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curiositydooropened · 3 months

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Hell Hound • Part One

Being FWBs with metal rockstar, Eddie Munson, is all fun and games until a dozen red roses show up at your door with a warning: Stay Away from The Devil or you will die. Despite your protests, Eddie appoints his personal bodyguard to keep an eye out for you.

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

Wordcount: 10, 712

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, 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

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Moodboard • Fic Masterlist • Part Two

The interior of the L never looked that beautiful, at least not through Steve’s eyes. Every experience he’d had was tainted by Bears fans or teenagers filming videos on their phone, or God, don’t remind him about St. Patty’s Day. No, the seats were too small for his shoulders, the windows too short, and the whole thing smelled like plastic bags.

Your perspective was vastly different. You were just the right height to catch the sunlight as it filled the train car with that golden glow. The city whirred by, a kaleidoscope of bright lights and reflections off the glass. You positioned poles and handholds just so with satisfying symmetry.

No, the city had never looked as beautiful to him as it had through your lens.

Steve said that to Robin once, and she wretched over the line and made him promise he’d never repeat it to you. He hadn’t, but he’d also never let one of your photos go un-complimented.

He enjoyed the roll of your eyes, the sink of your teeth into your bottom lip as you soaked in the praise and pretended to be shy, to be embarrassed, that you hated your craft.

He’d seen that look dozens of times tonight, timid gratitude that poured out of you and onto every surface in this little gallery space. You’d caught his gaze a handful of times, reassured him with a smile that you were okay, great even, oozing with sheepish pride. He’d just nod and go back to admiring another of your photos.

“You know, we used to live in that apartment…” An elderly woman told you, bony hand clung to your forearm.

“Really? Which one?” You humored her.

“That one, just there, our first year of marriage,” the woman nodded. “Fifth floor.”

“Fourth floor!” Her husband corrected from your other side.

“It was the fifth floor, now don’t argue with me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man winked at you, and your eyes lit with mischievous delight. You nodded along, conspiratorially while the woman rambled on about the neighbors’ cat meowing and another neighbor practicing saxophone into the wee hours.

“It was so romantic,” she clutched your hand to her chest.

“It was so annoying,” the husband grinned back at you.

Fed up with her husband’s antics, the woman shot him a rueful look. Then, she patted your hand and told you how lovely your work was before asking for the powder room.

When she’d been properly directed, her husband leaned to your ear and asked how much for the photo.

Steve lingered nearby, waiting for the transactional handshake before he stepped in. “Mind if I inquire about this piece?”

You sucked your cheeks between your teeth and sidled up beside him. His bicep tingled where your skin brushed. “What questions do you have about this one?”

“Where was it taken?”

You shot him a look, and he tried not to let the smile split his face. The photo you were currently staring at was a portrait of a mom and daughter looking at their reflection in The Bean.

“How’s it going?” He elbowed you, glancing once more around the room at the patrons to your first gallery showing. He’d agreed to come run point for your opening, soft-pitching the idea for Munson to hit out of the park.

“Amazing,” you sighed, the delight on your face swooping at his stomach.

“Told you.” He grinned, and you swatted his arm and told him to shut up. He really could watch you for hours, the micro-expressions on your face prettier than any photo you could take, though your talent came up a close second.

“I thought he couldn’t make it,” you gasped, staring just past Steve’s shoulder and out the gallery’s front window.

Steve blinked once, twice. The rapid flash of headlights cast your cheekbones in shadow. He spun on his heel to find his employer and friend, Eddie Munson, slipping out of the backseat of a tinted-windowed SUV. He cursed under his breath and excused himself, shouldering through a confused crowd to meet the rockstar at the door.

“Harrington,” Eddie pushed his sunglasses through his curls, pupils blown, and flashed a wolfish grin.

“Thought you couldn’t make it.” Steve responded, glancing down alleyways for any paparazzi. He knew once Eddie was spotted in public, they’d come in droves.

“And miss this? Nah, wouldn’t dream of it, Sugar.”

You’d followed Steve out into the rain, slipping through party guests to greet Eddie. The rockstar wrapped studded-leather arms around your slender waist and greeted you with something salacious whispered into your ear. Steve knew because of the shocked look stretched over beautiful features, and the way you’d swatted at Eddie’s shoulder as if he’d said something bad enough to curl your toes.

“We should get inside,” Steve grit his teeth. “Don’t want to alert the paps.”

“Come on, Sugar,” Eddie dipped into a low bow to let you enter first. “Give me the grand tour.”

—

“I think I’ll buy all the ones left,” Munson quipped with a lazy arm tugging you back into his chest.

You snorted, and shook your head. “Then no one else will be able to buy them, which is kind of the point of a gallery.” You gestured around at the carefully placed frames on carefully designed walls.

“Well, good. Maybe I want you all to myself.”

Steve’s eyes ached to roll. He collected plastic flutes and discarded trays of half-eaten vegetables and tossed them into large, black garbage sacks.

“Are you coming over tonight?”

“I just had my gallery opening,” you barked a laugh, pulling away to help Steve with the table you were leaning on. “I need to sleep.”

“You need to celebrate,” Eddie rationed, tugging you back into him. You yelped, your thumb going into a rogue slice of cake. With waggled brows, Eddie pulled your thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.

Steve thought he might be sick. He turned his back and held open the bag in front of him, just in case. Unfortunately, he could still make out your reflection in the windows out front. Your meticulously picked-out slacks hugged your curves, and Munson’s ringed fingers slipped over the breadth of your backside to squeeze you closer to him.

“Anything else you need help with?” Steve’s voice tasted awkward, a little too loud, too scratchy.

You separated from Eddie and dumped your haul into Steve’s bag. “I think that’s it. Thank you for everything, Steve. Really. And I’m serious about paying you.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” He said, twisting the bag closed with a knot.

You shot him another look and said, “Eddie, tell Steve to let me pay him.”

“You don’t take money from her, you don’t take money from me, pal.”

Steve did roll his eyes this time, and glared over your shoulder at the rockstar zipping and unzipping his leather jacket. “Yeah, we have a contract, dumb ass.”

“I’ll have my lawyer sue your lawyer.”

“Your lawyer is my lawyer.”

Eddie grinned. “He’s got me there, Sug.”

You scoffed and snatched the bag from Steve’s hand. “Fine, I’ll have to come up with some other way to repay you.”

Steve was thankful for mood lighting and the late hour. His face heated another twenty or so degrees, and he scratched at the hairs prickling on the back of his neck. “Eds, you need me to call you a car?”

“Would you mind, Stevie-dearest? Sugar, I gotta take a piss. Care to show me the can in this place?” Eddie stood up and adjusted the crotch of his tight jeans for show.

“You’re a class act, Eddie Munson. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” You gripped the hefty garbage bag in one hand and took Eddie’s hand in your other as you led him back into the office space of the warehouse. Before the heavy door closed, both of you made eyes at Steve, one friendly, the other randy.

Steve’s stomach churned, and he pulled out his phone to call a car.

Working with Eddie had been tedious, but simple. Call him a car, shield him from paparazzi and groping fans alike, bring him his hangover cure breakfast, ask beautiful women to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement before his plethora of one-night stands.

You were the toughest pill to swallow, a beautiful girl at a hometown gig.

Hometown gigs meant rowdy afterparties, venue-catered alcohol and executive-catered drugs. It meant too-lax security checkpoints and easily-bribed security detail, and after months on the road, Steve wasn’t in the mood for anyone’s bullshit. So he posted himself at the Green Room door, one eye on the metal detector, one eye on the front man who’d hired him, and prayed the ache between his shoulders would go away soon. Eight more hours and he’d be at home in bed for a long awaited and much needed vacation.

Eddie was two water bottles in, and his hand still trembled when he introduced himself to some recording mogul.

Steve snapped his fingers at some kid and told him quickly to hand Munson another bottle of water and get him a towel.

When the items had been delivered to a thankful rockstar, Steve turned back to the collection of items being tossed into plastic trays on the outside of the metal detector: a cell phone, keys with a neon carabiner, a leather wallet, a DSLR.

“Whoa, whoa,” he stopped the attendant from picking up the camera. “There’s no press on the guest list.”

“No press, just freelance,” you said from across the metal threshold. You wore a well-loved leather jacket, softened and faded with time and an expression that toed the line between compliance and try me.

Steve swallowed, shook the stars from his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry, this is a camera-free zone.”

You narrowed your eyes for a moment before stepping back over the threshold and against the current of waiting party-goers to fiddle with the camera.

“Here,” you cupped something in an outstretched hand, waiting patiently for Steve to accept whatever gift you had to offer.

With caution, he accepted the tiniest of SD cards, bright blue.

“Call it insurance?” You smiled, tongue behind your canine in a way that made him itch under the collar. “Find me before I leave and give it back?”

Munson had found you first, dragging Steve with clammy hands to meet his “dream girl”. He gave the signal for Steve to start pulling up the contract on his phone as he made his way down a long, concrete hallway.

You hadn’t flinched, just cocked a brow and signed your name on the dotted line with a, “Thanks, Steve. Have a great night.”

He kept your SD card. He didn’t even tell Robin that it rested on the corner of his dresser next to a picture of Dustin on his graduation day.

He assumed he’d never see you again, but Munson had grown a fondness for you, and soon you were a regular part of Chicago meet-ups. Every hometown gig became a room full of you.

Steve heard giggling from the office, that soft melodic bounce of your laugh against the bass of Eddie’s voice. This was the worst of it, catching you two in compromising positions around parties or Eddie’s ornate penthouse, and pretending like it didn’t kill him inside that it wasn’t him with his hands on you, making you laugh, smelling the warmth of your throat.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

Robin: How was the gallery opening? Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet? We on for our FaceTime date tonight?

Steve: Eddie showed up. Yup. See you in 10 hours.

Robin: Shit. I just sent you money. Buy yourself a fifth and we’ll drink it together.

