to think about the things that upset him (let alone talk about them!!), so I hope that's come across in these chapters! I wanted to vaguely hint at things like, for example, his old therapist (Dr. Nguyen) at one point recommending Lance not becoming a soldier again. Or how Lance planned on never telling Keith about that since obviously Keith wouldn't have invited him to be a Blade if he knew, & would probably feel really guilty! But I also worry I'm being too vague, so. I at least want to offer some clarity and context here. 🤣 Apologies if it's confusing at times!

ALSO. Kosmo has taken to teleporting into Lance's room and cuddling with him almost every night. This will be revealed to Lance later on LMFAO.

[awkwardgtace]

Caught Her Eye

Day 3 of gt july plush. Filled my mind with plushies. I have another idea i sorta wrote but didn't like rereading it so here's todays!

Alessia saw something as she passed by a store that she couldn't ignore.

Caught Her Eye

Alessia had never had a huge interest in plush toys. They were cute, sometimes cool. She just didn’t have a reason to want them. It was what made the fact she even walked into a store that only sold plush toys an oddity. There was just something that caught her eye today. Something that didn’t look like it belonged.

“Miss, can I help you?” an employee called. Alessia offered a smile before shaking her head. 

All she had to do was go to the display and pick up the toy that stood out. She’d realize she was crazy and walk away. Of course the problem was figuring out which one it was among the identical toys. There were the usual suspects. Cats, dogs, wolves, any common animal. Alessia kept her eyes locked on the rows of cartoon bunnies and rainbow chameleons. 

She had to admit they were kind of cute. It almost made it seem worth it to buy one if she did just imagine something.

“Miss, that line’s been very popular,” the employee made Alessia jump. She hadn’t noticed them come close. Just as she started to look at them, something moved. The very something she’d been waiting for. “If you’re worried they’ve been handled too much we have some in the back too.”

“How much is a bunny?” Alessia asked. There it was, but not the bunny she expected. “And a chameleon?”

“The two together? It will be about a hundred. If you want one off the shelf feel free to grab it, otherwise I’ll go get them from the back.”

“I’ll pick one out soon.”

The employee gave her a look, but walked off. Alessia rolled her eyes, of course that was the problem. This store had a history of theft obviously. It probably didn’t help that she’d been glaring at the toys the whole time. One step closer, she saw it again. The bunny first. The one that first caught her eye. As soon as she lifted it she saw the change on the chameleon again. She grabbed that one too.

A quick squeeze to each. They felt the same as any other plush toy she’d seen before. At least these two were weirdly cute. If it was her imagination maybe she’d keep them on her couch or bed. They were soft. A lot softer than her pillows.

“Have you decided, miss?” another call, another check that she wasn’t going to run off with the two. She walked to the register and placed them both down. A simple nod. The transaction went by quickly. Both plush toys were set in a bag as she left.

Alessia’s trip home was a blur. The next thing she knew she was sitting on her couch at home, staring at her purchase. At the store she was confident, but now it felt stupid. It wasn’t possible. A trick her mind played on her because of her usual disinterest. There wasn’t something moving inside them.

“Ugh,” Alessia fell to her side on the couch. This all felt like something she imagined. Probably because she was tired. A nap on the couch and then she’d put the toys somewhere. Maybe pick someone who would like them more to give them too…

“Del, are you there?” A quiet voice pulled Alessia from sleep. It didn’t seem right. Alessia tried to ignore it. Clearly her tired mind was pushing the things she saw earlier into her mind again. Maybe she was still dreaming. “Please tell me you’re there.”

The fact it continued took the dream theory away. She tried to be quiet as she opened her eyes. It took a bit for her eyes to adjust. The plushies were obvious. The thing that stood out first was the bit of stuffing in front of the chameleon. There wasn’t a rip when she picked it up.

“Ash!” Another quiet voice. A shadow moved in front of the bunny toy. Maybe a few inches tall. Too big for a bug, that’s for sure. As silently as she could, Alessia started to sit up. “Ash, I was so scared. I thought you might have been left behind!”

As she moved the bunny had movement inside it. The different colored fabric on its stomach opened and another tiny figure dropped out. The two next to each other made it obvious the new one was shorter.

“We need to find a way down. Before she wakes up.”

Alessia was up enough to reach the light. Quietly she leaned over. Click! The light came on, for just a moment she was blinded. Two soft screams of terror reached her as her eyes adjusted. The two figures backed into the bunny, nearly back inside it. It wasn’t going to hide them well. She leaned down, curious about just what was in the toys she bought.

“S-stay back!” the shorter one screamed. Long black hair and almost sickly pale skin. The taller one stepped forward with a glare. Dark brown skin and almost shaved light brown hair. Most importantly… They looked just like tiny people.

Alessia reached a hand towards them. The two immediately scrambled backwards. The taller one turned and lifted the woman into the bunny. It didn’t do much to hide her. She kept reaching forward until her fingers were close to the taller one. They kept a glare on her the entire time.

“What are you?” she whispered. A shiver ran down her spine as her fingers wrapped around the tiny frame. They were more solid than she expected. It only increased her curiosity about them. She tightened her hold as she started to pull them away.

“Stop!” the woman screamed. Alessia jumped at the voice. “Please, please don’t hurt them!”

“I wasn’t…”

The one in her hand started squirming. The glare shifted to fear. Alessia hadn’t really considered their point of view yet. She was just curious, especially about what she’d found. She kept her movements slow as she lowered the little person again. As she pulled her fingers away they burned. Almost desperate to feel the light weight again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Alessia slid forward off the couch. Careful not to jostle the table too much. “I… you’re really real. Like actually really real. I thought I was crazy.”

The woman climbed out again. She ran right up to the other. Alessia crossed her arms and rested her head on them for a pillow. The taller one pushed the woman behind them. Like this she could get a better look at the two. Make out their eyes. A piercing green on the woman. Grassy green and watery blue on the other person.

She slid a little closer. An attempt to make out their faces. Fear was an obvious thing to find. What she wasn’t expecting was how attractive she found them both. The taller one felt sturdy, but now she could see it was from muscle. The woman bled elegance and beauty despite her fear.

“Wow,” she breathed. The two didn’t move. The fear didn’t even start to wane. She chewed her lip… “I uh… I’m Alessia.”

“What are you going to do with us?” the taller one asked. 

She furrowed her brows. What was she going to do with them? Tiny people were living in plush toys she bought because she saw them moving. She couldn’t take them back to the store. Maybe she could get them home, if they had a home.

“Just let us go, please,” the woman begged. “We can fix the plushies before we leave!”

“Where will you go?” Alessia said. That caused a change. Two small forms broke immediately. Confidence, fear, everything was gone. They were lost. The only answer she got was a shrug from the taller one. “Do… you want to stay here?”

The fear was back immediately. Alessia had always been overzealous. Ruined more than one relationship by her excitement to know new people or learn new things. It had never been easy to recover from. This would be the hardest one yet.

“I-I just mean, you wouldn’t take up a lot of space. It looks like you came with your bed or room or whatever. It would be pretty easy to keep an eye out on the ground for you. So why don’t you… just… stay… ” She trailed off. 

The wide eyed stares kept her from even trying to recover anymore. One day she’d learn to think more about what she said. That obviously wasn’t today. She didn’t even know how the two would get around. Those thoughts died as the two started to laugh.

“I’m Delphia,” the woman said as she stepped forward. She gestured to the other person, “This is Ash.”

“Ash, Delphia,” Alessia nodded. Those names would be permanently burned into her mind. Just like those tiny faces filled with fear. She didn’t want to be why that happened again. Honestly the laughter, the smile, only made her find them both adorable. 

“What do you mean by us staying here?” Ash asked. A tiny thunderstorm of a voice. Alessia already had a crush on these two. They could fit in her hand, she was insane. She’d wake up the next day, find the two plushies, and question her insane dreams.

“I guess… tiny roommates? Not sure what else you could be. Friends would work too.”

“As long as you don’t grab me again.”

Alessia opened her mouth to argue, but the smirk on Ash’s face stopped her. Delphia had a smile on her face. At the very least they were giving her a chance. She could work with that.

[extralively]

Satoru's apartment (Part 1)

Continuing with my whole thing of trying to make the characters' apartments from my fic in The Sims, let's finally get into Satoru's apartment! ....Or part of it, because his apartment is fairly big lol. Here's the layout:

*The office and washroom are blurred because I haven't actually gotten around to them yet lol

Satoru's place is pretty big, but not the biggest he could have afforded because he is just one guy... so a fairly "modest" apartment will do.

("modest" my ass lmao)

His apartment is pretty neat, which tends to surprise people that expect someone like him to make a mess of things, lol. But Satoru had a pretty strict childhood so some things just stuck with him, and along with the way his family never allowed him to decorate his room in the Gojo Estate with trinkets and stuff, most of his apartment ended up the same--almost void of personality. The things he actually cherishes are kept away from prying eyes, even if this is his own apartment.

Honestly, I had a few very vivid images of what I thought his apartment looked like in my head (or parts of it), and it was kinda tough trying to put them all together into a definite layout lmao. If I made some weird architectural choices, well.... good thing I'm not an actual architect! I just really wanted to make it look like how I pictured it in my head.

In this post we'll take a look at the living room/fireplace/dining area and the kitchen after the cut!

The entrance is pretty spacious, and right behind the camera here there's a door leading to a whole ass closet for shoes and coats and stuff.

This here is the living room, where Satoru spends a lot of his free time watching movies (especially when he has people over. And by people I mean Yura and Shoko, mostly). He has a bunch of DVDs and Blu rays there on the shelf behind the TV, and he also has a couple of video game consoles that he doesn't use a lot.

Yes, this is where the Movie Night oneshot took place (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)... among other scenes.

(That corridor in the second pic with the white door leads to the guest bedroom, the office, and the washroom. That white door is the guest room, specifically.)

This is the fireplace area! Satoru doesn't actually use the fireplace a lot since he has central heating in the entire apartment, but in the opening chapter of Deeper in the Dark, this is where Satoru made a little pillow nest on the floor for him and Yura to snuggle... and yes, other things.

It's got a pretty good view! (...just pretend it's Tokyo back there)

(That corridor in the first pic leads to his bedroom.)

Here is the dining room that Satoru only uses when he has people over, otherwise it's just easier to eat in the kitchen or outside in the balcony (more on the balcony in another post... cause I still need to make it prettier lmao)

Also I might make some changes to this dining area at some point because I'm not 100% sure on the decor yet....

And here's the kitchen! This is the one place that has the most trinkets on display, a lot of novelty items that were mostly gifted to him by Yura over the years (and that he actually makes a point to use). Funny mugs, cookie jars, silly sugar bowls--since Satoru is filthy rich, it's very hard to give him gifts, so Yura eventually found out that he actually likes being given 'stupid stuff', in her words.

I had a very vivid image of the kitchen entrance in my head from that chapter where Yura was sleeping in the guest bedroom after coming back from NYC, and she sleepily stumbles into a shirtless Satoru with his back to her by the counter... cue her brain short circuiting for a moment lmao.

Anyway, next up should be the bedrooms! It's been a struggle making this apartment because I had to download so much CC and mods to be able to make things look the way I wanted to, and I'm still constantly changing things lol. If I do decide to change something, we'll just call it Satoru renovating his apartment at some point throughout the years lmao

[simstorian-blog]

Pebble Burrow

(CC List + Links)

World Map: Oasis Springs

Area: Bedford Strait

Lot Size:  30 x 20

(3-bedroom—4 beds, 2 Bathroom)

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Used

Cats & Dogs

Desert Luxe Kit

Dream Home Decorator

For Rent

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Horse Ranch

Snowy Escape

Spa Day

Strangerville

Build Mode

Harlix – Orjanic Pt. 1 (Sliding Door)

Harrie – Kwatei Pt. 1

LedgerAtelier – Marble Buro Floors

Max20 – Poolside Lounge (Agave)

MrOlkan – Pools

Peacemaker – Vaulted Ranch

Pierisim – Tilable (Used throughout)

Buy Mode

Awingedllama – Apartment Therapy (Floor Plant, Tastefully Lamp)

Awingedllama – Blooming Room (Plant 2)

Awingedllama – Boho Living (Cement Planter, Curvy Lamp, Floor Plant)

BlueTeas – Rivers Bed Blanket

Charly Pancakes – Miscellanea (Books)

ClutterCat – Mellow Moods (Inner Circle Rug)

Felixandre – Grove Pt. 2 (Stacked Bowls, Stacked Plates)

Felixandre – Shop The Look 1 (Hanging Lights, Wooden Table)

Felixandre – Paris Pt. 3 (Coffee Table)

Harlix – Baysic

Harlix – Baysic Bathroom

Harlix – Harluxe (AC Control, Book w Sunglasses, Light Switch)

Harlix – Kichen (Glasses, Tumblers)

Harlix – Livin’ Rum

Harrie – Coastal Pt. 2 (Outdoor Coffee Table)

Harrie – Octave Pt. 4 (Light Switch)

Joyce – Simple Live # 5 (Bathrobe, Shower Gel)

Joyce – Simple Live # 6 (Umbrella Rack)

KiwiSims4 – Blockhouse Bedroom (Floor Lamp)

KKB – Citrus Room (Cushion V1, Paintings)

Meinkatz – Moor Rug

Meinkatz – Superoblong Bed

MyCupofCC – Bathroom Collection (Fluffy Slippers)

Nordica Sims – Art Poster 01

Peacemaker – Bowed Bedroom (Squat Lamp)

Peacemaker – Hinterlands Living (Fringed Pouffe)

Peacemaker – Hudson Bathroom (Portal Mirror)

Peacemaker –Kassova Sectional

Peacemaker – Kitayama Bedroom (Smaller Zen Table)

Peacemaker – Matilda Mudroom (Beanie on Hook, Knit on Hook)

Peacemaker – Over the Rainbow (Pencil Tin)

Pierisim – David’s Apartment Kitchen (Fridge, Sinks, Stove)

Pierisim – David’s Apartment Pt. 2 (Nightstand, Double + Single Bed Frame)

Pierisim – Domaine Du Clos Pt. 3 (Single Bedding)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 1 (Books, Simstudio Display)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 3 (Narrow Rug,)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 4 (Kitchen Counters + Island + Shelves)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 5 (Double Bedding, Plain Rug)

Pierisim – Oak House Pt. 1 (Sideboard)

Pierisim – Tidying Up (Shelf)

S-imagination – Oak & Concrete Patio (Round Grill)

Simplistic – Indigo Art Prints

SixamCC – Life in Plastic (Bar Chair)

SixamCC – Small Spaces (Desk Calendar)

Sundays – Java Pt. 1 (Throw Blanket)

Sundays – Keidri Pt. 1 (Throw Pillow Prints + Solids)

Sundays –Keramas Pt. 1, 3, 5 (Daybed Single, Living Chair, Sofa)

Sundays – Sumatra Pt. 1 (Patio Bench)

Syboubou – Dino Bedroom (Drawings)

TianaSims – Cookbook

Tuds – Ind 02 (Décor Bottles)

Ung999 – Faye Blanket

Winner9 – Malibu Books

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

[theacedragon0w0]

It's just a Doll

Sage is gifted a stuffed plushie and doesn't know how to cope with it

Kinda angst warning because Maaan Sage's self love is more empty than a Walmart parking lot at 3am and can't take what they dish out

It was your typical shopping date for the girls, Sage and Hazel on bag carrying duty while Velvette and Rosalina took charge on finding cute accessories for the two guards and themselves to match.

"I don't understand why they insist on finding 30 pairs of belts and keychains," Sage groaned, seeing Velvette and Rose cooing yet another clip on red bow that sat on a display case.

"Ah let them spoil us Bluebell, they did the same when we went to that hanging gardens and they didn't have a gift shop." Hazel nudged Sage, but her ears lowered as both saw Velvette asking the clerk about a bedazzled collar that caught her eye.

Still, Sage was still getting used to being pampered, she much rather be the one spoiling them instead. Turning their head they spotted a fuzzy item.

It was a tiger plushie, the size of a pillow and the fabric looked cuddling. Almost like instinct Sage shifted their hands so they could get a feel of the fluffy friend.

It was soft, like holding a cloud of reassuring love, it's beady eyes showing no judgment. Sage stared at the tiger and couldn't help but remember her old one she lost all those years ago.

Before she was sent here, before she was taught that she had to "grow up" and help out the house, before the person that she thought she could trust shot her in the b-

"Bluebell, you there?" Hazel touched Sage's shoulder. That's right, Hazel, one of Sage's loves, that never made her feel worthless or pathetic or weak. Sage was safe, well as safe as being a body guard for an overlord can be. But Sage sighed, placing their new aquainted friend back on the shelf.

"You've been staring at that there stuffed toy fer a while now, you know if you want it you can ask the girls to get it-"

"No! I-i mean no it's fine really! Besides what would I want a silly kids doll anyway I got you guys to cuddle with!"

Hazel, not taking the half baked excuse, reach behind Sage to grab the tiger, whistled for Rosalina and Velvette's attention before tossing the stuffed animal at their direction.

"Yo boss! Sage wants this, can you add that with all the shiny knick-knacks yall are grabbin?"

Velvette and Rosalina looked down at the stuffed tiger, completely forgetting a set of earrings that they were going to add in their bags.

"Awww, Sage we love to get you this sweetie!" Both ladies cooed.

Sage, now deep violet on their ears and face, rushed to snatch the doll away from their grasp, but Rosalina, taking advantage of her height, kepted the tiger out of Sage's reach.

Sage quickly gave up, not wanting to cause a scene, booked towards the exit, almost forgetting they were holding bags of unpaid items. Fuck!

Hazel, tailing Sage and was thankful that they didn't barge out of the store, bent her knees so she was eye level with them

"Hey, what's wrong about getting you a plushie friend?"

Sage, at this point is fighting tears, they hated this feeling, like they were a child acting out, "I said I don't need a stupid doll, it's childish and I shouldn't have grabbed it in the first place-"

Hazel, cutting off Sage by bringing them into an embrace "It's not childish to want something love, you can always ask for stuff you know?"

Sage, choked, "I know that,"

"Do you? We love you, and it's not just you go outta way to make us these amazing dishes or that you work with the other worker's for Velvette's workload, or how you help me detangle my fur, or even to entertain Rosalina herself, we love you."

Velvette and Rosalina joined in on the embrace, Sage was at a loss of words, fave burying into Hazel's fur, mumbled "you guys are too good for me, get that stupid tiger."

Hazel belongs to the pookie @puffymucher

Rosalina belongs to the other pookie @mirconreadzztuff22

[carnivorousyandeere]

okay. i just need us all to picture cyrus' face when darling is about to go down on him and sees the 'lucky you' and just *has* to tease him about it a little bit. the cute red desperate face makes everything 10x better in my head 😌

- mazzy 💕

Mazzy you’ve done it again, never failing to inspire some delicious ideas 😩💕💕💕

This ended up being way longer than intended💀, just wanted to make sure he was thoroughly embarrassed for your reading pleasure 😌✨

Best or Worst Day of Cyrus’ Life?

( MDNI )

CW: smut, invasions of privacy, perv behavior, oral, potential deepthroating

Info: dom reader, gender-neutral reader

Things were calm at the lodge. There weren’t many guests coming through this time of year, so you and the werewolves had been able to take more time to sit back and relax, and just hang out with one another for a few weeks.

You’d been especially happy to see Cyrus finally warming up to you, spending more time with you and even letting you spend the night in his room. You’d gotten to talk about all kinds of things— religion, philosophy, even smaller things like favorite foods. He’d even opened up some about his past, and gushed about the research he’d been working on before being pulled into the werewolf pack. His eyes just lit up describing the intricacies of mycology— it was so charming.

You really felt like you were getting somewhere, getting to know him.

But these past few days, he seemed to be pulling away from you again. He would stalk away if you entered the room, not even meeting your eyes. You wondered if you’d done something to offend him… or maybe just come on too strong, like Mateo could at times… but, fuck it! You couldn’t think of a single thing you could’ve done to warrant a total silent treatment.

Luckily, it wouldn’t be too hard to confront him about it. He would come back to his room eventually— all you had to do was wait.

You tried not to pry too much, but you couldn’t help be curious about the books on his shelf. Mostly field guides and biological texts, but there were also volumes of poetry from various time periods scattered throughout as well. You picked one out at random, plopping down onto his bed and flicking through it to pass the time.

Poem after poem, and Cyrus still hadn’t returned. You started to feel a bit miffed, throwing the book aside gently and laying back on the sheets, rubbing your eyes. When you opened them again, a little flash of color in the corner of your eye caught your attention. Just peeking out from under Cyrus’ pillow. You lifted it to find— a pair of your own underwear?!

Your heart just about leaped out of your chest, face heating up. Holy shit… they weren’t even clean.

You didn’t have much time to decide if you were disgusted or flattered, before the door cracked open, Cyrus’ tired expression morphing into horror as he saw what you were holding.

The both of you froze, before Cyrus stepped inside and closed the door softly behind him. “I— I can explain.”

You sat up, crossing your legs, underwear still in hand. “Well?”

He stuttered, a dark flush overtaking his tanned skin. “I—I— uh. Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“That’s not an explanation.”

He froze in the midst of his fidgeting at your tone, head bowing lower. “…I like how you smell.”

“Have you done this before?”

Cyrus paused again, but nodded.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” his voice cracked.

You stood from the bed, placing your underwear on the duvet. He winced at your movements, probably expecting you to yell at him.

But your voice remained steady, even with your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “Sit.”

He fell to his knees, dark eyes wide where they look up at you. The rush of power from his display made you feel dizzy.

“Sit on the bed.”

He scrambled up to follow your orders, his breathing sharp and shallow.

“Pick up the underwear. I want to see what you do with them.”

Cyrus’ eyes went dark and hazy, a trembling little warble leaving his throat as he grabbed the underwear with both hands and brought them to his face. He breathed in deeply, eyes falling closed, and let out a low moan with his exhale.

You could see him hardening in his jeans, fingers twitching around the underwear pressed to his face.

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” The words left your lips before you had time to think about them, your tone wavering between affectionately exasperated and truly disgusted.

Cyrus moaned, hazy eyes opening to look at you again, seeming to regain some clarity and panic as you spread his legs apart and stood in between them, dropping the underwear. You brushed them aside then lowered yourself, sitting between his legs, face near his crotch.

“What— what are you doing?!” Cyrus started, voice wavering.

“What, you got a problem with this, pervert?” You asked, slowly undoing his zipper.

“N-no! It’s just—”

His voice, high with nerves, cracked and he watched as you read the embroidered words under the zipper, mortified. ‘Lucky you,’ the stitching read.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Lucky me, huh? I’d say you’re the lucky one here. I could’ve decided to tell Mason about this, then you’d be in some real trouble.”

Cyrus blanches, covering his face with his hands. “Please don’t!”

You just laugh again. “I won’t, I won’t.”

Between his fingers, you can see his eyes filling with tears. You decide to take a little pity on him, giving him a reassuring smile. His whole body sags with relief, but then he lets out a desperate whine as you laugh at his expense again, ghosting your fingers over his zipper then pushing past to palm him through his boxers.

He let out little pants and whines of your name as you dragged his underwear down and took him in hand. The dry friction of your skin on his made him squirm, cock only just beginning to leak pre.

You leaned in and smirked up at him, leaning forward to take him into your mouth. His hips bucked up into your throat against his will, head tilting back with a breathless whine.

You pulled off and fixed him with a glare, hands coming to hold his hips down. “Behave.”

Cyrus shuddered, “Yes, sorry, sorry, I’ll be good—”

His voice breaks on a “please,” as you do your best to swallow him down again. He didn’t take long to cum, face flushed so deeply and begging for you so prettily 💕

[catboymitosis]

Daan/Levi drabble request: Levi finding out about Daan's sweet tooth <3

Sorry I'm kind of behind schedule on this one, I’m worried its kind of nothingburger but I don’t want to leave your requests hanging either aaa;; Used the Levi old town shop party talk as a jumping off point for this. Please dispense your disbelief in how early the trend of hotel mints was established (google says it was the 1950s and used to be chocolates instead of mints)

“They don’t seem too well stocked” Daan muttered to Levi as he looked around the newly opened old town store. Cardboard boxes stacked against a shelf rather than any proper display.

He approached the clerk “Excuse me, is what's in those boxes for sale?” 

“Yetakealookaround”

Daan nodded and made his way towards the boxes, Levi trailing close behind as he always did. 

“They have a lot less than they used to…” he pointed out as he rummaged through the boxes. In their short time together it had been proven rare for Levi to ever speak up without having been first addressed.

“Well people tend to buy up everything they can before rough times hit, though that would imply anyone knew this was coming beforehand” Daan pondered “So, any stories about this place?”

 "The other kids at the orphanage used to have this plan on how to shoplift some candy from this kiosk..."

Daan nodded, encouraging him to continue his story.

"One would order something that required the clerk to reach the top shelves, while he was occupied with that the others would shove as much candy as possible to our pockets..."

“And were you part of that group?” Daan asked him

“Sometimes, there wasn’t really much else to do… It worked pretty well until the clerk hammered a nail through the palm of a kid who was caught still gouging the candy jar..."

Daan hissed at the thought of that though it did not entirely surprise him. He knew well how theft was used as justification to be physically cruel to children. 

“This clerk?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Before Levi could respond to him they were interrupted by loud banging, the bandaged man bashed his baby doll’s head against the shop counter repeatedly. Just as suddenly as he started he stopped his assault on the thing and returned to swaddling it as if nothing had happened.

Daan and Levi stared at him in surprise, then at each other for a moment before they turned back to the boxes.

“Shopkeepers are always on the lookout for thieving kids even though they’re the ones stealing the most inconsequential things, just waiting to enact revenge on the first target that can’t fight back. I remember being chased away from even looking at candy displays when I looked too poor to pay, window shopping is a privilege only those with enough money to dress well seem to get” Daan rambled.

“At that time the only way I ever got my fix was from a patient of mine, she’d been robbed and only had a hotel chocolate to pay me with. I treated her regardless of course, would stop by her street corner every night hoping she might still feel grateful enough to give me another. Most nights she wasn’t there but the nights she was were one of the bright spots in my life” he reminisced.

“Hotel chocolates?” 

“Single squares of chocolate, they leave on your pillow.”

“I didn’t know they did that… I’ve never stayed at one.”

“Not all of them do, only the high end ones. I’ll take you to one someday. Did you find anything we need?” Daan stood up with a few medical supplies in his arms. 

Levi shook his head, they paid for the goods and left the store. Once they were back out in the old town Levi fished out a wrapped hard candy from his pocket and presented it to Daan.

“It’s not chocolate… Sorry it was the only one I could find.”

“Did you steal that from the kiosk? We would have had enough to buy it, you know.”

“Just… Seems like a waste of money right now”

“Well you should have it then, doubt we’ll come across anymore and you’re the one who did the work”

“I don’t really like candy…”

“So it’s just about the thrill for you?” Daan smirked.

“... Sorry I thought you’d want it… I’ll just go throw it away…” Levi fidgetted. 

“I’m just teasing love, thank you Levi you’re too sweet” Daan accepted the gift and popped the candy into his mouth and gave Levi a reassuring ruffle of his hair for good measure.

[fwoomp-me-up]

So that little Drabble made me wet I won’t lie…

Think I can wish to be an inflatable sex doll or a slutty statue for you to tease whenever?

I mean hell I’d like to be anything

—poetickinkerer

Oh! My very own toy poet? Let's see.

I think Id get the most use out of you by making a little fidget toy - the kind of soft rubbery figure I can keep on my desk to knead and squish around in my hand while I'm on a call.

But then, I think you would appreciate being shown off, so we'll try a faux-crystalline glassy ornamental arrangement. Something decorative to keep on the shelf behind me (on camera!) to catch the afternoon sunlight. Hope you've been practicing your yoga because I'd like to have you holding a graceful pose: Something like a dance, caught and frozen in time.

If I had the workshop and the materials, I could get hands-on and sculpt you out of clay. Sure, most of the time, you'd be alone in the dark, but not forever! When the mood strikes, I'll put on some music and get messy shaping your form and figure. "Is it too bottom heavy? Maybe I should stack more on the bust... Oh, I can make the hips a bit wider so it'll catch the eye from over here..."

Unusual? Sure! Grotesque? Nah! Obscene? Perhaps! Inspiring? Absolutely! Regardless, the final step would be to wave that magic wand and marbilize you. Now that you're ready to last a century, all that's left is to find the right pedestal for your display. While I'd love to keep you around, I'm not sure I have the kind of garden that could do such beauty justice. No, I think I'd have to fake some work orders and get you set up in a public park. Of course, I do have some shred of decency - I'd figure out some sort of top to contain those big puffy nipples. Something that looks light and breezy: a bystander could imagine it billowing in the breeze if it weren't apparently cut from stone. And I suppose some sort of skirt would be warranted as well. Probably something that one would have to get close to if they wanted to peek up it.

But that's all a bit elaborate. If you're giving me free reign, I think I'd just make you a big fuckin plushie. Do you think you'd be a traditional teddy bear or maybe a cute doggie? Something more exotic? As long as you're at least as huggable as a body pillow, you'd be welcome to keep me company on a cozy night.

[audioaujom]

(5) Automatonophobia

LTWF Hub, < prev, next >

No TWs, just more crazy antics and some writing of the whole gang together (finally)! It’s pretty dialogue heavy, so I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2972

--

Throwing open the plain wooden door with a grin, Patton excitedly gestured inside to a rather unimpressed Logan. “This is my dorm!” 

“It seems like an adequate living space.” Logan nodded as he followed Patton inside, taking in the two wildly different halves of the small dorm.