A car rolled up outside, blinding him with strong headlights.

“Munson, car’s here!” He called, praying you could both hear him.

There was the shuffle of a few things in the back, and with the clack of Eddie’s boots, you both returned. You looked a little more windswept than before, and Eddie’s sunglasses has been pulled back over his eyes, despite it being nearly midnight.

“Steve,” you breathed, approaching him with arms outstretched for a friendly embrace. “Thanks again for all of your help tonight. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

He gave the tightest squeeze he could under supervision and let your hand fall into his to give you one more gentle squeeze. “Anytime. It was really no problem. Do you need a ride home?”

You shook your head, smile wedged between your teeth. “I guess Eddie wore me down.”

“Yeah I will.” He snorted, and you shushed him.

Steve nodded and started for the door. “Cool. Well, have fun, you two. Be safe.”

“Thanks, man,” Eddie knocked knuckles with his friend, rings sharp against Steve’s scarred fists. “I’ll call tomorrow.”

Steve swallowed and glanced over his shoulder to bid you one last, weak smile.

You waggled you fingers, and he stepped out into the cool night air.

—

“You are the most embarrassing person I know in real life.” Even Robin in lag was brutal.

Steve sipped his coffee and rubbed at tired eyes. He hadn’t slept much. Mostly, he scrolled and wondered exactly what you and Eddie were getting up to, wondered why it wasn’t him.

“You asked if she needed a ride home?”

“I was being polite,” he grumbled. He took a banana off its tree and began to peel. They had all begun to brown.

“You’re so sweet, Stevie. Like a little lost puppy dog.”

“Oh fuck off, Robin. Remember you and that girl in Buchapest?”

“Bucharest,” she corrected his pronunciation. “And she was merely a fleeting crush.”

“You cried over her for like three weeks.” He shot his best friend a look over the screen.

The lighting was horrible in her Istanbul flat, internet connection worse. Steve told her he’d pay for anything better, but she argued that he needed to quit babying her and let her live the nomadic experienced she’d always dreamed of.

“Okay, okay,” her connection stuttered in and out, face pixelated as she ducked out of frame and back. “So you’re going to be alone forever. That’s not so bad.”

“At least I have you.” Steve nodded, mouth full of squishy sweet banana.

He nearly choked when his phone began to ring in his hand, your name and photo popping up on the display screen. “Robin, it’s her.”

“What?”

“She’s calling me.” He held his phone to the camera on his laptop to prove a point.

“Speaker phone!” Robin squeaked.

With a sigh, he answered, phone pressed to his ear to respect your privacy. Robin glared.

“Hello?”

“Steve?” The worry in your voice had his heart kicking up in his throat.

“What’s wrong?”

Robin echoed his sentiments until he snapped his fingers and put his finger to his lips to quiet her.

“Nothing, it’s um… could you… are you busy?”

“Nope. Not busy at all,” he said. Robin threw a silent fit on her end. “What’s going on?”

“Could you just… come down to the gallery? I need your help with something.”

“Yeah,” he frowned, walked the rest of his banana to the garbage can. “Like, later today?”

“Or right now. Could you come right now? As soon as possible?”

His stomach dropped to his feet. “Yes. Yes, I will be right there. Keep the door locked until I get there.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

He hung up and rushed to the door to get his shoes on. His keys and wallet were in his pocket before he heard another voice echo throughout his kitchen.

“Harrington!? Hello!? Earth to Dingus!”

“Shit,” he sidled up to his laptop. “Robin, I am so sorry.”

She managed a knowing smirk and a laggy nod. “Yeah, you owe me, big time Harrington. Text me everything that happens.”

“I love you,” he agreed.

“See you next week!”

“In real life!” He hung up before she had a chance to blabber on, and he was out the door.

—

The worry etched across your beautiful features was devastating.

Steve yearned to wrap you into his arms and promise he’d protect you, to kiss the frown lines from between your brows, to tickle at your ribs until you smiled again.

Instead, he stood three feet away, inspecting a bouquet of three dozen red roses that had been delivered to the gallery that morning with a note attached.

Roses are Red

Beauty is You

Stay away from the Devil

Before he kills you

A printed photograph was pinned to the card, a pap photo from a gala you and Eddie had attended together a few weeks ago. Eddie’s shoulders were squeezed into a rhinestoned blazer, flash reflecting off his sunglasses. Devil horns and a tale had been crudely drawn over his features in red ball point pen. You stood beside him, hand-in-hand, curves standing out in a black silk dress. One small strap was dangling off your shoulder. The same pen was used to etch slash marks through your exposed throat, so hard it had ripped through the page.

“Is this… like Eddie wouldn’t do this, right?” Your voice shook, hand trembling against your cheekbone. You balled a tissue into your fist.

“No! God no,” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, Jesus, I hope not.” He muttered under his breath. “Have you called him?”

You shrugged, nodded. “I tried, and texted. He was still asleep when I left.”

Steve cleared his throat with a nod, remembering you’d gone home with the rockstar. You probably slipped out of black silk sheets and into the black and grey marbled shower. You probably toed around in front of the massive high-rise window, searching for various garments that had been removed on every inch of the house. Maybe you’d made yourself a latte, with a splash of lavender like you like it, wearing an oversized black hoodie that smelled of weed and cigarettes and some cologne Steve couldn’t afford.

“I can try again,” you fished your phone from your back pocket and dialed.

Steve plucked the card from the roses for any indication of a delivery service or floral company, but the card was blank, ivory, high-quality. “Who delivered these?”

“Old guy, balding, green vest,” you shrugged.

Steve nodded.

“Hey, Sugar,” Eddie’s voice rasped over speaker. “S’matter. Did you leave something here, or d’you just miss me?”

“No, um…” You changed your balance from one foot to the other. “Eds, did you send me roses?”

“Fuck, you want me to eat you out and send you roses?” The rockstar chuckled.

Steve swallowed and didn’t dare look at you directly. He felt the heat radiating off of you as you frantically turned off speaker-phone and held the device to your ear, covering your face with a hand.

“No, babe, Jesus. I got a delivery of roses today with a um…” Your voice trembled again.

Steve brushed delicate fingers to your arm and held out his hand to take the phone.

You gave it willingly.

“Eddie, hey,” Steve sighed.

“Harrington? What is going on? Am I still asleep?”

“No, dude, she called me when she couldn’t get ahold of you. Listen, there’s this big bouquet of roses here with a death threat attached. You didn’t have anything to do with this, right? It’s not some kind of prank?”

“A death threat? What do you mean? A prank? Jesus, how shitty of a person do you think I am? Is she okay? I’m coming down there.”

Steve winced around the shuffle of bedsheets and the sound of Eddie clomping around his bedroom.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, dude. Here, let me send you a picture.”

Steve took his own phone out to take and send a photo, rifling past a barrage of text messages from Robin.

You’d propped yourself on the reception desk, eyes darting between the flowers and outside. The morning light poured in, hollowing your cheekbones and painting your walls pink.

Steve reached for your elbow, running his thumb over the bit of skin there to pull your focus back.

You offered a sheepish smile and squeezed his wrist.

“Oh what the fuck?” Eddie yelled through the phone, startling you both.

“Yeah, it’s bad,” Steve agreed, rubbing at tired eyes.

“Is she okay? Let me talk to her. Wait, Harrington, do you think it’s Carver?”

Steve’s blood ran cold.

Jason Carver was a religious zealot from a small town with a vendetta for Eddie Munson and “demons like him”. Two years ago, his army of his cronies marched to a Corroded Coffin show in Milwaukee and set the place on fire. They managed to get everyone out of the bar before the roof collapsed. More Molotovs were thrown before the cops arrived.

Since Carver wasn’t in attendance and denied any involvement in inciting the riot, he received a slap on the wrist and no jail time. The band did manage an airtight restraining order, but Steve doubted that looped in contact with Munson’s hook-ups.

He cursed under his breath.

“Yeah, fuck is right. Let me talk to her. Don’t let her leave your sight. I’ll pay you triple if I have to. Twenty-four hour surveillance. You hear me?”

“Don’t worry about the cash, man,” Steve shook his head. “I won’t leave her. I’m going to call the delivery company and see if they can give me any more information on the purchase, and then I’ll call Joyce and see if she can’t get her written into the restraining order.”

“Thank you, man. I want you to take her home to get her stuff and then bring her over here. If it is him, he can’t get to her here.”

Steve hated that he was right.

“Put her on for me. Thanks again, bro.”

With a resigned sigh, Steve slipped the phone back into your trembling hands.

He overheard Eddie’s tone slip into something softer, “Sugar, how’re you doing? Are you alright? I’m so so sorry this happened to you, my sweet girl.”

You gave Steve’s hand one more squeeze before you wandered off across the gallery for some privacy in your phone call.

Steve opened his browser to began searching for the delivery company’s number with a pit in his stomach and an unfillable ache in his chest.

—

Robin: OMFG that’s so scary. Is she ok? Are you ok? Is Eddie ok? I’m going to be there in a week, plz don’t get murdered.

—

Your keys clicked in the lock, and you toed open the door to your little apartment. Light poured in through large windows, casting warmth on the small space that the dark hallway hid. You stepped in first, and Steve followed with trepidation.

He’d never been to your house, and when he walked over the threshold, he was overpowered by how you it felt. The whole place smelled of you, of your shampoo and the perfume you spritz on special nights. Your little kitchen table was scattered with stacks of old mail and rolls of film. A laptop sat open on a squishy futon sofa. Beneath your television were a handful of films he knew you loved.

“How long um… how much should I pack?” You squinted, pinching at the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry,” you sighed. “This is a lot, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

Once again, he felt the ache to pull you into him, to whisper sweet words into your hair. Instead he gestured to a bar stool. “Take a seat. Take a breath. I’m going to check the house, if that’s alright.”

He winced as your face flooded with realization, and fear.

“It’s probably fine. I just want to be safe.” He tried to sound nonchalant, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You swallowed, nodded, gestured for him to go ahead. “Sorry it’s a mess.”

He waved you off with a knowing smile and started down the hallway, relieved when he turned to see you sitting as instructed. You’d been on your feet all day, making arrangements with the gallery owners to have someone take your shift for the evening and tomorrow. When you weren’t on the phone or emailing buyers, you were staring out the windows, a far-off gaze in your eye. You held that now, looking down your living room windows at the busy downtown street below.

Steve took the first door to the left and found a small bathroom. Some tiles in the corner were cracked, and the sink was scattered with the remnants of a makeup bag, a toothbrush. The bathtub’s curtain was pulled back to reveal a loofah dangling from the faucet.

Your bedroom waited at the end of the hall. His fingertips pushed the door open, breath shallow, face warm.

Sage green linens were crumpled on your bed with three overstuffed pillows. Dirty clothes littered your floor in piles leading to and from the closet. That black satin dress topped an armchair, the strap snapped.

Steve swallowed.

A hefty dresser sat to the right of the door, the top scattered with trinkets and photographs. He was surprised to find his own image scowling back at him, arms crossed, black t-shirt on, leaning against a concrete wall. The sun hit him just so, framing his eyes like a superhero mask, the rest of him cast in shadow. God, all of the world really was better through your lens.

“All clear?” Your soft voice startled him.

He cleared his throat, cheeks warm, to find you at the doorway, hugging your arms to yourself. He smiled. “Clear. I’ll just wait in the front room.” He gestured to slip past you.

“Actually, do you mind hanging out? It’ll only take a second.” You gestured for him to sit on the bed before you scampered about your room, picking up the dirty clothes and depositing them into the hamper.

He remained standing in the doorway, arms crossed like they were in the photo. “Get enough for a couple of days if you want, but we’re going to get this figured out.”

You wore your anxiety like a jacket, hunched shoulders and furrowed brow, a shell of the vibrant woman he knew.

He took a few steps forward, halting your frantic shoving of clothes in a backpack.

You blinked back up at him, eyes wide, hands trembling.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You laughed then, a manically sound that didn’t meet your eyes. “Steve, am I just insane? Or stupid? Am I the dumbest person in the entire world?”

“What?” He tried not to focus on the way your hair haloed around your face, light pouring in through gossamer curtains.

“I knew the novelty of sleeping with a rockstar would wear off eventually, but I was thinking like he’d cheat on me with a super model or maybe I’d get a curable STD, but not this.” It was the most you’d spoken all day, your old self sinking back into your voice.

Steve smiled, itched at the back of his neck, shrugged. “Eddie’s a very charming man.”

You rolled your eyes. “I mean, okay, Eddie’s good, but he’s not death-threats good.”

Steve felt a little surge of excitement at this knowledge, maybe a bit of competition sparking in him again. “Sure, but he’s a good guy. He really likes you.”

“I think he calls me ‘Sugar’ because he forgot my real name and got too embarrassed to ask.”

Your confession had Steve’s jaw on the floor, and when you laughed, he felt light as air. This time your laugh met your eyes, met your mouth, your cheeks. You swatted at his chest.

“Steve, you were supposed to tell me that’s not true.”

Steve snickered and merely shrugged.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid.” You pushed past him and to the bathroom to start collecting your toiletries. The anxiety was temporarily snuffed and replaced with the ease of routine, of being in your space surrounded by your things, and Steve felt himself relax a bit knowing you were comfortable.

—

Joyce: Got it taken care of, sweetheart. Hop says he’ll file a report and to let him know if you need an extra hand. Dinner next weekend? Steak and potatoes? Take care of yourself.

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—

Munson pulled his ragged hair up into a bun with a hair tie he kept around his wrist. Steve often wondered if it was yours, or if the rockstar pulled it from the locks of some groupie on the road, long nights spent in truck stops and blues houses. The tie had lost some elasticity over the years, and tendrils managed to fall into the man’s eyes, and even still, he looked cool, casual, calm.

He was anything but calm. His knee bounced as he took a glass of water from Steve filled for him. “What did I do wrong, man?”

Steve sighed and sat across from him, back to massive windows overlooking the city lights. He kept his mouth shut, not wanting to be caught in the middle of this tiff you were having.

“I mean, I just want to keep her safe. I’m the one that got her in this mess in the first place.” Eddie extended an inked arm toward his bedroom door. You’d been in there for over an hour now, having excused yourself to bed for the night.

You’d made a point that you were going to bed alone.

“Should I not have told her how I feel?”

Steve pinched at this bridge of his nose, eyes tired and struggling to focus in a room of black velour upholstery and gold trim.

The spat started when Eddie informed you he’d booked your ticket to join him in England for the next few months while Corroded Coffin records their next album. It ended when Eddie, on bended knees, hands gripping your ribcage, told you he loved you.

Steve watched the entire exchange awkwardly from the kitchen, trying to blend in with white marble countertops.

Apparently, today was a day for firsts. He’d never seen you as nervous as he had in the gallery that morning, and he’d never seen you as angry. You were the silent type, but he felt the rage radiating off of your frame, the clench of your jaw, the subtle brush of Eddie’s hands from your waist.

He caught your gaze when you exited the room, and your demeanor shifted to apologetic, embarrassed maybe. He managed a tight-lipped smile and a wave.

“Harrington,” Eddie snapped his fingers. “Come on, you’re good with women, right? Help me out.”

Steve snorted. He’d been good with women, sure, but not since you waltzed into his life with your SD card and that smirk.

“How do we make up?” Munson’s shoulders were hunched, face fraught with worry.

With another drawn out sigh, Steve shrugged. “Give her space, man. She had a really scary day. You remember your first death threat, right? She needs time to process and not for you to demand she be shipped off to another country for two months.”

Eddie nodded, too much, too exuberantly. “Okay, okay. You’re right. That makes sense. I just…” He lowered his voice. “I just don’t want to lose her.”

That emotion, Steve understood. It was a fear that prickled at the base of his neck anytime Eddie winked at another girl in the front row, anytime he had his arms looped over two women backstage, anytime his phone sat on the coffee table between them with Sugar blowing up the notifications, neglected. Didn’t Eddie know what he had in you?

“We won’t.” He shook his head.

Eddie nodded. “You’re a good man, Steve Harrington. I’m sure going to miss you.”

Steve frowned at that, arms crossed over his chest. “Miss me? The hell are you talking about?”

“When I’m in England,” Eddie explained, reaching forward for the tin lunch box he kept tucked under the coffee table. The lid hid the glass with a clang, and he reached in for rolling papers, a lighter, and a ziplock bag full of weed.

“Are you firing me?” Steve wasn’t following.

Munson snorted, rolled a neat joint, licked it closed. “Harrington, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

Steve warmed, as he often did when someone complimented him, and frowned. “Cut the crap. What’re you talking about?”

“You’re going to stay here, with her.” He nodded your direction and lit up, flame glowing in big, brown eyes while he took a drag. He held onto it for a minute, shoulders going slack, knee stopping its bounce. He tilted his head against the back of the couch and released a large billow of smoke skyward, casting the room in a sickly sweet haze.

“She’s right, man,” he continued. “It’s not fair of me to take her from her gallery. She worked too hard for this.”

He sat up, offered the joint to his friend. Steve declined, head already starting to spin.

Eddie shrugged and took another hit. “I need you to protect her.”

Steve nodded. That was the easiest thing his friend had ever asked him to do.

“While I’m away, think you could do me another favor?

More smoke billowed from the man’s pink lips, that familiar Munson charm tugging at the corners of his mouth until his teeth were bared in that irresistible grin he was so famous for. He leaned forward then, gesturing for Steve to meet him at the center of the coffee table.

Steve leaned forward, and then a little more when the gesturing didn’t stop, rolling his eyes. “What now?”

Eddie’s smile fell to something far more serious, concern etched in his features, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes big like a baby deer in the headlights. Steve had only seen him this scared a handful of times. “I need you to use those killer wingman skills of yours to make her fall in love with me.”

Steve’s mouth almost fell open. He had to clench his jaw to keep from doing so, blinking across the six-inch gap at his friend. He could taste the weed on the other boy’s lips, the sweat off his brow.

“Please, man. I can’t lose her.”

—

Robin: You said yes!? How much do you actually hate yourself, Harrington?

Steve: You don’t want me to answer that, do you?

Robin: Was it the baby deer eyes?

Steve: Obviously.

Steve thanked Becky at the front desk with a wink, desperate the ego stroke he got every time she smiled at him like he hung the moon on a string.

Mood boosted, he balanced the coffee order in one hand and his phone in the other and ducked into the nearest elevator that would take him to the penthouse.

Steve: What do we think of Front Desk Becky?

Robin: You leave that sweet girl out of this.

Sufficiently deflated by his wise best friend, Steve keyed in the code to Eddie’s penthouse and let himself back in. Your sneakers remained on the entry rug, camera bag discarded on a nearby table.

Eddie’s bedroom door was open, satin sheets crumpled and pillows stacked to accommodate one. Upon quick glance, the ceiling mirror reveled the room to be empty.

Steve frowned. He hoped he hadn’t woken you.

He pressed forward down the hall and into the open living space, setting the cardboard coffee carrier on the kitchen island before turning to find you pressed against the glass, silhouetted in pink morning sunlight. Eddie’s face was buried into your neck, hands unseen, and your eyelids were heavy, pink lips bowed in ecstasy.

Steve froze. He knew he should look away, leave the room, make a noise, but his gaze lingered on the soft skin of your thigh hitched up Eddie’s leg, the curve of your calf, the point of your toe.

He could hear his heartbeat thundering, breath held, desperate not to make a sound or to scream and run.

Eddie dipped to his knees, mouth finding purchase lower on your chest.

Steve caught your gaze. Your eyes widened, and you shoved Eddie away from you and scrambled to cover bare skin with an oversized black hoodie.