The right side was very clearly Patton’s, with fairy lights tacked to the very top line of the wall over the bed covered in piles of fluffy blankets, stuffed animals, and pillows of various pastel colors. Every surface of the desk was covered in small knick-knacks—Pokemon figurines next to squishies of various shapes—and a Polaroid camera tucked into the corner of the top shelf that was free of even a speck of dust. A small cork board hung on the wall between the bed and desk and was covered in photographs—mostly of Patton, though Logan spotted Virgil in more than in a few—and handwritten notes.

The other side belonged to Patton’s roommate Roman, the scarlet sheets not well made up and the desk covered in loose paper, books, and a large speaker on the top shelf. The wall behind the bed had every inch covered by large musical and movie posters, a handful of them covered in sharpie signatures and some of them with matching playbills displayed on the desk.

Between the two was a microwave precariously balanced on top of a rather large mini-fridge, the power cables for both stretched nearly to their limit to reach the busted wall outlet beside the window above Patton’s bed. Both beds had a window above them, the blinds pulled down all the way over both to keep the late evening sun from warming the room too much.

“It is! And I’ve got it all decorated and everything!” Patton ran inside and jumped onto his bed, picking up a cat shaped pillow and hugging it into his chest. “This is my half, the other is Roman’s.”

“Ah.” Logan hummed, entirely unsurprised. He spared one final glance at the wall of posters as he shut the door behind him, walking over to take a seat at Patton’s desk. “He seems to enjoy the art of make believe.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty big into theater.” Patton laughed, setting the pillow down to pat the bed beside him. “That’s why he’s not here right now, actually. He’s got a rehearsal.”

“I see.” Logan hesitated for a moment before getting up and taking a seat beside Patton on the bed. “You have quite the collection of stuffed animals.”

“Yes!” Patton instantly pushed himself back towards the wall so the full pile of plushies and pillows that made up a mock headboard could be better seen. “They all have names and they are all my friends!” He then paused, realizing what he was saying and face flushing as he picked up a small elephant and put it in his lap. “I… know it’s a little childish.”

“Acting upon child-like ideas and motivations is not always a bad thing, Patton.” Logan shook his head, reaching out and picking up a small white cat and holding it in his hands. “Is there a particular reason you cherish them so much?”

“Well… I always wanted a collection when I was a kid, but my parents said I couldn’t have more than a few.” Patton stared into the carefully arranged pile, a sad smile slowly spreading across his face as he poked at each plushie instead of glancing at Logan. “So, um, I collected them in secret during high school. About a quarter of these are gifts from Virgil for making it into school, though. That's why it’s so big now!”

“I see.” Logan was smiling slightly when Patton snuck a peek back over at him, having set the cat down across his legs. “As long as they make you happy, I can understand why collecting them could be seen as a worthwhile hobby.”

“Do you want to meet them?!” Patton exclaimed excitedly, Logan unable to say no as Patton lit up and began gently handling every single stuffed animal with a kind of delicacy that had Logan's smile growing, listening intently to every name until some noise from the hallway outside interrupted the moment. 

The noise turned to shuffling directly outside the dorm door, before the door then unlocked and swung open as Patton’s roommate started to step through with a wide grin. 

“Honey, I’m ho—OH MY GOD!” Roman slammed the door shut in his own face, Logan and Patton sharing a look as Roman then had to unlock and open the door for a second time. “What the hell is that thing doing in here?!”

“Oh, hey!” Patton brightened up, smiling. “Roman, this is Logan! Logan, this is my roommate Roman.”

“Hello. It’s nice to make your acquaintance.” Logan stood up and started to extend a hand towards Roman, who jumped back in surprise.

“Oh shit! It talks!”

Logan tilted his head to one side, a small frown forming on his face. “...I’m confused.”

“Oh course he does!” Patton was also confused, looking at Roman questioningly. “How else would he teach?”

The three stared at each other for a long moment, before Roman tentatively asked, “...teach?” 

“Do you even go to class at all?” Patton tilted his head to one side, a little annoyed by Roman’s confusion. “He's the guy from my astronomy class I was talking about!”

“The guy… from your astronomy… class… is… a…” Roman’s face changed as he spoke aloud, clearly processing the information before suddenly blurting, “Well now hold on a diddly damn darned second! You never said he was a robot!”

Patton smiled sheepishly, holding the white cat that Logan had on his lap earlier. “I didn’t realize that was relevant.” 

“If my presence makes you uncomfortable in any way, I can vacate your residence.” Logan offered, gesturing for Roman to stop blocking the door. “Patton and I could resume our discussion either at a later date or in another location.”

“No, Logan, you don't have to go.” Patton leaned forward to grab Logan by the upper arm, eyes pleasing as he pulled him back towards the bed before he could walk away.

“No! Yes, he does! He— Yes!” Roman blanched as Patton glared over at him, him looking between the two nervously.

“I thought you said you didn’t mind if I had friends over?” 

“Well of course I don’t mind, it’s just…” Roman awkwardly looked away, face flushing as he admitted, “Those things are creepy. They freak me out.”

“By ‘those things’, are you referring to us androids in general?” Logan asked, Roman pressing his lips into a thin line as he nodded in affirmation.

“Yeah! You look and sound so… real.” Roman shuddered, finally dropping his backpack and shedding the jacket he had on. “It’s unnerving!” 

The three boys stared at each other for a long moment before Roman grimaced, waving a hand dismissively into the air and turning his full attention to the ziploc bag full of half-melted ice he pulled out of his bag on the floor.

“But… whatever. If Patton wants you here that bad you can stay. Oh, and Virgil told me to bring you ice. Didn’t say what for.”

Logan sat back down on the bed beside Patton, looking to him for confirmation before quickly recounting, “Some kids attacked him while we were reviewing notes earlier.”

“Oh, shit! Let me see!” Dashing forward, Roman almost dropped the ice in his haste to figure out what happened, reaching out for Patton’s face.

“I’m fine, Roman, really—!” Patton immediately put both arms out, pushing Roman away before he could touch him, Logan noticing the nearly imperceptible flinch that the other clearly missed.

“Names.” Roman demanded as he noticed the now purple bruise spreading across Patton’s cheek, hands clenched at his sides. “I want their names.”

Patton shook his head, subconsciously trying to block the injury with one of his hands as the other reached out to take the bag from his roommate. “No, no, come on. Just… it stings. Let me have the ice.”

“Oh. Sure. Sorry.” Roman worriedly watched Patton as he handed the bag over, gently pressing it against his face.

“If you would like, I can—” Logan interrupted, Roman whirling to the side and swinging a wild punch that collided with Logan’s chest, not hurting the android but startling him as his words were cut off in a loud swear from Roman.

“Ow! Fuck, man, I forgot you were made of metal. That hurt.” Shaking out his hand, Roman winced and offered Logan an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Ow. What were you saying?”

“I was simply planning on offering to hold the ice. The temperature will not affect my hand in the same way.” Logan returned the smile as best he could, turning to look at Patton. “Meaning I can hold it for longer.”

“It’s okay, Logan. Thanks though.” Patton shook his head, pulling the ice off the bruise for a few moments before putting it back.

“You’re so lifelike you may as well be.” Roman uttered incredulously, both Logan and Patton unsure if he meant to say that out loud. He then abruptly turned around, busying himself with his phone as he declared, “Well, I’ll let you two have this room to make out or whatever it is you were planning on doing—!”

“Roman!” Patton cut him off with a squeak, before composing himself and countering, “If you’re leaving to go see Virgil, just invite him over, too.”

“...how’d you know?” Roman looked up through light bangs that had fallen in the way of his eyes, face crimson. “Am I really that obvious?!”

“I am told I am rather dense and usually unaware of these things, but…” Logan interjected, Patton trying to suppress giggles from beside him. “I noticed as well.”

“Well fuck.” 

“Which means Virge probably has too.” Patton shrugged, meeting Roman’s still concerned stare with a teasing, “So go on. See if he’ll come over.”

“You…! You are…! I’m going to come up with something very mean and witty later!” Sputtering, Roman turned and flopped onto his bed, rapidly typing on his phone as Patton and Logan shared an amused look.

Patton waited for a minute, watching as Roman’s face lit up and prodding, “So?” 

“He’ll be here in a few minutes.” Roman answered a little too quickly, before turning an accusatory glare to Patton as he opened his mouth. “I don’t want to hear it!”

The three chatted idly for the next few minutes, Patton continually icing his face on and off until there was a sharp knock at the dorm door that Roman rushed to answer.

“...I hope this isn’t an intervention.” Virgil commented with a smirk, looking between the three in the room.

“Nope! Just a playdate!” Patton grinned from the bed, pulling the ice away from his face to flash him the widest smile he could muster. “Unless you want Logan and I to go so you two can have a real one!”

“Yuck. Like I’d ever spend alone time with his majesty, the royal pain in my ass.” Virgil stuck his tongue out, Patton giggling as Virgil cleared off a spot on Roman’s desk to hop up and sit down.

“Excuse me!” Roman gasped, offended, turning indignant eyes to the boy on his desk. “There is no need for such salty nicknames, Cynic-ella.”

“Not one of your best.” Virgil smirked as Roman gasped again, the two starting to bicker as Logan leaned over to Patton in confusion.

“What are they talking about?” 

“The school is doing a production of Cinderella, and Roman is the prince.” Patton explained, removing the ice from his face again as he watched Virgil and Roman go at each other fondly.

“Does that imply Virgil is playing the princess?” Logan asked, eyes widening as Patton doubled over laughing, his shoulders shaking with the effort of trying to stay relatively quiet. “Why are you laughing?”

“Virgil just helps him run his lines.” Patton corrected after he caught his breath, still shaking with the aftershocks of his laughing fit. “He doesn’t act.”

“Oh. I apologize, I misunderstood.” Logan nodded, before taking a lull in Virgil and Roman’s bickering as an opportunity for him to get off the bed and approach Roman to ask, “Could I bother you with a question or two?”

Roman blinked, awkwardly putting some extra space between the two before nodding, albeit a little confused. “Oh, um, sure. How can I help you?”

Patton didn't get to hear Logan’s question, his attention caught by Virgil jogging over and stealing Logan's spot on the bed. “Just so you know, I approve of him.”

“What?” Instantly turning bright red, Pattong almost threw the bag of ice he was holding in surprise as he glanced over to see Virgil’s self-satisfied grin. “No, it’s not—! I’m not—! How could I possibly—?”

“I don’t mean like that.” Virgil shook his head, but the words turned insincere as he added, “But if you want things to be like that you have my blessing as well—”

“Virge!” 

“He’s just cut from better cloth than your usual taste, that’s all.” Virgil defended, Patton going quiet as his friend's expression turned serious. “And for me to say that about a robot—even one who seems to be bordering on fully sentient—means a lot.”

“I know.” The heaviness of the words made Patton sigh, picking up the same cat pillow from earlier to give it a one handed hug as he put the ice back to his face. “I, uh, never thanked you. For all your help with…”

“You can thank me by being happy with Logan, alright?” Virgil smiled softly, reaching a hand out towards Patton’s shoulder and waiting for a tentative nod to give him a gentle pat and a squeeze for comfort. “Though I am surprised he and Roman can hold a conversation, given Ro’s aversion to—”

“HOW DARE YOU! ACTING IS SO MUCH MORE THAN ROLEPLAYING!” Roman suddenly yelled, Virgil and Patton sharing an unsurprised glance. “AND FOR THAT MATTER ROLEPLAYING IS ALSO AN ACCEPTABLE HOBBY!”

“I stand corrected. Let me go rein him in.” Virgil rolled his eyes, sliding off the bed and casually walking over to Roman. “What’s going on, you two?”

“I understand the concept of acting in theory, but the idea of representing false emotions I do not personally feel in front of an audience sounds rather strange. I simply asked him a question about it.” Logan looked at Virgil, visibly concerned by Roman’s outburst.

“No, you accused me of being shallow!” Roman whined, crossing his arms as Virgil shot an amused glance back at Patton.

“That was not my intention.” Logan frowned, brows knitting together as he earnestly continued, “I just wish to understand your… craft… a little better. I apologize if I upset you.”

Roman’s glare slowly tempered, eventually mumbling out, “Apology accepted, WALL-E.” A moment of silence started to stretch out, though it was nearly immediately broken by Roman commenting, “God, you really may as well just be a person.”

Logan blinked a few times, not following. “I can not tell if that is a complement or an insult.” 

“Me either.” Roman shrugged, before wildly gesturing across the room with a much less enraged shout of, “Quick subject change: Patton! How is your face?”

“Still stings.” Patton sighed, pressing the ice against his face and relishing in the familiar soothing feeling of the cold. “It’s not that bad, and it’ll only be like this for another day or two.”

“Can I take another look?” Virgil asked, something unreadable in his expression.

“Yeah, just…” 

“Be careful, I know.” Nodding, Virgil’s expression softened. “I won’t touch.” 

“I’m sure it looks worse than it is.” Patton tried to sound optimistic, moving the ice away from his face so Virgil could get a better look. 

“That’s not a comfort, Patton.” Roman chastised, sitting down on his bed with a huff. “I’m serious, if you just give me names, I’ll—!”

“Roman.” Virgil scolded without turning to look, Roman deflating.

“Sorry.” 

Seemingly satisfied, Virgil left Patton to nurse his face as Roman came over to continue to bug him, taking the moment to address Logan. “Patton’s single, by the way.” He said lightly, Logan jolting up in surprise as if he'd been shocked. “Just if you were wondering.”

“Why would I be wondering that?” Logan questioned, Virgil smirking at the visible tension in his shoulders.

“Your eyes are quite expressive.” Virgil answered honestly, sitting back up on Roman’s desk as Logan awkwardly hovered nearby. “His last try at dating ended pretty badly, but I think you’d be good for him.”

“Do not forget that I am not real. I am an android, Virgil.” Logan warned, Virgil raising his eyebrows disbelievingly. He cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring the look. “And while I understand you and Patton are quite close, don’t you feel as if you are overstepping?” 

“Not even a little.” Virgil grinned wide, Logan giving him a blank look in return. “Not since he started trying to set me up with Roman.”

“Then is this some form of retribution for that? Because I can assure you that Roman has some sort of feelings for—”

“Nah. Let’s just call it repaying the favor.” Virgil shrugged, crossing one leg over the other to lean just a little closer to Logan and mutter, “I know you’re more than the metal you think you are.”

Logan didn't have a reply, instead turning his attention back to Patton and Roman, who weren't arguing, per se, but Patton was thoroughly done with his roommate if his face was any indication of his feelings.

“Violence is never the answer, Roman!” 

“You’re right.” Roman acquiesced with a sigh, before a smile grew across his face as he dramatically gestured alongside his counter of, “Violence is the question, and the answer is a resounding yes!” 

“ROMAN!” 

[plushie-lovey]

🍎

🍎 how do you organize / store / display your plush collection? 

As of right now my display system is chaotic, since there's no room for racks of shelves. Most of my displayed plushies atm are sitting on top of boxes (boxes with more plushies in them, as well as some clothes I never unpacked when my fam and I moved to a new apartment 2 years back). And a few are sitting on top of the two nightstands I have, as well as behind my pillow in bed. Before a bunch of stuffed animals were displayed behind my computer screen too, but now they're in storage, save for a few I like to have in reach.

My ideal system tho (for when I move again), would be to have some of those large wire shelf racks they sell thru Walmart to use as displays. I'm still struggling to decide if I want to organize by species or color lol. Also my datemate and I agree that we're going to have a separate area for pokemon plush. Meanwhile, penguins and frogs will be displayed decoratively around the apartment (our signature animals)

Send me a fruit ask!

[tworoadsandapenny]

What You Wish For: Chapter 2. What's Left Behind

I hadn't meant to continue the story (it was originally a oneshot) but my brain had other ideas. So here we are.

Still an angsty mess of angst and crazy. You've been warned. This time it's all about Mikey.

~*~*~*~*~*~

 Everything was in place.

The books hadn’t moved from their shelves, lined in perfect order, not a crooked binding in sight. The weapons on the wall gleamed with polish, proudly displaying the care they received on a daily basis. The rug by the bed lay in a perfect circle, no tears or bumps or curled ends. The bed was made and tucked with hospital corners, pillows fluffed and awaiting their next use.

Perfect.

Just the way Leo liked it.

“It’s creepy. A room should look like it’s been lived in, you know? Yours looks like one of those fake bedrooms from the IKEA catalogues.”

“I like things clean.” Leo re-tucked the corner of the bed sheet Mikey had intentionally pulled out to give a messier look to the room. “You should try it. Maybe start by cleaning your room more than once a decade.”

Mikey picked up a book from the organized shelf, eyeing it warily. “Dude, even your books are too organized. Your clothes are put away, you can clearly see the floor, and there’s not a spec of dust on any of these shelves! How do you live like this!? It’s barbaric!” He turned in time to see his brother’s good-humoured eye-roll, and smiled in victory. “I’m just sayin’, you could stand to be a little less perfect. It wouldn’t kill you to, I don’t know, relax for a few minutes.”

Leo snatched the book from Mikey’s hand and placed it back in it’s spot on the shelf. “I relax. How do you think I read all these books?”

“Studying isn’t relaxing.” Mikey corrected. He saw the look in his brother’s eyes like he was actually considering Mikey’s words.

After a brief pause, Leo finally sighed heavily, shifting his foot to kick the rug at the foot of his bed so it was scrunched into a weird pile. “Satisfied?”

Mikey glanced from the rug to Leo’s expecting face and back. “…That’s it?”

“Baby steps.” Leo ruffled Mikey’s head as he walked by. “Come on, it’s time for my other relaxing activity.”

“What?”

Leo grinned. “Training.”

The younger turtle groaned, shaking his head. “Dude, does the term ‘perfectionist’ mean anything to you?”

“I skewed the rug, didn’t I?”

Mikey stepped beside his brother to place a hand on his shoulder, a mock-disappointment in his features. “Oh young padewan, so much to learn you have.”

Leo rolled his eyes once more, sighing a light chuckle that made the younger turtle smile in victory again. “Let’s go, Obi-Wan.”

“Yoda!” Mikey threw his hands up in an exasperated gesture. “So much to learn…”

Mikey loved making Leo smile. And laugh! Making Leo laugh was the greatest! He was the most challenging target of his brothers, by a long shot. Don would laugh at some of his jokes or pranks, and Raph would laugh if Don was the victim of said joke or prank. Casey and April were easy targets. Even Splinter chuckled at his antics from time to time. But Leo… Leo would smile, but not laugh. An actual burst of amusement from their leader was rare. Very rare. But when it happened, Mikey felt like he was on top of the world! It was like mastering a difficult kata. Made him feel accomplished. And it was always nice to see Leo actually relax for a minute. He was always so serious. So worried all the time.

Worried for everyone else.

Taking a timid step into the room, Mikey looked around and breathed in the smell. Candles and incense. Leo’s room always smelled like candles and incense. It smelled like the dojo, minus the sweaty body odour. It gave the room an air of gentleness. Calm. Like a spa or a sauna.

It felt like safety.

Mikey suddenly clamped his teeth on a choked breath. His lungs were like bricks, grating against his chest and scratching holes in his throat. He walked to the bed and looked at the book on the nightstand; The Art of War. Leo’d read it before. Mikey knew because his brother had read some of it to help him sleep one time after a nightmare.

Leo was always nice to Mikey about nightmares.

All his siblings were. They might jab him every once in a while if a nightmare sounded particularly ridiculous, but none of them would ever turn him away if he was scared. Ever.

But Leo somehow could tell without Mikey waking him up. There’d been several times over the years when Mikey would jolt awake, sweating and panting and terrified out of his mind, only to find Leo sitting on his bed, pulling him into a comforting hug before he even had a chance to panic. To this day, Mikey still had no idea how Leo did it.

Now he’d never know.

Reaching for the book, Mikey was about to pick it up when a voice in his head made him hesitate.

‘Leo would be upset if he knew I was in here rooting through his stuff. Especially if I lost his page.’

The idea brought a strangled laugh from Mikey’s throat. What a thought! What a stupid, stupid thought! Leo wouldn’t care! Leo wouldn’t be upset!

Because Leo couldn’t care about anything anymore. Couldn’t care about his stuff, about his privacy, about his training or the missions.

Couldn’t care about his family. His brothers.

Mikey.

Because Leo was gone. And he wasn’t ever coming back.

Mikey choked on his own breath as a pain like a switchblade to his stomach crawled through his whole upper body. He felt sick. He was totally gonna hurl all over Leo’s stuff. Leo would be—

Wouldn’t care. Couldn’t. ‘Cause Leo was gone.

Forever.

Mikey collapsed to the floor, his arms resting on his brother’s bed as his hands gripped the blankets like they were the only thing tethering him to the world. There was a ringing in his ears that drowned everything out, but he knew he was crying. Screaming. Hot tears charged down his cheeks in an unending stampede as his voice threw out whatever sounds it could to try and stop the pain.

Make it stop. Make it go away.

Bring him back.

Leo!

“Over here, Don!” Mikey called as he came into view of his two eldest brothers on the roof. Leo was lying prone on the ground, with Raph curled over him, heads touching as Raph held a hand on Leo’s stomach. Mikey was just about to make a perfectly witty comment about his older brothers’ odd position when the wind brought the smell of blood to his nostrils with such power, it almost knocked him backward. His eyes suddenly snapped open, darting around to find the source and landing on the blood pooling around Leo’s mid section and trickling away with the rain. His voice became abruptly terrified. “LEO!”

Not even waiting to see if Don was behind him, Mikey jumped to the roof, falling beside his brother to grip his hand. His breath hitched immediately; Leo’s hand was freezing! And his skin looked like he’d been dipped in bleach! “Dude, what—“ The question dropped away before he could get it out.

Leo’s eyes were closed.

And Mikey felt his body going numb. No… No Don said it would be OK. He said Leo would fine. He said there was nothing to—

Mikey nearly jumped when Don kneeled beside him. “Dude, you said he was fine!“

“Raph, move your hand.”

Don’s voice was calm, that had to mean he had a plan. He knew how to fix this. Leo was gonna be OK. And Mikey clung to that hope with every fibre of his being.

“Raph!” Don finally managed to pry his brother’s hand away from the wound on Leo’s stomach and the fearful breath he choked on made Mikey grip the icy hand he held tighter.

“You can help him, right Don? You can…” His eyes were drawn to his second eldest brother as Raph finally lifted his head from Leo’s. The look on his face froze Mikey’s heart.

No…

“L-Leo…” Mikey could feel himself shaking. “Don, you have to do something! Leo’s not breathing! He’s bleeding and he’s not breathing! You have to—“

Don’s hand gripped his shoulder and sent a chill down Mikey’s spine. Why weren’t they doing anything!? Why weren’t they moving!?

Why wasn’t Leo breathing!?

“No…” Mikey pulled away from Don to reach out and grab his eldest’s shoulders, ignoring how icy cold they felt, and shake him. “Leo, wake up! This isn’t funny, dude! Open your eyes!”

“Mikey…”

“NO! He’s not dead! He can’t be!“ How could they just give up like that!? They had to try something! “Leo! Leo, open your eyes! Come on!” Everything in Mikey was in denial. Because this couldn’t be real. Couldn’t! Leo always made it out—every time he got hurt, he always got better. Always! He’d never… He couldn’t…

Oh God…

“LEO!” It felt as though something in his chest broke, and suddenly Mikey felt… everything. Pain so intense, he couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe!

He cried.

His shoulders quaked as he gripped his brother’s frozen hand, laying his head on Leo’s unmoving chest, and he cried. His mind still shouted in denial, but his heart kept ripping apart at the seams.

Leo was dead. He was really gone…

Mikey didn’t even feel Don curl around him in a tight hug. He couldn’t feel Leo’s hand in his anymore. Could only feel the pain in his chest where his heart should be.

And the tears. He couldn’t stop crying. Couldn’t stop…

“LEO!!!”

The same tears as on the roof were running down Mikey’s cheeks again as he gripped Leo’s bedding and buried his face in the blankets. The pain in his chest was still there. It’d been a month since Leo…

And Mikey still felt like he’d been taken apart and put together with pieces missing.

Another surge of anguish had Mikey burying his head further into the blankets, making it harder to breathe. He just wanted to curl up and never feel anything ever again. It all hurt too much. From Leo’s perfect bedroom to the extra chair at the kitchen table, to the space on the couch where Leo liked to read. It all screamed their loss. Screamed it so loud it was impossible not to hear, impossible to ignore, impossible to block out.

Mikey cried even louder, feeling his lungs grasp for air with every breath as his chest did it’s best to pry itself open through his plastron.

“Leo!” He was gone. His leader. His defender. His role model.

His big brother was dead. And the world somehow expected him to just move past it and keep living.

Mikey suddenly couldn’t breathe at all. There was too much! Too much pain, too much memory, too much desperation! Where was Leo!? Why wasn’t he here!? How could he have—Why did he have to—

A hand to his shoulder snapped Mikey’s head up, frightened eyes darting as his lungs burned with protest.

“Breathe, Michelangelo. Deep breaths.” Splinter inhaled fully, watching carefully as his son copied his movements, taking one slow breath after another until the color returned to his face.

The two sat in silence as Mikey continued to inhale and exhale slowly, trying to stop the tears still pouring down his face. When he finally spoke, it was rough and grated, like he’d been screaming for hours. Maybe he had. “It’s not fair, Sensei. He wasn’t supposed to… He always had a plan. He always made it out. Why did he...”

Words wouldn’t form anymore past the lump in his throat, and Mikey felt his panic rising again. Splinter drew his son’s gaze and took a moment to breathe together once more.

“Leo’s dead!” Mikey cried, falling into his father’s arms as fresh tears leapt down his cheeks. “It’s not fair! He’s gone… he’s really—it’s not fair! Why him!? Why Leo!? He never did anything but help people, why’d he have to—“ A sob pierced through his lips as all his emotions poured out at once, choking the life from him. “I want him back, Sensei… I want Leo back! We can’t keep going without him! I don’t want to! We need—we can’t just—How could he—“

“I know…” Splinter held his son close against his chest, caressing the dome of his head to calm his breathing.

Mikey wrapped his arms around his Father, sobbing into his robe. “…he’s dead… he’s really dead…”

Splinter closed his eyes to the grief crawling from his heart to his throat and focused on his youngest child, holding on tightly. He said not a word, but his silence said everything.

I miss him, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Previous < - > Next

Yup. Angst Angst Angst. But angst always leads to comfort. Eventually...

End of Line.

-TRAaP

[hesitantvampirealien]

i redecorated a vanilla structure from the End in minecraft

(i can't run shaders with mods or my game dies, sorry)

bicycle - cluttered

living room

shelf behind couch, green cabinet, purple table, china cabinet, mugs on table, book pile on table, wall board, pink shelf with books, mail on table - cluttered

couch, ottoman, cushions, furry carpet, lamp on table, cherry drawers and tv stand/table - re:deco

tv - framed blocks, immersive paintings

flower pot on tv's side - framed blocks

crimson wall clock - cozy home

bedroom

90% of everything - cluttered

bed + sheets and pillow - handcrafted

i forgot from which mod the curtains are.. sorry

kitchen

tables, chairs, tablecloths and chair cushions - handcrafted

food on plates and in item displays, knife on cutting board and i assume also the stove - end's delight (needs farmer's delight)

item displays - re:deco

cutting board, pan and skillet - farmer's delight

everything else - cluttered

[superblysubpar]

I'm so deeply late with my reblog of this, I literally had all these quotes pulled and I read it so long ago and I've been thinking about it every day, seriously. I read this next to my husband on a hammock in my favorite place in the world and he fell asleep and I smacked his chest at the end, and then gushed about several scenes.

The SD card?! That ending?!

Anyways. I love this. I love them. I love you 💛

The coffee was good. The coffee was really good. It could have been that it warmed the ache in his spine from scrunching on a sofa that wasn’t long enough for his legs, but Steve knew it was good because you waited expectantly for him to take a sip, eyes wide in wonder and curiosity.

“S’good,” he licked his lips.

For some reason, this turned my legs to jelly. Like, I don't know. I just love that we're excited for him to try it and he knows it and ahhhhhh!!! (that was me, screaming into my pillow)

“How do you do it?” Steve asked, regretting his word choice immediately when you turned to flash him a cocked eyebrow. “I mean, how do you know what to capture?” 

You shrugged, snapped a few, glanced at the display on the back of your camera. “I don’t think it’s a conscious thing. If you hunt for something, you’ll never find it.”

HEY! EVERY TIME THIS STORY AND THIS READER AND/OR STEVE TALK ABOUT HER PHOTOGRAPHY I WEEP. I YEARN. I SHATTER AND THEN GET GLUED BACK TOGETHER WITH SOMETHING SHINY. I FEEL INCREDIBLY SEEN 😭

You were annoyed at whatever the view finder was showing you, and even that was cute. 

Sunlight haloed around him, roses climbing the walls behind his head, out of focus. He looked comfortable. He looked hopeful. A soft smile was etched across his features, and he looked madly and irrevocably in love. 

He’d followed you all day, through the cemetery and back through your neighborhood. You tugged on the passenger’s side door handle of his car until it was unlocked, and you’d given him street-by-street instructions on where to go. 

I love her, us, me, idk you know what I mean 💛

Steve nodded. He could still feel the satisfying crunch of Eddie’s teeth before the lanky ass guitarist hit the ground. “I used to fight a lot. Daddy issues.” 

This whole back story of why Steve's with Eddie, why he feels so guilty about us oh my gooooodddddddddd.

I'm gonna throw up.

He shrugged, scratched at the back of his head. “Not great. Big buildings and fire escapes.”

“There’s beauty in that.” You smiled, slipping the blinds open to peer through.

Me to you from all these photography moments god dammit amanda:

Steve: We’re at my apartment. Why didn’t you tell me how disgusting I am?

Robin: I do every time I’m there, dingus. When’s the last time you had a girl over?