“Steve,” you breathed, and Jesus it was dizzying. “I’m so sorry. I thought you left.” You pulled the hoodie down in a vain attempt at covering your thighs, looking everywhere but at the bodyguard in the kitchen.

He felt his own face warm, tapping fingertips to the countertops. His throat felt tight, a loss for words. His pants felt tighter.

“I ordered us coffee, Sugar,” Munson recovered the quickest, taking your hand to help himself off the floor and lead you into the kitchen.

You resisted his pull, taking a few steps back to say, “I’m going to get ready.”

“Need help?” Eddie waggled his eyebrows, grinning like a dog. Steve tried to ignore how wet the man’s lips looked.

You shook your head, venturing a glance Steve’s direction and looking immediately away when you were caught. Then you slunk off back to the bedroom from whence you came.

When he finally heard the click of the door, Steve frowned at his employer. “Guess I should’ve knocked.”

Eddie waggled his brows at Steve, too, taking his cup from the carrier and managing a sip.

Steve was ready with an ice water to cool the man’s burned tongue. “Does this mean you made up?”

Eddie shook his head fervently, tonguing at his water like a dog. “Hell no. She told me she’s going to the gallery today because, and I quote, she ‘can’t be held hostage in this velvet prison forever’.”

Steve grinned over his own steaming coffee and shrugged in commiseration to his friend.

Eddie nodded, took a gentler sip of his own coffee this time. “Had to shut her up when she started telling me to ‘have fun in the UK’ and maybe I should look up some old friends while I’m there.”

Steve swallowed and nodded. “I mean, Lizzie.”

“Don’t make me pin you to that window, Harrington,” the rockstar warned, inked finger extended with a scowl.

Steve followed his point to the window, wherein he could just make out the smudges of four distinct handprints, two much smaller than the others. There was also the faintest of smudges where your ass had been pressed against the glass. Steve coughed at the saliva gathering in his mouth.

“Eds?” You called upon reentry, voice echoing off concrete floors. “I’m leaving. I’ll… call you or something.” You were dressed and you had a tube of lipgloss in your hand, uncorked.

Eddie scrambled for you, scooping you up in his arms.

You stiffened, glancing up at the bodyguard keeping watch in the corner.

Steve swallowed, made himself look busy.

“Sugar, Steve’s going to keep an eye on you, just until we figure this death threat thing out, okay?” Eddie cleared the hair from your face.

Steve glanced back up to see you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need a babysitter. No offense, Steve.” You held a hand up to him.

“He’s not a babysitter,” Eddie snapped, “and he’s going to keep you safe. I can’t lose you. You hear me?” He pulled your gaze back to him, cupping your small jaw in large hands. “I love you.”

“Eddie,” you winced, tugging at his wrists.

The rockstar dropped his hands, shoulders hunched in defeat, and he turned to give Steve a pleading look before he turned back to you. “Alright, Sug. I’ll see you in two months. I’ll call as often as I can.”

“Okay,” you nodded and allowed him to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

—

Your lipstick stained the lid of your lavender latte, peachy pink. Your nails were freshly manicured for the gallery opening, and you always wore that delicate gold ring on your middle finger.

You set your cup on the countertop and didn’t look up from your laptop to say, “If you’re bored, you don’t have to stay here. I promise I’ll tell Eddie I never left your sight.”

Steve smiled over his own cup. “I’m not bored.” To appear occupied, he settled onto the desk behind yours and pulled out his phone.

The first image on his feed was yours, something you’d managed to snap of the old woman and her husband from the opening. They stared at the portrait of their apartment building, hand-in-hand, and you’d taken it at just the right instant, when the husband was smiling down at his wife.

Mr. and Mrs. Edgar Jones • Chicago

The gallery opening was everything I’d ever hoped for. Thank you to all sponsors and patrons who attended and to everyone who helped pull this together. If you’d like to check out my work, please drop by the gallery and say hello.

Steve hummed to himself, double-tapping, and typed a comment.

sharrington: Best gallery opening I’ve been to.

“Steve,” you scolded, “quit commenting on my shit. I’m standing right here.” It was the first smile he’d seen since yesterday.

“Oh, sorry,” he grinned, crossing his arms over his chest again to say, “Yours was the best gallery opening I’ve been to.”

That beautiful smile tugged even higher on your cheeks, despite your eye roll. “It was the only gallery opening you’ve been to.”

“You don’t know that,” he feigned offense.

You cocked a brow, bursting his facade until you were both snickering a laugh.

“Okay, but come on,” he pushed himself off the desk and strolled out into the open gallery. Egg shell white walls were naturally lit by skylights and the fourth glass wall of the small space. “This place was packed with people obsessed with your work, myself included.”

“Yeah?” You smiled, but remained behind the shelter of your desk. “Which one’s your favorite?”

A bubble of giddy excitement kicked in his chest, and he turned to face your artwork. The sunlight reflecting off the lake was good, the streak of streetlights in the rain, a collection of big, red brick buildings: all of these were his favorite. You’d managed to capture his city in unique and beautiful ways.

He pointed at each one and glanced back to see you shaking your head, eyes brightening and mouth failing to hide that smile.

Finally, he found that photo of the L he was admiring that night and wrapped his knuckles near it. “This one. You managed to capture no plastic bags.”

You rolled your eyes, but let his gesture pull you from your desk. “You can’t see it, but there was one caught around my ankle when I took the shot.”

Steve laughed. “Now that’s something I’d pay to see.”

You sucked your cheeks in a pout and glanced down the row at all of your photos, your accomplishments on display. “Steve,” you muttered. “Can I… vent for a second?”

“Of course,” he nodded, turning to face you, giving you his undivided attention.

You turned your body toward him as well, hands tucked under your arms. “It’s about Eddie.”

Steve felt his brow raise, but he nodded, miming the zip of his lips and extending you the key.

You chewed around another smile and extended your hand for him to place the invisible key into and wrapped your beautiful fingers around it. Then, you looked back at your photograph and chewed on your words.

Steve leaned forward to catch your gaze, pull your focus back on him.

You sighed, shrugged. “It’s just… Eddie’s used to having women fall at his feet and do whatever he says, isn’t he?”

Steve tried to keep his expression stoic, but it was hard when he thought of all the bras he’d kicked off of a stage, all of the groupies Eddie fingered in the wings, all of the women he’d had to call a ride share for to ensure they got home safely, too wobbly on their legs to drive.

You barked a laugh. “I know he is because I’m one of them.” You didn’t seem amused.

Steve frowned, shook his head. You deserve more credit than that. You weren’t like the others, not by a long shot.

“He came to my opening, right? He saw how important this was to me. Hell, he told you to help me run it because he had faith in me that it was going to be big.” You gestured around wildly as you spoke, frustration building in your tone. “And yet, he expects me to just pack up everything and fly to England for two months?”

Steve swallowed, chewing on his own words now.

“I know, it’s because he’s worried about me, and I do appreciate that, but it’s also like… I feel like he didn’t know what he had in me until he saw me get spooked, and now he’s trying to lock me down.” You frowned. “I can’t be broken. I’m not a horse.”

Steve nodded.

You paused a moment longer before looking into his eyes again. “If I ask you something, you promise to be honest with me?”

He nodded again, slowly. He’d do anything for you.

“Do you think he’s really in love with me?”

Steve’s heart shattered at the hope that lingered in your voice. He swallowed, remembered his promise to Eddie, and nodded.

You let out another strained laugh, as though you couldn’t believe it, and centered yourself before asking another. “Do you think he’s going to sleep with other women while he’s away?”

Again, Steve steeled himself with a deep breath, and shook his head. Eddie wouldn’t if he knew what was good for him, and what was good for him was you.

You cocked a brow, unbelieving of this answer, and toyed with another question in your mind for a moment. “Do you think I should go with him to England?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, gesturing around at your beautiful gallery. Two months with Eddie Munson wasn’t worth giving all of this up. If he was serious, and he really did love you, he’d prove it to you when he got back.

Your lips ticked upwards at that answer. “Hey, this zipped-lip Steve thing is kind of fun. I should have made you shut up a long time ago.”

Steve rolled his eyes and snorted at your delight.

You reached your hands out to grab his, swinging them back and forth between the two of you. Your hands were warm and and small and soft. “Hey, Steve, is there something you really, really want to tell me, but can’t? Because you can, you know.” You smirked. “This is a safe space. We’re all friends here.”

Sunlight poured in through the windows, casting your face in a golden glow. Your eyes sparkled, cheeks round, lips that soft, peachy pink.

There were so many things he wanted to say to you, he didn’t know where to start. So he caressed the backs of your hands with his thumbs and nudged you ever-closer.

The toes of your sneakers touched. Your eyelashes batted. You tilted your face skyward to look up at him. You licked your lips.

God, he wished he could kiss you. He wished he could taste the lavender of your latte and the length of your throat. He wished he could press you to the glass and let the world know you were his. He wished he could tell you every day for the rest of his life how beautiful you are, how talented you are, how perfect you are.

The smile fell from your face. You released one of his hands to brush hair from his forehead.

He held his breath.

You searched his gaze for something, your own features filled with worry, and you nodded. “You’re really scared about this Jason Carver guy, huh?”

Steve blinked. He’d forgotten entirely about the roses, the death threat, the reason he’d been paid to spend time with you, to watch over you, to protect you.

He cleared his throat and looked down at your hand in his. He brushed the back of it again with his thumb. His throat was tight, voice raw. “I just want to keep you safe.”

A bell rang, putting a few feet between you. You adjusted your hair and straightened your top before shooting him a ‘wish me luck’ look and stepping away to greet your newest buyer.

—

Hopper: No leads on that delivery. I’ve got Callahan asking around. Powell’s looking into Carver. Keep me posted on other developments.

Steve tapped nervous fingers to the deli’s glass countertops, craning his neck for a vantage on your gallery windows.

You’d practically forced him out, insisting this was your favorite sandwich place in town and nothing else would suffice. When he offered to pay for delivery, you reminded him how uncomfortable you felt with deliverers right now and promised you’d lock the door behind him. He wished he could have convinced you to join him.

“Dude, we’re going as fast as we can,” the sandwich artist snapped, cutting pastrami into thin slices.

Steve frowned back at him, confused for a moment, before taking his hand from the glass and shoving it into his jeans pocket. “Oh, sorry.” His foot tapped instead.

An 80s love ballad played over the speakers, and the whole place smelled of cold cuts. A small line had formed behind the counter of people going about their day-to-day.

Steve looked at each one of them as a suspect. Though, he was pretty sure Babushka in the headscarf wasn’t eliciting death threats to beautiful girls via three dozen red roses. She felt more like the cast-a-spell type.

He snorted and glanced back out the window just in time to see a black car pull up to the gallery. A man stepped out.

“Forty-five?” The deli employee called out.

Steve took a few steps toward the window, squinting against the glare to see a tall man with white hair approach the glass. He wrapped two knuckles on the front door. You met him there.

“Dude, your sandwiches!” The guy behind the counter called, and Steve cursed, grabbing them with a thanks and a nod.

He glanced up just in time to see you unlocking and opening the gallery door, and he began to run your direction.

“Hey, man! You forgot your pickles! Asshole…”

The wind whipped at his ears, and he nearly ran out in front of a moving vehicle. The driver honked and flipped him off, and Steve waited for him to pass before checking both ways and crossing to get to you again.

He made a mental note of the black car’s license plate: GCCF and swung open the gallery door with a ring of the bell.

The man stood beside you, tall and lanky, with broad shoulders and a haircut that hadn’t changed since the early 70s. He wore a grey suit, and a black tie, and a smile as he admired your photos.

You smiled at Steve from across the space and waved.

Relief warmed Steve’s spine, and he toed to the desktop to place the sandwich bag, careful not to make any noise so he could overhear bits of your conversation.

“That sounds like an amazing opportunity,” you said, even-keeled, though Steve knew you were bursting inside. “I’m honored for the invitation.”

“I’m glad you agree,” the man chuckled. “Your talent really is a gift to this city, and we’ll be proud to display your work in our halls.”

You were beaming. Steve’s stomach flipped.

“Now, our guests usually love to speak with the artists featured in the auction. Are you free Friday evening? Could I coax you to attend?” The man turned to face you now, reaching into his inside pocket for something.

Steve took two steps forward.

The man extended you a small, white slip of paper.

You read it over with a tight-lipped nod. Then you smiled. “I would love to go.”

“Excellent,” the man nodded. “It is black tie. Could I give my assistant the name of a plus-one?”

You swallowed before answering. “Sure, Steve Harrington.”

Steve felt his face warm, and he nearly tripped over a power cord stepping back behind the desk.

The man you were speaking to nodded with a knowing smile and glanced down at his watch. “Well, unfortunately I must be going. I have a lunch meeting to attend. Good timing too, it seems as if your lunch has arrived, and it smells delicious.” He ventured a glance Steve’s direction, and the bodyguard squared his shoulders.

“Thank you so much for dropping by, and for your business. I look forward to the event.” You smiled, extending a hand for the stranger to shake.

He reciprocated your gesture. “Thank you for your work, my dear. It is breathtaking. Expect that deposit by end of day, and we’ll see you Friday evening. Have a great day.”

“You too.”

Steve watched you watch the man walk to the door and get into his car. Your chest was still, breath held until the black car was started and began to drive.

Then, you began to jump up and down, screaming, like a teenaged girl who had just been asked to prom.

Steve frowned, shaking his t-shirt to dry the sweat that clung to his back. “What’s going on?”

You grinned and did an adorable little skip and hop back to your desk, sliding two pieces of paper across for him to read. Then, you broke into the sandwich bag.

Steve peered down at a stark white business card with grey lettering, and a matching invitation.

Martin Brenner

Founder and CEO

Gifted Children of Chicago Foundation

Annual Gala and Live Auction

“So, this guy, Brenner or whatever,” you explained, peeling the parchment paper from your bread, “just came in and bought my entire playground collection. Can you believe it? All nine photos. He said he’s going to hang them in the halls of his school.” The sound that came from your lips exceeded dogs’ hearing in pitch.

Steve bit back a smile to let you continue.

You took a huge bite of your sandwich first, olive oil clinging to the corner of your lips and dripping down the back of your hand.

Steve shook a napkin from the paper bag and handed it to you.

You thanked him, mouth full, and swallowed before mopping your face. “Then he says he wants to offer up another one of my pieces in their annual live auction.”

Steve snapped a photo of the two cards and sent them to his contacts in the police force for some background information, nodding to let you know he was listening.

“Do you own a tuxedo, by the way?” You asked, cheek chipmunked.

Steve frowned back at you. He’d been head of security for Corroded Coffin for upwards of six years. He’d been to more award shows than he could count. Of course he had a tuxedo.

“What?” You feigned innocence, cracking into one of the sodas you’d pulled from the vending machine while you waited for Steve to return. “If you have to be my new bodyguard, I can’t go to this gala alone.”

He sighed and began to neatly unfold his own sandwich, lettuce falling every which way. “Yes, I have a tuxedo.”

“Really?” You grinned. “I should bring my camera.”

He shot you a look. “You going to tell me why you unlocked the door for a random stranger while I was picking up your lunch?”

You swallowed. “He sent me an email?”

Steve maintained eye contact while he popped the tab on his own soda, shoulders squared. He felt like a dad every time he interrogated Eddie for late nights out with no correspondence. The stance didn’t translate well to Robin over text.

“I figured I could take an old man,” you shrugged.

Steve cocked an eyebrow.

You sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Satisfied, for now, Steve took a bite into his sandwich and stared back down at the business card on the tabletop, hoping this guy didn’t have any ties to Carver or whoever it was that sent you that note.

“No pickles?” You frowned, peeking into the mostly empty paper sack.

—

1 Voicemail

Hey, kid. It’s Hopper. Brenner’s one of Chicago elites, but as far as we know he’s harmless. He runs that school for gifted kids. Real pillar of the community type. Could be mob ties, but who the hell in this city doesn’t have mob ties?

Couldn’t find anything on the delivery company, and no florists in town filled orders that big. Something’s definitely off. Powell spoke to Carver’s assistant, but he was out of the office. Keep an eye out.

Joyce wanted me to invite you and the girl to dinner. Stay safe, kid. Let me know if anything else comes up.

Lucas: All safely on the plane and ready for take off. England won’t be the same without you, man. Take care.

Eddie: Ready for take off. Thanks for taking care of my girl, big man. See you in two months.

Robin: You’re sitting in your car watching her apartment? You’re a creep, Harrington. Please tell me you don’t know the color of her bra tonight.

Steve groaned and rubbed at tired eyes.

He hated that he knew your bra was a soft, stone grey. He’d seen the strap slip down your arm. You’d caught it and pushed it back up, mid-conversation with a browser this afternoon.

He glanced up from the glare of his phone at your open front window. He couldn’t see anything substantial from this vantage, just the shadows cast on dimly lit ceilings as you moved around your home.

Maybe Robin was right, maybe he should go home and rest. No more threats had been issued today, that he knew of. You seemed to be less afraid than you were the day before, and with Eddie gone, maybe you weren’t in as much harm as you had been. Still, something gnawed at him.

Steve startled when his phone began vibrating in his hand. Your name, and a photo of you grinning back at him, filled his little car with light. He answered. “Hello?”

“I can see you.”

Steve gulped and shifted to look back up at your window. You stood there in an oversized sweatshirt, waggling your fingers.

“Come inside, please.”

“What?”

“Bring your fedora and binoculars and come on up. I’ll buzz you in.”

You met him at the door in baggy clothes with two glasses of wine in your hand. You waited for him to step out of his shoes and shrug off his jacket before handing him one glass, and then you led him to the little futon propped up into a sofa near a loved coffee table.

A few candles burned, casting everything in flickered shadows. The place smelled of lavender and honey and smoky amber.

“So,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping from your glass. You pulled your legs up to be crossed and tilted yourself to face him. “Tell me about this Carver guy.”

Steve frowned, stretching an arm across the back of the couch to appear comfortable.

“Well, if it’s serious enough that Eddie’s got you staking out my apartment, I need to know who I’m up against.” You frowned, taking another sip from your glass, the legs spilling from your sweet lips and back into the liquid.

Charity events attracted a diverse crowd, metal bands and church groups converging for the greater cause, their own positive PR. Knocked elbows at the start of the night often led to knockouts once the open bar started flowing. The mob made connections and burned bridges and somehow, the world kept turning.

One such event, Steve had eyes on Munson from across the room. The rockstar was flirting with some senator-to-be or another, a good friend of the Obamas, if he remembered correctly. Sinclair had eyes on the other band members at other tables. They all seemed happy, buzzed, low-key despite studded tuxedos.

Steve clocked the approach before Eddie had. A blonde man in a white suit caught sight and B-lined from near the stage.

Steve crossed to intercept him, stopping the young man with two fingers to his chest before he could get around the final linen-covered table. “Can I help you?”

The stranger’s face split in a menacing grin that sent chills down his spine. Never in his life had Steve felt something so cold. All his instincts went on high alert, fight or flight. One fist clenched at his side.

“I was just hoping for a little tête-á-tête with Mr. Munson,” the man gestured a hand out.

Steve dropped his hand, noticing the steel tie pin in the shape of a cross. “He’s busy at the moment, but let me take down your information, and we’ll see if we could find time for you at a later function.”

“Are you his secretary or his babysitter?” Still with the grin, dead between the eyes.

“Why? You looking for a playdate?” Steve squared his shoulders, inches taller than the other man.

“I’m just looking to ask one question.”

“Shoot,” Eddie approached from behind Steve, shoulders squared in the same manner as his bodyguard.