Steve: Please don’t make me feel worse.

He nodded again, shoving his hands in his pockets to avoid the temptation to tangle his fingers with yours. “She’s single if you’re looking.” 

THIS WHOLE SCENE! HOW MESSY HE IS!! HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH ROBIN!!! OUR CONFUSION ON HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH ROBIN!!!! THEM! HIM! THIS!!!

THE SD CARD SCENE!!! THE INTERRUPTION FROM EDDIE!!!!!!

His best friend rounded to the other shelf, freckled face exposed when he removed the next book. He sighed and replaced it to cover her grin. 

With a tug of his arm, she twirled him to face her. Sun poured in from a skylight, warm and yellow, illuminating the blue in Robin’s eyes. Steve wondered if you would capture a moment like this. 

I just really really loved this scene and these descriptions and I love Robin's little well meaning meddling ass 💛

“And I thought telling myself it was casual every single day would keep me at arm’s length, but that’s not how emotions work. I can’t just stop how I feel or who I’m in love with or -” You went silent in your chair. 

“And now I’m getting death threats and am terrified for my life, and Eddie Munson is in love with me, and I can’t even reciprocate even though he’s the most genuine, sweetest man I know because part of me is still holding out hope that you feel the same way about me as I do about you.” You hissed, glancing over his shoulder to ensure no one could eavesdrop on this onslaught of confessions.

THAT WHOLE ENDING. HE WAS SUPPOSED TO GIVE HER THE SD CARD BACK. KISS ME. I-

I CAN'T BREATHE RIGHT NOWWWWWWW

COME BACK AND FIX THIS AMANDA

Hell Hound • Part Two

After a few days spent protecting you, a promising lead is found. Steve is wracked with nightmares. You grow closer.

Pairing: bodyguard!Steve Harrington x photographer!Reader, rockstar!Eddie x Reader

Wordcount: 9,770

Warnings: unrequited love, slowburn, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, gore, weapons, fighting, death threats, stalker *This chapter also contains allusions of voyeurism, sex, drinking, recreational drug use, overdose, religious elements

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist

---

Moodboard • Fic Masterlist • Part Three [Coming soon]

Robin: Have you told her yet?

“I need to get out.” You said it, slinging your denim jacket over each arm. 

Steve’s breath tasted of your toothpaste, and his hair smelled of your shampoo, and he would’ve gone with you over the border to Canada if you’d asked. 

Instead, you carted him down several flights of stairs and the opposite direction of his car and the gallery and to a little park with a coffee kiosk on the corner. You ordered for him and boxed him out of paying, and you waited in silence, smiles playing on your faces. 

The coffee was good. The coffee was really good. It could have been that it warmed the ache in his spine from scrunching on a sofa that wasn’t long enough for his legs, but Steve knew it was good because you waited expectantly for him to take a sip, eyes wide in wonder and curiosity.

“S’good,” he licked his lips.

Satisfied with his answer, you started off again.

Steve hurried to keep up. “Where’re we going?” 

You smiled and didn’t respond, but slowed your pace to let him fall in step beside you.

Sunlight fell, dappled, through the trees as you walked, and birds chirped, and eventually, you passed through wrought iron gates. The sidewalk grew wider, and with it the distance between the two of you, still at a brisk walk.

“Let’s sit,” you nodded toward a stone bench nearby, and Steve followed you there. 

You set your coffee on the bench beside you and began to dig through your leather bag for your camera and whatever size lens you’d deemed the perfect fit. 

Steve peeled his gaze from the concentration etched into your forehead to glance around, curious of your subject. It wasn’t until then that he realized you’d pulled him into a cemetery. His jaw ached a little. “What uh… what’re we doing here?” 

You shrugged, a sly smile curling peachy pink lips. You nodded behind him. “Saw those lattice roses last week, wanted to get them in softer lighting.” 

Behind him, curling their way up stone and iron fencing, were peachy pink roses. A few had seen better days, petals gathering at the base of the wall, but more were reaching skyward, bloomed and beautiful and delicate.

“How do you do it?” Steve asked, regretting his word choice immediately when you turned to flash him a cocked eyebrow. “I mean, how do you know what to capture?” 

You shrugged, snapped a few, glanced at the display on the back of your camera. “I don’t think it’s a conscious thing. If you hunt for something, you’ll never find it.”

Steve hummed, took another drink of coffee. He wondered what Robin’d say to that philosophy. Sounds like your love life, dingus. He rolled his eyes. “What about these roses?” 

You tilted your head, snapped a few more, looked at the display again. “It’s a little about anticipation. I knew these roses would wilt. I knew a storm was coming in, and that usually batters them. Fresh flowers in a cemetery doesn’t tell a story.” 

God, you really were perfect, weren’t you?

You were annoyed at whatever the view finder was showing you, and even that was cute. 

You must have felt him watching because you glanced up and immediately pulled your camera in front of your face and started clicking away. “And what about you, Steve Harrington?” You smirked. “What is your story?”

Steve stiffened and dropped his other leg to the ground, sneakers grinding into dead leaves on the asphalt. 

You laughed and swept his insecurities away. “Quit being weird,” you snorted. “Just talk to me.”

“About what?” He couldn’t help but smile, trying to ignore the gentle click, click, click of the shutter. 

You looked at the view finder and seemed as displeased as you were with the roses. You took a few steps back and got down on one knee, shooting up at him.

Self-conscious, Steve crossed an arm over his chest.

“Stop it,” you scolded, eyes bright, smiling playing on your lips. “Tell me about your life outside of this.” You gestured vaguely to his person and snapped a few more shots. 

You snickered at the frown he pulled.

“You know like, outside of being a bodyguard slash private investigator slash Tour Mom. Are you close with your family? Does your girlfriend miss having you around?” 

Steve sunk a little further into the bench, letting a breath burst from puffed cheeks. He ran his thumb along the perforated ridge of his cup’s sleeve. “Uh no and no… um… no girlfriend.”

You looked up at him then with the same pity and sadness he felt in the depths of his person.

He tried to hide behind his drink, wishing there was something stronger in his cup.

“Oh my God, Steve, I’m so sorry. Eddie didn’t tell me. You and Robin broke up?”

He sputtered around the sting in his nostrils and wiped at coffee that splattered and stained his pants. “Robin isn’t… no. I mean, she’s drop dead gorgeous and like the second best person I know, but no.” He shook his head, frantically. The amount of women that left him because of his relationship with Robin was honestly astounding, but he never imagined he’d have to explain it to you.

You sucked your cheeks in to shut yourself up and squinted, trying to decipher his ramblings. 

He blanched. “Robin’s gay.” 

You blinked for a moment and then barked a laugh. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. You just… you and Eddie talk about her so much, I just figured…” 

Steve nodded. He understood. “I get it, but nope. We’re just best friends.”

Your laughter slowed to something softer, and he could have sworn he felt something spark in your gaze, in the way your lashes fluttered.

You snapped another photo and seemed satisfied with what you found in the display. You turned the camera his direction to see.

Sunlight haloed around him, roses climbing the walls behind his head, out of focus. He looked comfortable. He looked hopeful. A soft small was etched across his features, and he looked madly and irrevocably in love. 

“Blue’s your color.” You commented, detaching your lens and packing your things away.

—

Cheap hangers screeched against metal racks, and you pulled another blouse with 80s shoulder pads and held it up. 

Steve made a face. 

You conceded and replaced it on its rack and kept pushing. 

He’d followed you all day, through the cemetery and back through your neighborhood. You tugged on the passenger’s side door handle of his car until it was unlocked, and you’d given him street-by-street instructions on where to go. 

You’d inquired about half-a-million things about his life, none of which he was happy to share, but all of which he’d share again if it meant seeing your face light up the way it did when he rolled his eyes.

You found a thrift store along the route and insisted you’d pick an outfit for him if he picked one for you, and he leisurely followed you down each aisle, turning down anything and everything made of satin and silk and printed in florals. 

“I really shouldn’t let you peak,” you informed him finally, hand on your hip. 

He opened his mouth to protest, but you waved him off. 

“Women’s is over there.” You spouted your size. “Don’t make me look ugly.” 

He couldn’t if he tried.

With a sigh, he turned to tackle the circular women’s racks. He wondered if he should pull something in your favorite color, or a color that complimented your eyes the same way the peachy pink lipstick did. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Eddie: How’s my girl doing?

My girl. Steve’s heart sunk. He glanced back up at you, arms already teeming with bright yellows and forest greens. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself get lost in today, that he’d forgotten why he was here with you. It wasn’t because you’d asked, it was because he was being paid to keep an eye on you, to ensure your safety.

At that moment, a young man approached you. Steve stiffened and took a handful of strides closer to get a better look and a better listen.

“Is that a camera bag?” He asked. “Very cool.” 

His earring jangled beneath a curly blonde mullet: a hipster type. He wore a white tank top and Levis, and his blue eyes darted between you and the clothing rack and back again. 

Steve bristled.

“Okay,” the kid spoke again. “This is going to sound like… really weird, but I think I’m following you.”

You looked back up at him, wide-eyed and arms full, but managed a smile and a thank you. There was something else though. Steve saw the way you were looking at the guy, saw the way fear sparked in your features when the kid reached into his back pocket for something - his phone. Suddenly, frantically, you were looking around the store.

“On instagram? I just wanted to say I think your work is incredible.”

Steve was two steps ahead. He swung his arm around your shoulders and brought you in tight, pressing his lips to your temple. “Sorry, babe, the line to the bathroom was surprisingly long. What’d you find me? Oh, who’s this?”

You stiffened before sinking into him, gesturing to the stranger with his phone out. “Steve, he was just telling me he’s a fan of my work. Isn’t that great?”

Steve plastered on a grin and nodded. “She is incredible, isn’t she?” 

The kid nodded and put his phone down, features pulled tight in an awkward smile. “Absolutely.” 

“You have excellent taste,” Steve glanced down the kid’s body for any sign of a weapon. He extended a hand. “What’s your name, bro?”

You were frozen in your spot. Steve could feel your pulse against his side. 

The guy eyed you warily before shaking your guard dog’s hand. “Billy Hargrove.” 

“Good to meet you, Billy.”

Billy nodded, though now his expression had pulled into a frown, seemingly a bit miffed to have been interrupted. He straightened his shoulders and turned his focus solely on you. “I really just wanted to say congrats on the gallery opening.”

“Thank you,” your voice came out in a flush of air, and Steve released his hold on you, worried he was squeezing the air from your lungs. 

“Good meeting you both, I guess,” Billy shot Steve a look. “I’ll let you get back to it.” 

When he left, you deposited armfuls of clothing to the top of the nearest rack. It teetered under the weight. 

Steve bent to catch your gaze, but your face was stoic.

You adjusted the strap of your camera bag and sighed. “Pizza? I’m starving.”

—

1 Voicemail

Steve, it’s Hop. Yeah, William Hargrove does have a couple of priors: B&E and a little GTA, but he was a minor. It’s a good lead. I’ve got Callahan heading down to ask him a few questions. Stay safe. Let me know if anything else happens. Stay sharp.

Steve sighed and reentered the small pizzeria.

The pizza lay steaming, untouched in front of you. You sat against a red brick wall, chewing on a thumbnail and scrolling through something on your phone.

As he approached, he could just make out the blurry mirror selfies of a douchebag in a backwards baseball cap. He had a skull tattoo on one bicep and had a difficult time keeping his tongue in his mouth. 

Steve cleared his throat, and you locked your phone, screen going black. “Everything okay?”

He pulled out the seat across from you and made about shelving gooey pizza onto each of your plates. 

You hummed, but your gaze remained far off, staring at something written in chalk on the menu over his shoulder. 

He tugged a handful of napkins from the dispenser and placed one in his lap before passing another to you. Then, he lifted the drooping piece of pizza high enough to manage one scalding bite. Instantly, it torched the roof of his mouth, and his eyes watered in his swallow.

He supposed the pain was worth the uptick he found at the corners of your mouth. 

“I was letting it cool,” you explained. 

He nodded and chugged some iced soda until a burp pushed its way up his esophagus. He hid that behind a fist and pounded a little at the burn in his chest, but again, it was worth it to see your eyes sparkle like that.

“Don’t move,” you said, reaching into the bag beside you.

Steve froze, as instructed, fingers dangling greasy above his plate.

You camera covered your face, massive lens encroaching in his space in what he knew couldn’t be a flattering angle, but he felt himself melt when he heard your chuckle behind the viewfinder.

“Lemme see,” he said.

You cocked a brow, but flipped the camera to show him the image.

He had a string of cheese on his chin, which he scrambled to wipe off, and the image taken made it look like he had two floppy ears and a long, wagging tail. Frowning, he turned to find a golden retriever had been chalked to the wall directly behind him. 

He snorted and wiped his hands on the napkin in his lap. “Glad I can amuse you.”

You nodded, putting your camera away. “Very much.”

A notification lit up your phone. The background was an image of the gallery bustling with people. Steve spotted himself in the foreground, arms crossed, head thrown back in laughter. He remembered speaking with the woman beside him about her kids’ art projects. One had brought home a macaroni necklace the cat ate.

Another notification dinged. Instagram.

Steve glanced up to see you stiffen in your chair. “What’s wrong?” 

You blinked, shrugged, plastered on a smile that didn’t meet your eyes. “Nothing. All good.” You dove in to your pizza.

Seeing you hadn’t managed to burn your own mouth, Steve ventured another go. He couldn’t taste much.

The two of you ate in silence, some catchy pop tune absorbing into the brick walls surrounding you both. Your phone continued to light up with notifications, and Steve felt his own buzz in his pocket a few times.

“So,” you said around a mouthful, “tell me something else about you, Steve.”

“Like what?” He wiped at his cheeks with a new napkin.

Before you could pose a question, the song changed overhead to one distinctly familiar. Heavy drums and masterful guitar playing filled the little pizzeria.

That killer smile spread across your features again, and your head began to bob along to the track. You pulled a pepperoni from your slice, stretching the cheese with it, and popped it between slick lips, licking your fingertips.

“How did you and Eddie meet?”

Steve licked his teeth clean and dished you both another slice. “At a party, through a mutual friend.”

You rolled your wrist for him to elaborate, taking another large bite.

He shrugged and peeled a rogue pepperoni from the tray. “We have this friend name Chrissy Cunningham.”

“The cam girl?” You dropped your pizza.

Steve warmed under your gaze, wishing he could read your mind. He wondered how much information to tell you, wondered what might spook you, wondered what Eddie had undoubtedly already let slip. 

He cleared his throat and picked at some rogue cheese on the plate. “So, Chrissy invited me to this house party, and it was in his huge ass house way out in the suburbs, and there were all of these famous people there, like so many I couldn’t even process it. It felt like I was in my television, like MTV growing up.”

You smiled and nodded, taking a sip of your soda.

“And there was this asshole from Corroded Coffin coked out of his mind -” Steve stopped himself. He wasn’t sure if Eddie had told you about the Coke Years.

You cocked a brow, leaning forward, seemingly intrigued by this salacious story.

Steve swallowed his words and leaned a little on his elbows. “Anyway, we got in a fight.”

“Like a fist fight?” Your eyes went wide.

Steve nodded. He could still feel the satisfying crunch of Eddie’s teeth before the lanky ass guitarist hit the ground. “I used to fight a lot. Daddy issues.” 

You laughed at that, a barked sound that sent his heart racing.

He smiled and shrugged. “Anyway, he got my number from Chrissy and called me the next day to tell me I was hired.”

“He didn’t ask?” You frowned. 

Steve shrugged, picked up a new slice to take a bite. “Eddie Munson has a way of getting what he wants.”

You hummed and glanced down at your phone as another notification illuminated the screen. 

“I sometimes think he’s just a curator of really great people,” Steve said, tilting his head to catch your gaze. 

You smiled at that and took another slice of pizza from the tray. “He told me you saved his life.”

Steve could still smell the mix of sweat and cigarettes that clung to his clothes, could still feel the clammy cold skin of his friend’s cheeks, could still feel his fingers hit the back of the other boy’s throat. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

The bodyguard set down his pizza and wiped his hands on his napkin before answering.

“Hello?”

“Steve? It’s Powell. That Hargrove kid was acting shady so Callahan took him in. It’s looking good that he might be our guy, but just to be safe, is there anywhere you can take her tonight, just in case?”

Steve watched you watch him from across the table. “Yeah, yeah I could take her to mine.”

—

Steve hoped you hadn’t felt this vulnerable when unlocking your own door and pushing it open to let him in.

The moment he followed you over the threshold to his apartment, he second-guessed everything he owned.

The place was a wreck of pizza boxes piled near the front door. The whisky bottle Robin had bought him was next to an open, but dead laptop. He really had just up and abandoned everything when you called.

“This is it,” he introduced the space, feeling itchy under your scrutiny while you looked around.

His leather couch had a Joyce-crocheted blanket tossed over the back. He was grateful for the coffee table books gifted and stacked neatly where they belonged. Quickly, he crunched the open bag of chips left in the seam of the couch and stuffed it into an overflowing snack cabinet.

“I like it,” you nodded, taking a few steps forward to the window, gesturing for permission. “How’s your view?”

He shrugged, scratched at the back of his head. “Not great. Big buildings and fire escapes.”

“There’s beauty in that.” You smiled, slipping the blinds open to peer through.

Light spilled in, caressing your cheekbones and shining through your hair.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

If Robin were here, she’d kick him.

You hummed, satisfied by what you found, and turned to face him. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

His bathroom was worse than he thought. He scrambled to scoop dried toothpaste from the sink and re-roll toilet paper that had gone rogue. Not one, but three sets of boxer-briefs were discarded on a navy blue rug. Thank God Robin had reminded him to scrub the toilet before she came to visit.

“Smells like you in here,” you mumbled from the hallway as you swapped spaces.

Steve warmed.

“Your aftershave,” you said with mischief in your eyes. “Give me a minute?”

Bumbling like an idiot, he gave you space and wandered down the hall to him room, once again scrambling to pick up piles of clothes.

Steve: We’re at my apartment. Why didn’t you tell me how disgusting I am?

Robin: I do every time I’m there, dingus. When’s the last time you had a girl over?

Steve: Please don’t make me feel worse.

Dirty dishes went from the nightstand to the sink, and he made about loading his little dishwasher. The kitchen was easy to tidy in piles. Luckily the garbage didn’t smell too bad.

After a long, quiet while, he glanced up from his phone to find the bathroom open and abandoned. Dim light splashed into the hall from his room. With a frown, he toed down the hall to find you admiring photos pinned to a cork board above his dresser. 

“Can I help you?”

You shrugged and smiled. “I showed you mine.”

He wondered if you found his bedroom to suit him as much as yours had suited you. He glanced around at a plaid duvet, lightweight curtains, the baseball bat he kept at his bedside. 

“Is this Robin?” You tapped your fingertips to a polaroid of him and his best friend, faces squished in smiles. 

He nodded.

“She’s pretty.”

He nodded again, shoving his hands in his pockets to avoid the temptation to tangle his fingers with yours. “She’s single if you’re looking.” 

“I just might be,” you shot him a sly look.

Steve warmed at the idea, a challenge stirring under his ribs. 

“What’s on this?” Your hand found the SD card. “Top secret files? Blackmail?”

Heart racing now, he shrugged. “You tell me. It’s yours.”

You frowned back at him.

Cat’s out of the bag now. “You gave it to me at the hometown after party.”

You played with the tiny card in your hand for a moment. “You were supposed to give it back.” 

Steve’s mouth went dry, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I must have pulled it out of my pocket and forgot it was there.” 

You shook your head and looked up at him. “No, at the party. You were supposed to come find me at some point. Did I… was it not obvious?”

His pulse thundered in his head.

You just blinked back at him, expressionless like you hadn’t just confirmed everything he’d been doubting for months now.

His mouth just hung open like an idiot until he rubbed some feeling back into his face and willed himself closer

You continued to weigh the SD card in each of your hands, and he held his breath as you inched nearer. Your boots rested between his sneakers. “When you had me sign that NDA - “

Steve’s phone rang in his back pocket, a loud ringtone that came with the device that he hadn’t heard since he bought the thing. He must have accidentally taken it off silence when he was doing the dishes. 

Cursing, he pulled it out to see an unknown number. He slid the answer button. “Hello?”

“Stevie? It’s Lizzie!” A familiar voice cooed from the other line, a little scattered, a little broken. “Where the hell are you?”

Steve stared back down at you, breath heavy in his chest. “I’m in Chicago. Where are you?”

“Backstage with this fucker who tells me he’s met the love of his life. Is that true? And if that’s the case, where are you? I need a good cock to sit on.” A hair-raising cackle preceded a shuffle.

He could feel your warmth now, smell the peppermint on your breath, the lavender in your hair.

“Harrington? It’s me, it’s Eddie. You there?”

In a flash, he saw his friend bent over a pile of vomit, strapped to a gurney, disappearing behind red and blue lights.

“I’m here.” Steve muttered.

“You got my girl, Stevie? Keeping her safe? Put her on.”

Wordlessly, Steve held the phone loft between you, putting it on speaker.

“Sugar, you there?”

You blinked back at him before glancing down at the device. “I’m here, Eds.”

“God, I miss you both. England isn’t the same without you. I’ve been telling everyone here about you, Sug. You’ve probably gotten a million offers today just from me bragging about you. I’m really proud of you, you know that right?”

“Thanks, Eds.” You breathed.

Steve pushed the phone into your hand and trailed his thumb down your wrist, catching goosebumps all the way to the crease of your elbow. He hated the sour taste that accompanied every word Munson said.

“Recorded a song about you today. I got very jealous hearing Simon sing about you.”

Steve let his hand fall to his side before he gestured back down the hallway and let you have your privacy. His hand tingled, and he flexed it in a vain attempt to shake away your touch.

—

Hopper: Got him, kid. Great job. Tell the girl she can rest easy.

—

You were all-encompassing, everything above and around him, a tight pull that had him on the verge of combustion. You were silky smooth, and soft mews spilled from between plush lips as you sunk down onto him, head cast back to expose the beautiful column of your throat. 

Steve’s hand was pressed to your bare sternum, dwarfing your frame as he extended his touch to every part of you, desperate to squeeze and caress while the stars began to spin behind his eyes.

Directly above him, you were mirrored, the steady push and pull of your bodies, the rucking of his hips on white satin sheets for all the world to see.

He breathed your name, whined it really, in desperation, begging for you to go faster, to slow down, he didn’t know, he just felt the curl of his stomach, his toes, the building of that climax about to burst. 

And then he heard the thunk, a distinct crash of glass and pill bottles from the adjacent suite bathroom. 

He took two steps inward to find the Devil himself lying motionless beside the bathtub. Scarlet red skin, cloven feet, two horns that jutted from beneath jet black curls. 

Steve shook his head, feeling the weight of something in each of his hands. An empty pill bottle and a fifth of whisky. You did this.

No, no, no, no. Steve knelt beside the man, slapping ruby red cheeks, shaking at a studded leather jacket. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He pried the man’s mouth open to expose pointed fangs. 

“Guess you’ll have to take my place,” the man said, eyes wide and ice blue. “You’re the Devil now.” 

—

“Holy fucking shit,” Robin exclaimed, all limbs, blocking the aisle in a local bookstore.

Steve shushed her and pulled a photography book off the shelf. He wondered if you were familiar, if you’d thumbed through the pages with a glass of wine in hand, curled into your futon, maybe you were wearing a nightgown… Jesus Christ.

“You had a Wet Nightmare?”

“Not quite as satisfying as it sounds.”

Robin made a face of disgust. “Please spare me.”

Steve sighed and returned the book to its shelf, pressing on through the aisles as though he had something to look for that didn’t remind him of you.

His best friend rounded to the other shelf, freckled face exposed when he removed the next book. He sighed and replaced it to cover her grin. 

“So, what do you think it means?” She asked, having returned to his side and looped her lanky arm through his.

“I don’t know, Rob,” he ran a hand through his hair. 

“I mean, it feels pretty obvious.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Enlighten me.” 

With a tug of his arm, she twirled him to face her. Sun poured in from a skylight, warm and yellow, illuminating the blue in Robin’s eyes. Steve wondered if you would capture a moment like this. 

“You feel immense guilt over trying to steal Eddie’s girl when you promised him you’d make her fall in love with him.” 

Moment ruined.

Steve palmed her face and shoved her away.

She swatted at his arm and chased him past the meow of a little ginger shop cat and down a new aisle.

“I’m not trying to steal her,” he muttered when she finally caught up.

“I know you’re not, dingus. You’re much to chivalrous for that crap.” Robin nodded, rubbing a circle into his shoulder. 

Steve hummed and pulled a book from the shelf, too heavy, probably a million pages, with a dragon on the cover. The dragon’s eyes were wreathed in flame, his scarlet scarlet. He shelved it. “You should have seen his face.”

“The Devil on the ground? He wasn’t real, babe.”

Steve rubbed at tired eyes and shook his head. “No, Eddie. It’s like, the second he realized he might lose her, he freaked. And I think the most irritating part is that I felt it too. I thought she was going to run and that I’d never see her again because I have to pick him.”

Robin nodded, sliding a book from the shelf to read the back cover. “And why do you feel like you have to pick him?”

Steve swallowed. He knew the answer. It had been nagging at him for days, spinning around in his skull with images of those empty bottles, those tile floors. “Because he needs me.”

His best friend kept her face incredibly expressionless as she flipped through the novel in her hands. Then, with a sigh, she said, “I’m going to ask this will all of the love and understanding in the world. Do you think maybe you need him because something inside of you needs to feel needed?”

Steve didn’t respond, just felt his molars grit around the pang in his chest when her insight hit the nail on the head.

Robin replaced the book on the shelf. “Eddie’s a big boy. He’s grown a lot over the years, thanks to you, and I know he just wants what’s best for you. I think he’ll understand.” 

“You think he’ll understand that I’m trying to steal his girl?”

She shot him a look. “I thought you weren’t.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I think when you talk to him, he’ll understand why you can’t be his wingman this time.” She shrugged, turning the corner down another aisle. Books were stacked to the ceiling near an open stockroom, and her fingertips etched the spines. 

“Remind me why you came to town? To torture me?” Steve leaned against a big rolling ladder, locked into place. 

“I missed you, idiot,” she pinched his cheek and carried on into Science Fiction. 

He swatted her away and followed. His phone felt heavy in his pocket, words left unsaid between the two of you, a wordless trek to the gallery. You thanked him at drop-off. You promised him you’d call if anything came up and that you felt safer knowing Hargrove was locked up. Steve promised you he’d have a good time with Robin and that he was happy you felt safe.

Neither of you said anything about the SD card, about the phone call with Eddie.

Maybe Robin was right, maybe he should call his friend. Maybe he should fly back to London with Robin, leave you and the city behind for a while, clear his head.

“So tell me about this gala.” Robin interrupted his thoughts, hands somehow already full.

With a sigh, Steve took her haul under his own arm. “Some charity is auctioning off her pieces and invited her to be in attendance.”

“That’s very cool. Are you still going?”

He glanced down at the titles in his hands, shrugged. “I don’t have to. I can tell her you want to spend your time here with me. I’m sure she’d understand.”

“And miss all of the aftermath drama? Hell no! You are going, Harrington and you are staying all night. Mainly because I’m going to bring a girl back with me and I need you to not kill the mood with your melancholia.” She gestured to his person and held out another book for him to take.

“These aren’t all going to fit in your suitcase,” he pointed out.

She shot him a look. 

“Why do you get to bring a girl back to my apartment?”

“You had your chance, Harrington, and you ended up on the couch. Time to let the master show you how it’s done.”

He watched as she strolled through the aisles toward an attractive young woman with a curled bob and overalls. Robin commented on the stack of books in her hand, and the girl chuckled. Moments later, Robin was slipping her phone from her pocket and into the girl’s hand.

Steve shook his head, mouth agape, as she offered him a little wink and gestured for him to hurry and follow her to the register. 

—

You: Headed home. Thanks for everything.

—

Steve winced as Robin pushed her little wooden stick into his cuticle. He wasn’t sure how she’d talked him into it, probably guilt tripped him, but they sat cross-legged across his coffee table with beer and chips and the sting of acetone and nail polish. 

“Okay, hypothetical scenario for you,” Robin continued her assault on his nail beds, tonguing the corner of her mouth for concentration on his pinky. “Let’s say you call Eddie right now, tell him you’re in love with her, and he realizes he doesn’t want her as bad as you do. So he moves on. He hooks up with Lizzie or finds another girl in the UK who is far more metal or far more Lord of the Rings elf, right up his alley.”

“Where are you going with this?” Steve groaned.

“Let me finish,” she poked at the back of his hand for emphasis before dripping a tincture of oil onto his fingertips. “So he falls madly in love, right? And they deserve each other. And your girl is sad because Eddie broke her heart. What do you do?”

Steve shook his head, not willing to play games that’ll get his hopes up.

“You’d comfort her. Because you don’t like the people you love to be in pain.”

“Like Eddie if I told him I was in love with his girl.”

As if on cue, Steve’s phone buzzed on the table between them. Munson’s picture lit up the screen, and before Steve had a chance to snatch it off the table, Robin answered.

“Speak of the Devil,” she said.

“And he shall appear,” Eddie finished. “Hey, Buckley, how’s my favorite world traveler?”

“Jet lagged,” she managed a weak smile, circles dark under her eyes. Steve tried to force her into a nap, but she was insistent in staying up. 

“I bet,” Munson laughed. “You are with Harrington, right? Or have you finally stolen his identity?”

“I’m here,” Steve sighed, paint fumes making him dizzy. 

“Oh good. Where’s Sug?”

“On her way home from the gallery,” Steve glanced at the clock, making a mental note to check in on you. You should be home by now.