The other man tucked his hand into white jacket, and Steve stuck his hand in front of Eddie, just in case, until Carver retrieved his business card and handed it over. Sleek, white, with grey lettering.

Reverend Jason Carver

Faithful Servant of Christ

“Do you, Mr. Munson, take responsibility for casting yourself and all of your followers to the very depths of Hell to burn for an eternity?”

Steve didn’t take his eyes off of Carver, but he could feel Eddie’s grin growing beside him.

“You’re damn right I do.”

Carver seemed just as pleased with this answer as the rockstar had been. He nodded, an odd twinkle in his eye, and said, “Thank you so much, Mr. Munson. I hope you and your hell hound have a lovely evening.”

That was the one and only time Steve had met the man, and he’ll never forget the weight of his presence.

You’d set your wine glass on the coffee table beside his, and you were curled closer now, frown creasing your sweet brow. “And then he burned that place down in Milwaukee?”

Steve sighed, playing with a loose thread on the futon, fingertips dangerously close to your shoulder. He wished he could sweep your hair back, kiss the crease from your forehead, reassure you he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

“Well, first, he had all of the funding pulled from that almost-senator, set her up for public exposure, basically ruined her entire life. When asked to comment, he said ‘jezebels and harlots get what they deserve’. Fucking asshole.” Steve scoffed.

There was a far-off look in your eye, like you were considering the weight of those words when compared to you.

Without a second thought, Steve brushed his knuckles against your cheek, pulling your focus back to him. “Hey, you know I’ll never let anyone hurt you, right?”

You surprised him by leaning into his touch, nodding. You released a shaky laugh, your voice caught in your throat. “I was really trying to be brave.”

Steve smiled, and opened his mouth to tell you you were, to tell you you were beautiful, to tell you he’s been in love with you from the moment he met you because you were all of those things.

Your phone began ringing, loud and incessant, a vibration from the coffee table that lit up the room with a photo of Eddie’s face.

You ducked away from Steve’s touch and patted at warmed cheeks, reaching for your phone. “I should probably get this.”

Steve nodded, cleared his throat, reached forward to take a long swig of alcohol. It went down dry.

“I actually think I’ll go to bed.” You silenced your phone and stood up, backing slowly from the living room. “You don’t mind the futon, right? Here are some extra blankets and a pillow.” You gestured toward a little wicker basket beside the sofa. “Use whatever you’d like in the bathroom.”

Steve stood to mirror you, hoping his smile seemed more reassuring than he felt. “Sleep tight. If you need anything…”

You nodded, smiled. “Thank you. Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night.”

Halfway down the hallway, you answered your phone, sweet nothings murmured for someone else.

---

Moodboard • Fic Masterlist • Part Two

[A/N: So yeah, this just kind of... came out of me. It's been cooking since February, but I've sat down like three times over the last week and spewed out 10k. And I got too excited to wait to post it, so here you are. Please give me all your thoughts and feelings. Is bodyguard!Steve my new favorite Steve? Is rockstar!Eddie my new favorite Eddie? Maybe so. xoxoxo]

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #bodyguard!steve harrington #rockstar!eddie munson #steve harrington #hell hound wip #hell hound fic

168 notes · View notes

writingonleaves · 6 months

Text

understated, overwhelming (life is always best when you're around) - nico hischier

pairing: nico hischier x self insert gender neutral reader

warnings: swearing, fluff, nothing much else!

title: "float" by HARBOUR

word count: 3.6k

author's note: hi hi hi!! tried something out of my comfort zone with a self insert reader. also tried my absolute best with a gender neutral reader but if i made a glaring mistake somewhere, please call me out! this is my entry for @callsign-denmark 's Luck of The Puck Fic Exchange written for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten !! andi, i'm so sorry this is a bit late but hope you enjoy this little piece as much as i enjoyed writing it (:

~*~*~

You consider yourself a pretty nice person.

You try to do your day job well, even if your supervisor drives you nuts from time to time. You call your mom every week, even if she thinks it should be more. You always help your elderly neighbor with their groceries if you happen to be outside at the same time. You foster dogs, mainly because your family has been doing it since you were young.

But right now, as music is booming through the walls that is most definitely not the music you have softly playing on your speaker, you’re not feeling very nice. It had been a tiring day at work and all you want to do is snuggle up in your bed with a book. Whatever rap music is playing through the walls from your neighbor isn’t helping.

You’re debating about whether you should say something. Firstly, you’re 90% sure it’s coming from the apartment across from you whose inhabitant you actually have seen the least. It’s not like you’re stalking your neighbors, but after living here for over two years now, you’re familiar with the faces. The only thing you know about the person who lives in 1708 is that there are two of them and that they look related. But that’s not even a sure fact.

All you know is right now, they’re getting on your last nerve.

You scratch behind Boba’s ears, the Jack Russell Terrier you’re currently fostering, and pat his head before you decide that you have to go say something. You gain some courage before opening your front door.

Turns out, you don’t even have to knock on your neighbors’ door. More accurately, it’s already open as a guy around your age, maybe a bit younger, says goodbye to the guy you’re almost positive lives there. Both the guys’ eyes slide to you and you fight the urge to shrink.

“Hi,” the guy with his hand on the doorknob says, not unkindly. “Can I help you?”

You blink, “Hi. Listen, I really don’t want to be a bitch, but could you turn your music down? It’s a weeknight and I have to work in the morning.”

To his credit, his eyes widen apologetically. “Shit, yeah, of course. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was so loud. We’re about to wrap up anyways.” You wave him off as he sticks his hand out. “I don’t know if we’ve met. I’m Jack.”

You offer your name with a tight-lipped smile before shifting your eyes towards the other guy, floppy hair almost covering the amused glint in his eyes. He’s been leaning against the wall this whole time and he’s really fucking cute. “And you are?”

“Nico,” he nods with a shake of your hand. “I’m also sorry about the noise on behalf of Jack, even though I don’t live here.”

“It’s fine,” you hear Boba’s paws trotting on the hardwood floor and you stick your foot out to prevent him from running out. “Well, it’s nice to meet you both.”

Jack’s eyes trail down to Boba, who's looking at the two new voices with curious eyes. “And who’s this?”

You hold in a sigh, picking up Boba in your arms so he doesn’t start running down the hallway. “This is Boba. You can pet him if you’d like. He loves people.” Jack needs no further invitation and reaches to scratch behind his ears. Nico is a bit more hesitant, but the grin threatening to spill out of his lips has you softening.

After more pets, Jack apologizes again and you bid them goodnight, ushering Boba back inside and turning off your lights. You hear no music, thank goodness, as you climb into bed.

A few weeks later you’re waiting for the elevator after a walk with Gretchen, a golden retriever who drives you nuts, when Nico runs in just as it closes. You don’t expect him to remember you, but he does, saying your name softly paired with a nod.

He gestures towards Gretchen, who’s nipping about at your feet. “That’s not Boba, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” you say. “This is Gretchen. Boba got adopted last week.” He opens his mouth but you beat him to it. “I foster dogs. None of them are mine. Just, you know, giving them a home when they need it before they find their permanent home.”

“That’s very sweet of you.”

You shrug, because it’s not that big of a deal. To you, at least. “My family did it growing up, still does. So it’s a part of me now, I guess.” You switch the topic. “What are you up to on this sunny Saturday?”

“I, uh, working, I guess.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you do?”

Nico clears his throat and now you’re intrigued. “I play hockey. Professionally. That’s how I know Jack, actually. And his roommate, who’s also his brother. We’re all teammates.”

You squint a bit, eyes scanning over Nico’s face before nodding slowly. “That somehow makes sense. That would explain the weird hours.”

“You keep track of Jack’s in and outs?”

“Considering I didn’t even know his name until the night we all met, no,” you snort as you both step into the elevator. “I just hear their door open and close at weird times. So, working today?"

“Yeah. We have a game tonight.”

“Gotcha.” You press the button for ‘17,’ not expecting Nico to lean over and press ‘21’ himself.

He must see your confusion. “I also live in this building,” he explains.

You blink. “How long?”

“A little over a year now, but as you figured out, it’s weird hours.”

A beautiful man like him has been living in the same building as you for that long and you haven’t ever run into him?

You nod, watching the handsome man bend down and coo at Gretchen, who licks his hand, that traitor. You did notice the first time you met him that he was really cute, but you were also really tired and cranky because of the noise. But here in the daylight, with a black beanie tossed over his hair and kindness in his eyes?

You need to get out of this elevator fast before you say something stupid.

Luckily, the pinging sound lets you know you’ve arrived on your floor. You give the leash a gentle hug before trying to give Nico a genuine smile. “Good luck at your game tonight.”

You rush out before there's even a chance for him to reply, Gretchen trotting along happily beside you.

*****

Something that sounds an awful lot like a smoke alarm going off greets you as you’re walking down the hallway to your place after work. It’s coming from Jack’s apartment, causing you to snort. You decide to knock on the door to make sure everything is alright.

It’s not Jack or his brother you have yet to meet yet who opens the door, but Nico. Over his shoulder, you see someone who looks a lot like Jack fanning a pillow. You do hear Jack cursing and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, amused. “You don’t live here.”

“Ouch.” He teases back. “That’s no way to treat a neighbor.”

“I think it’s quite nice of me to check up on my neighbor when I hear their smoke alarm going off, actually,” you shoot back. The playfulness in your voice surprises even you, but there’s something about the brown-haired man that makes you immediately comfortable. You feel like you’ve known him for years, even though you really don’t know anything about him. And you don’t count the things you had found when you searched “jack nico new jersey hockey” after you ran into Nico in the elevator.

(Finding out that you live across from one of the seemingly most skilled players in the NHL and that you also met the captain, another highly-skilled player, was a moment that had your head spinning. You had to shut down your laptop and play with Boba afterwards to get yourself togetherr)

The alarm stops beeping and Jack’s head pokes up behind Nico’s shoulder. “Hi neighbor!”

You can’t help but laugh at his boyishness. “Hey Jack.”

“Everything alright?”

“I think I should be asking you that question. I’m just coming back from work and I heard the alarm.”

Jack grimaced, casting a look back into his apartment. “Yeah, I don’t think dinner will be salvageable but that’s alright.”

“No it’s not,” the guy you presume is Jack’s brother grumbles.

Jack whacks him across the stomach. “Shut up. This is Luke, my younger brother.”

You nod with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Luke.” An idea pops in your mind. “I was gonna try a new lasagna recipe today. Do you three wanna come over in a bit?”

“You don’t need to do that,” Nico assures.

But you wave him away. “I never proportion my shit right anyways, so you’d actually all be doing me a favor. It shouldn’t take too long either.”

“Nico’s right,” Jack says. “That’s a really nice offer, but-”

“I won’t set off the smoke alarm,” you sing playfully. That seems to do it, as they laugh. They still seem hesitant, so you compromise. “How about this? Got any vegetable dishes up your sleeve?”

Jack brightens up. “I was gonna make a greek salad as a side before we almost burnt down the apartment.”

You beam. “Perfect. You guys can go make that while I get started on the lasagna.”

Before you can turn on your heel, Nico pipes up. “I can help you with the lasagna, if you want?” He casts a look at Jack and Luke. “I don’t wanna be around in case they somehow mess up the salad.”

The brothers start protesting as you laugh, slightly nervous at the prospect of spending some decent alone time with Nico. “Sure. It’ll probably go a bit faster with a set of extra hands.”

With that, Jack and Luke head back to their place while you fiddle with the key to yours, feeling Nico’s presence behind you. You push open the door and kick off your shoes as he does the same. He surveys your apartment as you hang up your coat. You pat yourself on the back for actually cleaning it yesterday rather than flopping in bed like you had initially wanted to.

As you start gathering ingredients, you let Nico explore, his eyes darting around your living space. You wonder what he thinks about the pictures you have on your wall of your family and friends, half expecting him to ask about them. But he keeps quiet as you turn on the stove, meandering over and waiting for instructions.

He’s a good sous chef, all things considered. Not that lasagna is particularly a hard recipe, but there’s something quite intimate about cooking with someone you barely know. Though, as you’re cooking, you tell Nico about your job, your background, how you didn’t necessarily think you’d end up in Jersey but that you’re happy to be here anyways. In turn, he tells you about his family, Switzerland and hockey, though you can tell he purposefully glazes over the latter. Judging from the basic research you’ve done — and whatever praises your hockey-loving cousin drawled on about over the phone yesterday — you immediately conclude that Nico is humble, always turning the conversation back to you.

It’s quite lovely, even if unexpected. The lasagna is almost done by the time Jack and Luke knock on your door.

For a few brief moments, you panic, wondering why you thought this was a good idea. What do you have in common with three pro-hockey players? But that panic quickly dissipates, Luke seeing the tiny Ohio State magnet on your fridge (your uncle’s, not yours) and immediately lightheartedly trash talking you as Jack and Nico take over setting up the table and plates.

You close your front door that night with three new numbers in your phone and an unofficial promise from you to catch a game in person sometime.

*****

You love Gretchen, you really do, but damn, she’s a lot of work.

You’re lucky that your job has flexible hours, because Gretchen’s barking would probably drive your neighbors insane if she was left alone in your apartment all day. She’s starting to drive you insane.

Somehow, she was well behaved at the outdoor market you went to today, so you give her a few treats to nibble on as you go back downstairs to grab everything else. As you’re shutting the door of your car, a bag slips out of your grasp and everything spills out, causing you to groan.

“You alright there?”

You look up from where you’re bending down to grab your things to see Nico briskly walking over from his car, an amused look on his face. You chuckle a bit. “Yeah. This bag decided just to crap out on me. Luckily, there’s nothing really breakable in there.”

He picks up some bath bombs and a loofah in minor confusion. The furrow in his eyebrows is kinda adorable. “What’s this for?”

“One of my coworkers is about to get married so all of us pitched in to get some spa products. I volunteered to put it together to make a gift basket of sorts.”

He hums, swinging the now-filled bag over his shoulder and walking alongside you as you head into the building. “That’s really nice of you. And a good idea for a gift too.”

“Yeah. To be fair, the spa stuff wasn’t necessarily my idea. I just had time to buy them today and I have a knack for making pretty baskets.”

“I should take some notes,” Nico says. “I have a couple friends back in Switzerland getting married soon and need to get them gifts.”

“You wanna come up and help me put it together?”

Nico visibility hesitates as you two wait for the elevator. “I don’t want to intrude in your plans.”

“I have no plans,” you deadpan. “It’s a Sunday. I’m surprised I even got myself to go to the market today.”

He laughs. “Well, in that case…” he presses the button for your floor, but not his. “Any dogs you got in your home right now?”

“Still Gretchen,” you say. “She’s being extra bitchy today though, so sorry in advance for all the barking.” You guys walk into your apartment, and Gretchen barks once before perching her head, begging for pets. Nico gives them to her and she curls up against him. You snort. “Oh, I see how it is, Gretch. You see a cute boy and suddenly you’re well behaved?”

Nico looks up from where he’s crouched to pet Gretchen. “You think I’m cute?” Oh. Shit. You just glare at him as he smirks, nodding at your bags. “What else are you putting in the basket?”

“A bunch of soaps, a really fluffy bathrobe one of our other coworkers found on Amazon, some candles, these facemasks I ordered from Korea…all the good stuff.”

He watches as you take out the empty basket, some wrapping paper, and a few colorful ribbons. You honestly don’t consider yourself very crafty, but after doing a few gift boxes like this in your life, this is something that you pride yourself in doing decently well.

“Can you reach into the drawer across from the sink and hand me the scissors, please?” You ask. Nico abides, sliding the scissors across the counter.

“I think the same, by the way.”

You blink, measuring out the length of the ribbons correctly. “Hm?”

“I think you’re cute too.”

It takes all your control to cut the ribbon carefully before looking up at him. You see him swallow, confident with a hint of hesitation. You look down and try to steady your hands. “Well, depending on how good you are at cutting wrapping paper, I might have to keep you around.”

“Helping you out with dinner that night wasn’t enough?”

“The real test is seeing if you know how to wrap gifts.”

“I don’t.”

You can’t help but snort. “Figures.”

“So, what?” You look up to see Nico giving you a look that makes your stomach flip. He tilts his head to the side, trying to find something in your face. You’re not sure what. “You’re gonna kick me out?”

One side of your lips quirk up as Gretchen barks. “I guess I’ll keep you around.”

*****

You and Nico become fast friends. To be honest, it’s not like you see each other all the time, with your normal work schedule and his abnormal one. But more often than not, when Nico asks if you’re around, you usually are. It starts with more homecooked dinners, which turns into trying new restaurants because it’s more reasonable to go with someone else so you can order more at a time, which turns into you seeing some new event happening or shop opening up and thumbing over to your text thread with him asking him if he wants to join. Nine times out of ten, unless he’s on a road trip, he’s free.

Sometimes Jack and Luke join. Most times they don’t. You’re not offended. Jack and Luke are a bit younger and have their own friends. They remind you of your younger cousins.

The thing is, you just enjoy Nico’s company. You learn about his goals, his insecurities, the things that bring him joy. He’s kind, considerate and so incredibly interesting. You feel so comfortable around him, whether you’re yapping away about childhood stories or in silence walking around the streets of Newark.

When you finally take up your neighbors’ offer to go to a Devils game after many nagging texts for the Hughes brothers, Nico knocks on your door within minutes, unexpectedly pulling you into a tight hug. You’re taken aback, but his dimpled smile is worth it.

You take one of your closest friends and have a wonderful time. You’re not much of a hockey fan, but your friend is, happy to talk you through icings and delayed penalties and offsides. Your eyes track 43 and 86 as your friend raves about the “Hughes skating.” But most of the time, you’re eyeing the one with the 13 and the C, who takes a deep breath before every face off.

For your first game, it’s a fun one, a nail biter that ends in a 4-2 win against the Minnesota Wild. You shoot Jack, Luke and Nico all a text congratulating them on a good game.

It’s when you’re in bed that night do you really thumb through their replies, Nico’s simple heart emoji making you fall asleep with a smile.

*****

Besides being a nice person, you also consider yourself to have a decent memory.

Until there’s a knock on your door that has you confused. You put down your tea, petting Moose, the dalmatian you’ve been looking after recently, as you walk to the door.

Nico looks so cozy, a black Kith sweatshirt with a beanie over his hair. He blinks at you. You blink back.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, amused even if a bit confused. “What’s up? Did we have plans tonight?”

“No, well, not pre-planned.” Nico bends down to pet Moose, who he met yesterday when you guys went to a new coffee shop. “You busy?”

“And what if I was?”

“You’d cancel for me anyways,” he teases.

And the thing is, he’s right. You sigh playfully. “Fine. Gimme a few minutes to get dressed.”

Nico grabs the leash off the hook. “Moose is coming too.”

“Oh?”

He flicks his hand. “Go get dressed.”

“Bossy,” you comment, before walking to your bedroom.

It turns out your plans are a newly opened dog park that you’ve heard about but haven’t gotten the chance to check out. Moose is immediately excited, and your heart does something funny when you see Nico calm him down so he doesn’t run anyone over. Nico told you he hadn't grown up with dogs, but you wouldn’t know with how gentle he is with every dog you’ve fostered during your friendship thus far.

After playing with Moose for a bit, he collapses on the grass, allowing you and Nico to sit and also relax.

“You look happy.”

You turn to Nico with a smile. “I am.”

“Good. All I want is for you to be happy.”

You swallow and take a deep breath. “Nico.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you whisper. You swear the space between you both has decreased.

“Because what?”

You huff. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes fondly, staring down at the grass for a few seconds before looking into his eyes again. “You can’t say things like that because then you’ll make me believe that I have a chance to be with you. To be more than friends.”