“I’m not going to ask why you aren’t with her, but I guess this is a good opportunity to ask how our plot is working. She in love with me yet?”

Robin made eyes at him like he ought to tell the truth, those “if you don’t tell him, I will” eyes.

He made a face back.

She opened her mouth to start talking.

“What’s up, Munson? Isn’t it late there?”

“Coward.” Robin mouthed.

He rolled his eyes, resisted running his fingers through his hair. 

“Yeah, did you guys get my packages?”

“What deliveries?”

“Becky didn’t call you down?”

Steve blinked back at Robin’s teasing expression for a moment longer before Eddie’s sentence made sense. “Oh, we haven’t been back to the loft since you left.”

“Why the hell not? There’s full security, a door man, a reception desk, and we installed that huge lock. Not to mention, there’s enough beds for all of you. Robin, tell him to let go of his pride and let you sleep in a King sized bed.”

“What he said,” Robin nodded fervently.

Steve rolled hie eyes. “What packages?”

“I bought Sugar a dress for the gala. Robin, I’m actually glad I’ve got you. I’m looking at earrings right now. Do rubies say ‘I love you but I’m not desperate’?”

Steve stomach churned.

Robin’s eyes went wide, and then her face went through a myriad of emotions before settling on, “Sure. Yes, definitely go with rubies.”

“Shit, are her ears even pierced?”

“Yes.” He hated that he knew that, hated that he watched you loop a silver hoop just before the gallery opening, hated that he wanted to press his nose to the spot where your pulse met your jaw.

Robin snorted, all accusation and face hidden in her bright blue nail polish.

“Great. I’m having Angelo make - a tux. You haven’t - beefier since our last -?”

Call waiting beeped over his voice. Steve glanced down to see Hopper’s name, no photo attached. 

“Eds, I’m going to have to call you back. Hopper’s on the other line.”

Before his friend had a chance to ask questions, he switched lines. 

“Hello?”

“Steve, Jim Hopper here. Listen, I’ve got your girl at the station. She’s fine, just a little shaken up. She asked me not to call you, but I’m not letting her leave here without you.”

—

Hopper’s precinct hadn’t been updated since the 80s. Bricks painted yellow cast sallow shadows on the faces of everyone who shuffled papers around a small office. Florence greeted them with a friendly smile and the smell of stale coffee.

The thundering of Steve’s heartbeat hadn’t quieted since Hopper’s phone call. Robin was up and pulling his jacket off the rack before he even had a second to ask Hop for context, and the two of them split from his apartment and rushed down rainy sidewalks to get there.

Flo buzzed them in, past a glass divider and into a small room with desks stacked with bobble heads and baseballs. Just beyond was an office with a plaque reading Jim Hopper, and a gruff voice asked, “what?” when her knuckled wrapped on the hard wood.

The door opened to reveal a hulking frame behind the desk, broad shoulders and a bushy mustache. A coffee cup steamed in his hand. 

Across from him, you sat in a little aluminum chair, your own hands wrapped around a ceramic mug, shoulders slumped. You turned to see who had entered, eyes glassy. “Steve?”

“Sorry, kid, didn’t want to let you loose on your own.” Hopper confessed.

Prodded by Robin, Steve took a few tiny steps into the office and knelt beside you.

Your hands trembled around the mug. A tear escaped the corner of your eye and began to streak the side of your face.

He caught it with his knuckles, brushing it into the hair on your temple. “Are you alright?”

You wiped frantically at your other cheek and nose, straightening your shoulders up and away from his touch. You set the cup onto Hopper’s desk. “I’m fine.”

Steve teetered back on the balls of his feet and pulled himself to stand. “Want to tell me what happened?”

You avoided his gaze, instead nodding to the Chief to tell your story.

“In her building, some guy said hi to her, and when she got to her door, more roses and this,” Hopper slid a card across the desk for Steve to read.

Your name was scrawled in red marker and on the inside, more images of you and Eddie, these taken during your gallery opening. 

Eddie’s sunglasses were pulled down his long nose, tongue to his canines in a sly grin, hand tucked gripping your waist. You were swatting at him, just as giddy. Only the same red slash mark through your throat had pierced the paper. This time, the artist only got more graphic in his illustrations on the following couple of photos. Enough to churn Steve’s stomach.

“What the fuck?” Robin hissed.

Steve shot her a look over your head.

The poem went as follows:

Roses are red

I thought you’d been warned

I must make you understand

That you will be harmed

“What did this guy look like? Have you seen him before?” Steve tossed the card back to Hopper.

You shrugged, rubbed at the exhaustion in your eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe? He had these blue eyes. They looked so familiar, but I can’t place him.”

“We’re thinking Hargrove’s got an accomplice, maybe a brother or cousin. Seems like his dad’s a total dick, so it’s not out of the realm of possibilities. We’re looking into it. Think he doubled-down when we took him in.” Hopper explained.

Steve nodded. “We’re going to Munson’s. There’s triple the security there, high quality CCTV. She’ll be safe there.”

You looked up at him then, something terse hardened your jaw and your gaze. When Steve frowned, you looked away again. 

“Good, you all try to get some rest. I’m going to send some guys to have eyes on you, too. Call me if anything changes.”

Steve nodded again. “You too.”

You stood before anyone could prompt you and thanked Hopper. You rounded the chair the opposite side of Steve to charge out of the room, but halted abruptly when you found your way was blocked by a leggy blonde in Steve’s denim jacket.

“Oh, hi,” Robin gulped, glanced up at Steve and back to you. ��I’m Robin.”

You introduced yourself, voice softer than he had ever heard, a shell of yourself. You glanced back over your shoulder at Steve, looking so small and so lost.

—

Your skin was supple and smooth beneath his palms, throat extended to he could kiss the dip where your jaw met your earlobe. A mewl escaped plump, bitten lips. Steve growled into your clavicle and pressed you tighter into the pane of glass.

“Eddie,” you breathed. 

Steve blinked and pulled back from you, that familiar pang of jealousy tight under his sternum. 

He trailed your arm to your hand tangled in a mess of curls. Eddie knelt between your thighs, curling your toes.

Steve’s heart raced in his chest, and then you were grabbing him, pulling him back to you.

“Steve,” you gasped in his ear, clutching at his shoulders, raking fingernails along the muscles of his back.

He groaned and buried his face in your chest once more.

Then gravity gave out.

A crash of glass cracked and splintered the pane behind you and the three of you were falling, spiraling downward, endlessly, terminal velocity to a ground that never came. Steve couldn’t fly to you fast enough, watching you float further and further away, fingertips grasping for his own. Eddie clung to his knee, screaming for him to get you, to save you, that he needs you. Help him, Steve, help him. 

You hit the ground first.

—

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” You whispered, clutching a glass of water in both hands. You stood at the window, city lights painting you in deep reds and yellows.

Steve’s heart raced, nightmare having startled him upright on the sofa. He was drenched in sweat, t-shirt clinging and faux fur blanket wrapped around his waist. He gulped and gestured for you to come sit, anything to get you away from the glass. “Everything okay?”

You shrugged and glanced out at the world once more before taking cautious steps toward him. You perched on the very edge of a plum velour chair, the back rising up and over your head like a throne, blanketing you in shadow.

“You want to talk about it?” His voice was hoarse. He wondered if he’d been yelling. He hope he hadn’t woken you.

“I don’t want to wake Robin.” You whispered.

He rubbed at the sleep in his eyes and glanced upward to the loft stairs. “Nothing can wake Robin. Plus, she’s jet lagged. What’s going on?”

You hesitated for several long moments before you spoke again, voice still soft, but above a whisper. “I looked through every single one of my Instagram followers and Billy’s and none of them were that guy. I just feel like I know him from somewhere. I thought maybe he was at the gallery opening, so I went through the guest list and my client list. He’s not in there. Maybe it’s just a guy who lives in my building, and that’s how I recognize him. I don’t know, Steve, I just feel like I’m going crazy here.”

“You’re not.”

“And I know it’s safer here, but sleeping in that big bed all by myself just pisses me off. I kept catching the reflection of my phone in those stupid mirrors, and I just feel like I’m being reminded of what a fucking idiot I am.”

“You’re not,” Steve repeated.

“No, I think I am. I don’t know what I was thinking, maybe that because I’m such a nobody, I’m impervious to all of the other shit that comes with sleeping with a rockstar. I just thought it couldn’t touch me. Paparazzi, fans, whatever. I’m just a girl with a camera like they are. I’m just being young and having fun. Nothing and no one can hurt me. Fucking stupid.”

“It’s not,” Steve shook his head.

“And I thought telling myself it was casual every single day would keep me at arm’s length, but that’s not how emotions work. I can’t just stop how I feel or who I’m in love with or -” You went silent in your chair. 

Steve felt the pang in his chest again, like a cloven hoof crashing through bone and muddling his organs. He glanced at the pane of glass, vaguely wondered how easy it’d be to crash through.

“I just,” you took a deep breath. Your exhaled was so shaky, he thought you might be crying, but he couldn’t see beyond the veil of shadow. “I just want to catch this guy so I can decide how to keep living my life.” 

“We will.”

—

Eddie: Send me a photo of you in that tux. I need spank bank material.

—

Steve felt ridiculous with the luggage cart of packages he wheeled out of the elevator to Munson’s front door. Everything had been opened in front of Becky’s curious gaze, tissue paper torn to ensure no weapons or bombs had replaced the thousands of dollars worth of merchandise Eddie had purchased the day before.

He’d almost walked away without the coffee when Becky called his name to remind him. He thanked her, grabbing the drink carrier, and before he could walk away, she extended a hand with a lime sticky note pressed to her index finger.

“In case you need anything else,” she shrugged.

Front Desk Becky was scrawled across the note above a ten digit phone number.

Steve felt his face flush, but smiled and slipped it into his pocket. He nodded. “Thanks, Becky. I’ll see you around.” 

Seemingly satisfied with his response, she nodded and buzzed to unlock the elevator.

He keyed in the six digit code to Eddie’s place and the door slipped open with ease. He thought about shouting for Robin to help him, but seeing your bedroom door closed, he figured it’d be best not to wake you. He decided instead to slip inside unheard.

Dumping keys on the side table and toeing out of his shoes, he made for the kitchen before lurching to a halt at the end of the hallway upon hearing Robin’s voice.

“I don’t mean to pry, but I have to know the answer to this before Steve gets back and tells us to shut up.”

Steve’s heart began to thud in his chest. He had half a mind to tell her to shut up right now.

“Shoot,” you chuckled, a low sound that sent his stomach doing cartwheels.

“Is Eddie like… a freak in bed? Is that why you stick around? Because I knew him in his Lord of the Rings phase and honestly, you are way out of his league. So it must be the kinky shit keeping you here, right?” 

Steve’s head hit the wall at his best friend’s tact.

“Honestly?” You laughed. “He’s the total opposite of his… persona, I guess you could call it. He’s so sweet and tender. He’ll never try anything new without talking about it first. He makes you feel so… seen, I guess? Like you’re the only woman in the entire world and he just wants to make you feel desired.”

Steve closed his eyes and tried not to remember all of the moments he’d walked in on, all of the stolen kisses and whispered promises.

“Well you’re a very lucky girl. The way he talks about you, I think he really does love you.” Robin’s voice lingered, like maybe she was asking it instead of stating it, gauging a reaction.

Steve didn’t know how much more he could hear.

“Okay, my turn to ask you,” your tone shifted, conversation alleviated of its tension. “You’ve known Steve forever, right? So you must have gained some insight from the women in his life.”

The bodyguard’s face warmed.

“Oh boy, where do I start?”

“No, it’s fine, Robin, I got it.” Steve said a little too loudly, rounding the corner into the living quarters. The large windows poured in the light of a foggy morning. He made eye contact with Robin, and he could tell from her expression she knew he’d heard everything.

“Do you need help?” She asked, uncrossing her legs on the sofa.

He shook his head and smiled, “I got it. Here’s your coffee.”

She took his drink with mumbled gratitude.

Then he pulled yours from the carrier to slip between your soft fingers. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Fine. You?” You hadn’t. 

“Good, yeah,” he nodded. He hadn’t either after his nightmare. He sat up scouring the internet for any and all suspects. He knew you were, too, yards away in that big bed all by yourself.

“Can we start digging into those presents from Eddie?” Robin cut the tension. “It feels like Christmas, and he promised he’d buy me something too. I wanna know what I got.”

Steve gestured for the entry hall and sipped his own coffee, too hot and too bitter for such a grey morning.

You feigned a laugh, allowing Robin to pull you up by the wrist.

—

1 Voicemail

Steve. It’s Hopper. No leads yet. Munson’s driver has been vetted, and the building security staff. We’ll have patrol cars out front as well as guys posted near the exits. I’d been packing if you got it. I don’t think Brenner’s affiliated, but we’re taking all necessary precautions. Joyce wants pictures. Stay safe.

—

A valet opened the door and Steve hopped out of the large SUV before you, extending a hand to help you down and onto the pavement of the function hall. You teetered a little on your heels as you began to ascend the stone steps, but Steve ensured the crook of his elbow was there to stabilize you.

Cameras flashed, and you clung to him like a life raft, a panicked look etched across your features. 

“Relax. I’ve got you,” he muttered into your hair when you reached the massive front doors.

Coming to a coat room, your worn leather jacket was slipped from your bare shoulders, and your white invitation was exchanged for a numbered stub that Steve slipped from your fingers to stash in the inside pocket of his tuxedo.

You didn’t wait for him to proceed into the massive event space, marble pillars standing hundreds of feet tall on either side of you.

Say what you will about Eddie Munson, but the man had style.

Your dress was the perfect shade of burgundy to match the rubies dangling from your earlobes. It billowed with each step, yet maintaining enough structure to hug and accentuate every beautiful curve. The silk garment left your shoulders bare, the expanse of your beautiful skin exposed and gathering goosebumps as you entered the vast space.

Steve suffered the same goosebumps when you’d both stepped out from your designated dressing spaces, you in your dress and heels, he in his all-black ensemble. The two of you just took a breath to stop and stare, a moment suspended in time. 

For half a second, he was tempted to sweep you off your feet, to crash his lips into yours and never let you go. He took two strides closer. You did the same, fingers tangling with nerves or excitement or anticipation, that familiar glint of mischief in your eye. 

“Alright, I’ll say it,” Robin sliced into the moment. “I’d fuck both of you. Right now, if you’d like?”

You laughed, head thrown back, dark lipstick accentuating your sparkling white teeth. He’d pay to feel them sink into him. 

Now, he remained two strides behind, giving you space to relax, to take in your surroundings, to lead the charge. 

Your name was called from nearby, and he watched every muscle in you tighten and release when you looked over to find Martin Brenner, host of the gala, with his hand outstretched to you. 

You accepted and allowed a kiss to the height of your cheekbone.

Brenner introduced you to a handful of guests surrounding them. Steve tried to memory-bank their names and faces. All of them older, none of them had blue eyes. 

“This is my date, Steve Harrington,” you extended your hand now, and your bodyguard fell into place beside you, shaking hands and offering curt nods.

“You work in the music industry, do I have that right?” Brenner sized him up, squared shoulders and pursed lips.

Steve spared a glance your direction, felt himself tighten at the fear in your gaze.

Brenner shrugged, let a smug smile slip onto his features. “Background checks. We want to ensure our get-togethers are safe. I’m sure you understand. You’re in security, right?”

Steve nodded, tight-lipped. “I appreciate your diligence.”

Brenner’s smile widened at this. “Good man. Your job must feel grueling, all of those late nights, traveling the world. Have you ever considered settling down? Maybe taking a stationery position somewhere? I’m always looking to expand my security team.” He nodded to indicate men with earpieces scattered throughout the floor.

Your fingers gripped Steve’s bicep tighter. He smiled and shrugged. “I tend to thrive in chaotic circumstances.”

Brenner seemed to appreciate his response, but glanced over his shoulder with a nod. “Well, it was fantastic seeing you both again. Hopefully I’ll catch up later. More guests to greet. Please, help yourself to some drinks.” And he was off.

—

Several champagne flutes had found their way into your hands and then abandoned on tables, still full, while you met and greeted dozens of Chicago’s elite. Steve recognized a few faces, elbows he’d knocked before, and tried to impress you, when he could, with introductions. He couldn’t help but delight in the way your timid smile grew with each compliment.

“You’re doing great,” he managed to whisper between senators and lobbyists.

That smile had his stomach doing somersaults. 

“When I saw your piece, I cried,” another woman said, clutching your arm with diamond encrusted fingers. “I’m serious. I thought, ‘that’s it. That’s my city.’ Your work is amazing. Isn’t her work amazing?”

Steve nodded and smiled. “Her eye is incredible. I feel the same way every time I look at it.”

“It’s not enough that her work has to be beautiful though, I mean, will you look at her?” The woman’s secretary pitched in.

“Isn’t she breathtaking?” He agreed. The soft candlelight wrapped you in warmth, reflecting off smooth skin and the sheen of your dress. If only they knew what you looked like in a t-shirt, hair tossed to the top of your head, sipping a lavender latte.

“You’re a very lucky man.” 

“I am,” he nodded.

“Ladies, will you excuse us? I think I need a little air.” You tugged at his forearm, and the woman chirped and cooed goodbyes.

When you finally stepped into the hallway, breeze brisk from outside, you rounded on him.

“Why did you make me sign that NDA?”

Steve blinked, whiplashed at your change in demeanor. After the first exchange, he noticed your shoulders relax, that light come back into your eyes. Now, you were all harsh angles and spat words. “What?” He shook his head.

“I gave you the SD card and told you to come find me, as in, come talk to me, as in, I’m interested in you, Harrington. I thought I made it pretty fucking clear. And then I met Eddie and started talking to him, and he told me I had to talk to his security guard to sign the NDA, and I don’t know I guess a part of me really hoped you would talk me out of it and convince me to go home with you instead, but you didn’t.”

Steve glanced around the hall at on-lookers before gripping your hips and pushing you back into a more secluded corner. 

“Don’t touch me,” you huffed.

He released you immediately, hands threading through his hair while his brain tried to catch up with everything you’d said.

“And now I’m getting death threats and am terrified for my life, and Eddie Munson is in love with me, and I can’t even reciprocate even though he’s the most genuine, sweetest man I know because part of me is still holding out hope that you feel the same way about me as I do about you.” You hissed, glancing over his shoulder to ensure no one could eavesdrop on this onslaught of confessions.

Steve felt his jaw go slack, but only in the way he can feel his hands go numb if he’s been laying at a weird angle on an airplane. Everything buzzed and his ears popped and his heart thundered in his ears.

“So why did you make me sign the NDA?”

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond, couldn’t find words past. “I don’t know.”

You were trembling, breath shallow as you slipped one hand into his, the other tucked up under his lapel. “Do you feel..” You glanced up at him through long, thick eyelashes.

He swallowed, nodded, allowed his hand to caress the small of your waist. Your smooth dress caught on calloused fingers.

“So kiss me,” you tilted your head, breath warm on his face.

He traced circles into your hand with his thumb.

“Steve,” you breathed. “Kiss me.”

Your name cut through the air too loud, too disruptive, ripping through you.

“The woman of the hour, have you seen her? I heard she came out this way. I simply must compliment her on her work.”

Steve’s blood ran cold at the sound,  and he turned on his heel to find a man in an all-white tuxedo, a menacing grin splitting his features. 

“Oh, Harrington, right? Good to see you.” Jason Carver extended his hand. 

---

[A/N: Dun dun dunnnnn. I think I might be in love with him. Steve. Just for clarificaiton. xoxo]

[bethtalksart]

'An Axis of Abstraction' Art in Cornwall and Yorkshire- Then and Now.

Over easter, I went to visit an exhibition that I had heard about at Leeds Art Gallery. Being from Leeds, the art gallery holds a lot of memories for me. I have been more times than I can remember, from when I couldn't even walk up until today. I have always been impressed with the exhibitions at Leeds Art Gallery and was excited to see the range of artworks that would be on offer.

The exhibit displayed a range of contemporary artwork of various mediums, from around the First World War up until last year. There were paintings, drawings, prints, sketches, sculptures, and pottery. The exhibition was held in the extremely bright and airy south rooms of the gallery; the neutral floors and walls bathed in bright light from the skylight and added to the contemporary and fresh feel of the artworks. The connection between Cornwall and Yorkshire was emphasised in many interesting ways throughout the exhibition. Landscapes from both counties were plentiful, there was lots to read about artists from both places and artists that had moved to both places, and there was lots of interesting connections drawn between the arts colleges and universities in both counties.

Given that I had made my pilgrimage to the gallery on a late morning of a Wednesday, the exhibition was relatively deserted. Something about being completely alone in this vast hall added to the experience of the exhibition. I could almost feel the solitude of the artists, many of whom experienced isolation in their remote studios in the Yorkshire and Cornish countrysides, their immigration to England from another country, or their contemporary methods in creating artwork being widely misunderstood. This engineered emotion of solitude was further highlighted to me through the artworks themselves, as well as the environment and their context. Many of the pieces in the exhibition used large, simple forms, which added to this feeling of vastness.

The sculpture Spatial Construction in Steel by Marlow Moss immediately caught my eye as soon as I stepped into the gallery hall. Although it was at the opposite end to the entrance, it striking black and geometric forms and lines stood out amongst the white and light brown colours of the room. I felt that this sculpture was a perfect embodiment of the spirits of abstract Cornish art. Its motivations and meanings were up for personal interpretation by the visitors- a common motif in contemporary art. Its use of fabricated steel rods reminded me of the contemporary influence of the Bauhaus art school in using industrial, regimented medium. Although the abstract nature of this sculpture differs from this as it serves no apparent function other than conveying the creative ideas of the artist.

Another piece in the exhibit that immediately caught my eye was Exclusion Zones I by Veronica Ryan. The sculpture was incredibly brazen in its use of medium; it consisted of "Metal shelf, wood, plaster, Kaffir D, sculpey, cocoa pods, pillow, plastic net, string, crocheted cotton, cast, and fabricated light bulb wrapped in elastic." This use of material stuck me as bold and contemporary, in fact, its position right at the entrance even brought its status into question. When I first saw it, I wondered if it was part of the exhibition, or a gallery-owned shelf storing cushions to aid accessibility for visitors. Although, as I got closer and saw the other elements of the piece I realised that it was definitely a part of the exhibition. As I read more about the piece, I came to realise that this was that it was a part of the artist's Turner Prize winning collection in 2021, drawing inspiration from the fishing practices of Cornwall. The dilemma that I had just had considering whether or not this shelf was part of the exhibit or not led me to consider the implications of contemporary art once again. The personal reasoning behind every step that the artist took in creating the sculpture wasn't entirely clear to me and the final outcome was something that perhaps some people would not consider a fine work of art. However, it was clear to me that every item and aspect of the sculpture was meaningful and intentional and I was reminded of the key basis of contemporary art, which dictates that the meaning and message of the journey that the artist took to make the piece are just as, if not more, important than the final outcome itself.

Barnes-Graham, Three Rocks, 1952.

I found the exhibition and the gallery in general to be interesting, captivating, and worthwhile. After I had taken my time meandering the artworks across the south gallery, I wondered into the famous Tiled Hall Café. The Victorian hall has a beautiful high tiled ceiling and impressive wooden floors which is now home to Leeds Art Gallery's café. I wondered through it on my way out and was taken back to countless hot chocolates I had sipped there as a child. While I had had the confidence to peruse the gallery alone, I didn't quite have the character to sit alone in the café, so I quickly walked through and bought a small cake to go, making my way home afterwards.

The ceiling from the Tiled Hall, taken from the Leeds Art Gallery website.

[chou-de-chambers]

My Valorant Agent Headcanons: IKEA (Part 1)

Oh no, you're lost in IKEA and got separated from your companion! In which section will you find them?

content tags: sfw, wholesome, humor, no proof-reading, one-sitting, up to reader interpretation (platonic/romantic)

A/N: Hi new and existing mutuals! Sorry for my lack of posts. University has been a challenge lately. I know I fell behind the "weekly Kinktober" pieces but I'm currently polishing the next one now! It should be out this weekend. For those who submitted requests, thank you and I assure you I'm slowly working on them! For now, please have this HC that popped in my mind before sleeping last night.

After searching everywhere, you see Brimstone facing one of the computer stands with his face almost sticking to the monitor and his finger simply hovering over it. You knew he wasn't versed with modern technology, so you quickly came over and asked him what he was trying to do. He told you that he recently got complaints about HQ being "too dull", so he requested assistance in checking the catalog for colorful decors to put up in the lounge and hallways.

Viper would be looking at the assortment of utility carts displayed, deciding which style would fit her laboratory best, and measuring by eye how much of her reagents will fit per shelf. She's been having trouble moving around the lab, so she thought it would be handy to have a small cart she could push and pull to each station. You pointed at one of the carts. "I usually won't pick that because it might stand out too much, but since you chose it, so be it. Thank you, little mouse," she casually said with a nod.

Omen wouldn't dare to get lost. He'd always stick close to you in fear of what people might think of him. You kept your arm clung to him while you continuously soothed the back of his hand with your thumb. He'd casually tug you a few times though to check some throw blankets and couch pillows in the Holiday section.

You'd see Cypher roaming around the Smart Home section, fascinated by how these small household products could do so much beyond surveillance, like his cameras. He even discovered one tiny device that could control several other devices and house functions, which he thought would be useful for him. You decided to surprise him by commanding the Smart Assistant to play his favorite tune. "Ah, you found me, habibi!" he said in a cheerful tone while slightly grooving to the music. This made you giggle.

You will notice Sova's tall figure standing out from the shelves of portable containers. Before you can even get to him, he'd immediately see you and walk towards you, "I found wide insulated flasks over there. Can those keep soup warm for a long time?" You nodded enthusiastically. He sighed in relief, "Spasiba. No more roaring stomachs during missions. Let's buy one for everyone."

Sage will not get lost simply because the chances of you getting lost are higher. She's a very patient person, so there's no means for her to hurry into another section when you're clearly not done with the current one. She also handles the money (if you're both shopping for VP) and has her ears open to any suggestion you have to make HQ feel more like home.

Good luck finding Phoenix in IKEA. He'd be all over the place, checking out each cool stuff he sees. Jett won't come to the furniture store with both of you but expect her to be on a video call with the fire Radiant, laughing at every shenanigan he's pulling out. That was until you phoned him and found him through his ringtone, echoing by the glassware section. "Phoenix, I'm not gonna pay for any damages you make," you huffed in distress. "Relax fam, I'm careful," he assured with a chuckle, "By the way, I found the infamous stuffed bear earlier. Want it?"

[minisugakoobies]

Be Mine | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Genre: fluff, established relationship, Coworkers!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: kissing, Jungkook is literally attacked by fluff, it's more sugary than a box of Sweethearts candies

Word Count: 499

Disclaimers: Obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Won't you be his Valentine?

Prompts: Fluff 35 “kiss me better” & 37 “you wrote me a song?”

A/N: Dear anon who asked for some fluffy Jungkook, I hope this is soft enough for you! 😁 For some reason, the song prompt sent me down this avenue. Thank you for sending in a request! 💜

Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Milestone Celebration Masterlist

“____! There you are!” Jungkook races down the aisle towards you.

“Yeah, Kookie, I’ve been here for the last hour, putting up these shelves.” You gesture from your ladder at the stuffed hearts display that you’re arranging. “What’s up?”

He brandishes a bright pink toy guitar from behind his back. “Got something for you.” He strums theatrically. “I wrote you a song.”

“You wrote me a song?” You blink. “That’s so sweet, but aren’t you supposed to be helping Namjoon with inventory?”

“Boss man got distracted by a customer.” A small child rides by on a bicycle and seconds later a disheveled Namjoon follows, yelling “Not in the store! Not in the store!”

Never a dull moment working in a toy shop. Especially when you work with your adorable boyfriend, who at the moment is playing out his rock star dreams on a tiny wooden guitar.

“Wanna hear it?”

Placing another heart pillow on the shelf over Jungkook’s head, you smile. “Of course!”

He clears his throat, then begins to sing a familiar tune in his lovely tenor, strumming madly the entire time:

Oh _____, sweet and fine,

Won’t you be my Valentine?

You’re so cute, you caught my eye

Like a diamond in the sky,

Oh _____, sweet and fine,

Won’t you be my Valentine?

Jungkook slides on his knees, windmilling with the tiny guitar. Finished, he beams as you applaud, biting your cheek to keep from giggling.

“That was beautiful, Kookie! But… wasn’t that ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’?”

Jungkook stands and leans against the shelf you’ve just finished securing. “Uh, no, I don’t think so.”

“Yes, it was - you didn’t even change the ‘diamond’ line!”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You roll your eyes as he folds his arms on the shelf, resting his head as he peers up at you. “But you didn’t answer my question. Will you be my Valentine?”

“Do you even need to - oh!!”

The top shelf suddenly gives and tilts downward, setting off a cascade of collapsing shelves. All of the stuffed hearts you’ve been stocking come tumbling down in a deluge of pink and red fluff, right on top of Jungkook, who drops dramatically to the ground.

You quickly descend from the ladder and crouch beside the pile of plush, digging Jungkook out. He’s lying on his back, eyes closed.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes pop open. “No. I’m wounded,” he whines, bottom lip puffing as he gazes pitifully at you. “Kiss me better?”

This time you don’t bother to stifle your laughter. “Seriously? That was the softest avalanche ever! What could possibly hurt?”

“My heart. You didn’t answer my question yet,” he replies, propping himself up on one elbow. He grins as you shake your head in exasperation.

“Of course I’ll be your Valentine. You’re ridiculous, y’know that?” you inform him affectionately.

“Yeah, but that’s why you like me, right?”

Glancing around, you see no signs of your boss, so you lean over. “Absolutely,” you whisper, kissing your boyfriend better.

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.