“And why is that so hard to believe?”

What?

“What?” You ask.

“Is it such a hard thing to believe?” Nico asks gently. His cologne is filling your senses now and you’re so overwhelmed. “The chance to be with you would be an honor.”

“Nico.”

“What?”

“You’re fucking with me.”

He chuckles, “I’m not.” He leans in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek and you kinda wanna die. “So, what do you say? Wanna give it a shot?”

“Are you sure?”

“Never been sure of anything more in my life.” His confidence is back and it makes you wanna kiss him silly.

You take his hand and squeeze it in yours. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, yeah. Let’s give it a shot. On one condition though.”

“Anything.”

“You’re helping me with all these dogs. I still don’t know how you got Gretchen to like you. She barely liked me.”

Nico laughs loudly. It makes you grin. “What can I say? I must be special.”

You bite your lip. Yeah. He really is.

You watch as Moose suddenly has energy again and trots between you two, licking Nico’s face. He scrunches his nose in delight and you feel like the sun is suddenly shining brighter.

#k writes #luck of the puck fic exchange #nico hischier #devils #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fic #nhl #nhl blurb #nico hischier blurb #nhl fanfiction #nico hischier x you #hockey writing #nhl writing #hockey blurb

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cloveroctobers · 9 months

Text

DECEMBER PROMPTS 🧊 — 2. EVAN BUCKLEY

A/N: spoke it into existence and we get to see the 118 in just a few months! Too excited but disappointed about station 19. Anyways…here’s something fun??? and a little more my speed for the holidays.

PROMPT IS FROM HERE + I’m using: 20.) Caught Under the Mistletoe (teasing, shy, “It’s tradition”)

Synopsis: in which a moody reader wishes they could spend the holidays elsewhere and away from “the most wonderful time of the year,”…until Buck decides to walk through their childhood home.

WARNINGS: reader isn’t a Christmas lover by any means + going through a breakup—10 points for you if you can place the connection, language, family resentment & use of y/n + also gender-neutral friendly!

*GIF BELONGS TO @fireladybuckley !!!

❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩

There were a combination of things that irritated you and Christmas happened to be one of them. Your family was one of those families that happened to be obsessed with Christmas and any sort of gathering, always have been and probably always will be—until they leave this earth. They were the neighbors that were welcoming to any and everyone and encouraged people to come on over with any shindig they threw. Unfortunately for you, you got stuck with attending this Christmas gathering because you moved back to Rhode Island right after you quit being a firefighter.

It was still a topic of many gossiping conversations with your mom’s “good friend,” deciding to bring it up in the living room, “y/n, do you ever want to be married? When are you going to start having a family of your own? Surely you must have found someone in sunny LA?”

Little did she know you did and in Chicago. You were surprised your mother took your boundaries into consideration when sharing certain information to her good friend…or did she know and was simply trying to get a rise out of you? Miriam was “good” at doing that.

You never liked Miriam, sorry not sorry. Mainly because she always had a opinion and liked to compare you to your older siblings. Your older brother was finally engaged to his long time girlfriend who had a face of a model, worked for a successful tech company, while also being a composer on the side and always had a good head on his shoulders. Then the middle child, your older sister was pregnant with twins and recently stepped down from being a pilot after almost fifteen years; was always the charmer and “favorite” according to friends of the family.

“I’ll start as soon as you stop scamming the elderly into marrying you so you can collect a check after they pass,” you smiled sweetly at Miriam, who’s mouth dropped and your older sister fought back a snicker from beside you in the sitting room, “I’m going to get a refill.”

You were just thankful your mother wasn’t near to hear this but you were sure with the snitch she called a best friend, she would repeat it and you would get a earful at some point tonight. Nonetheless you received a wink from your god-father and dad’s best friend up ahead, who was the designated pianist of the night and just finished up a tune by Nat King Cole.

Judah, your godfather was always lending a ear to listen since you were young and it seemed to still be the same sentiment more than your own parents but! That’s a different story for another day. You had to relish in the overload of wreaths that decorated every cabinet in your childhood kitchen, lightly scoffing and shaking your head as you filled up the flute with more champagne.

Sure you didn’t want to spend the holidays sulking but it only seemed to kick in more once people always felt the need to butt into your life. They didn’t speak on your accomplishments because it was never deemed as good enough, it was always a rule to follow into your family’s footsteps. Your mom’s a respectable elementary school teacher who hosts book clubs on Sunday’s with once strangers turned friends, your dad builds sailboats and is heavy involved in charity work and not just to say he did it but because of his own tough upbringing, your brother’s traveling all over the world due to his craft of being a composer and is so in love with his soon to be wife Alani, who’s also involved in building medical centers for poor communities—not just on her native land of Hawaii but countries as well, and your sister always knows just what to say to any and everyone, she’s so likable and building her family with a great guy, who isn’t just putting on for the cameras since he happens to be a well-known athlete.

Then there’s you…the sibling that’s just floating through life at thirty-one years old. Back at home with their parents after giving up a job that you thought you saw yourself doing up until retirement. Your head’s always been in the clouds but when your eyes were set on something you weren’t ever afraid to give it a try. Thats exactly what you did choosing to go to the academy out in California and worked your ass off to be a firefighter. You weren’t a fan of what people said after your severe injury…you just wanted to move on and always felt like you would be a firefighter at heart no matter what.

Most didn’t get that and it wasn’t okay with you but that didn’t stop you from putting one finger in the air.

Life will always lead you places and Rhode Island wasn’t your first choice but it was your best choice with the way the world shifts. Which is why you just wanted to get this holiday over with so it didn’t feel like you were constantly sinking from the inside out. The pretty lights, delicious eats, spending time with family, and finding joy was supposed to be a given but instead you were just ready to kick this year to the fucking curb for good.

If anyone asked you, New Years was way better because you can always start over especially if the year prior was not it for you. However one good thing came out of this year, you were one step closer to getting that home in New Mexico.

It took drumming on the counter to bring you out of your thoughts, making you snap your eyes at your brother who had a wicked grin on his round face. After pulling a face, you side eyed him, “what, Marcus?”

“Is that anyway to talk to your big brother?” He leaned against the counter, at pure ease.

Sipping at the flute, the bubbly went down nicely before you popped your tongue at the after taste then you responded, “what did you do?”

The thirty-seven year old sighs, “I didn’t do anything but you might want to send that energy to Larissa.”

Quickly glancing over your shoulder, you craned your neck to see back into the sitting room but couldn’t see your very pregnant sister anywhere. Shrugging your shoulders you turn back to the amusement on your brother’s face, “I don’t see her anywhere, so stop with the games and just spill.”

The both of you turned to the new voice that enters the kitchen from the left, “There you are! Look who I’ve found outside.”

If there was one person you wanted to push into the fireplace, now make it two, meaning you adding your sister to that list. Your eyes burned into her pretty beaming smile as she lightly jabbed a thumb in Evan Buckley’s direction. From behind them you spotted your brother-in-law, Kheri ready to enter the kitchen from the same opposite end but abruptly stopped as he easily picked up on what was happening and spun back around, hoping not to be seen by Larissa.

“Uh hey, y/n.” Evan awkwardly waved in your direction before you clenched your eyes shut and deeply exhaled.

Marcus whispers from your right, “that’s what.”

“I got it, Mark.” You hissed while he raised his hands in surrender, letting out a low whistle that sounded just perfect.

Evan glanced back and forth between the siblings, frowning, “I’m getting the sense that you were blindsided about me coming.”

A cackle bubbled past your lips while Larissa bounced on her toes, “I may have forgotten to mention it but when a party is going on…you just get wrapped up in so many other things.”

Evan nodded his head at this but he didn’t entirely believe that.

“Bullshit,” Marcus coughed out before smiling at Evan.

Larissa added, “I thought that you would be happy to see a friendly face here, y/n. I mean—you hate everyone else so…voila! You’re welcome.”

You declared, “If you weren’t pregnant with my nephews, I might just beat your ass to sleep with a lump of coal.”

“Hot coal or cold?” Larissa hummed, tapping her dimpled chin.

You scoffed, “I’d let you pick bitch.”

“How sweet,” Larissa winked as she turned back to pat Evan on the shoulder, “as you can see, this is a loving household and you’re only going to make it better for my dear sibling. So thank you so much for coming, Evan Buckley.”

Evan tilted his head to the side at this whole interaction, breathing out a laugh, “well…you kinda bullied me to so…”

“Oh is that how the conversation went down?” Marcus shoved some chips into his mouth, ignoring the glare you sent him.

“But,” Evan added, “I wanted to be here, it was the right thing to do and I missed you guys. Not really the east coast since it’s pretty damn cold here, man i keep forgetting that but it’s always nice to see a white Christmas and some faces that feel like home you know?”

Larissa placed her hand on her chest, “now wasn’t that beautiful, y/n?”

“So beautiful that I almost want to vomit on you, Larissa.” You coo at the Bob-wearing woman while Marcus continues watching this match.

Larissa scowled, “stop being a Scrooge and just be glad that Otis was busy.”

*Jazz music stops playing*

“What?” You gritted at the mention of your recent breakup.

Flights out to Chicago tended to get pricer and tricker during the whole pandemic but lucky for you, you managed your money much better now.

“Wrong thing to say,” Marcus mumbles, seeming to be the only one in the room that was aware that this was a touchy subject.

Swallowing you turned to the eldest in the room, “Did you know about that too, Mark?”

Marcus sighs, “I was there for that conversation yes…but I didn’t think Rissa was serious about Buckley after the call with Otis didn’t exactly work out.”

You couldn’t grasp why they—Larissa would think it would be okay to go behind your back and call Otis in the first place?!

“Is this what you’re gonna be like now, Ris? Trying to mold my love life and be in my business because you’re too bored with motherhood?” You snapped at the thirty-five year old who looked taken aback.

Larissa slowly speaks, “woow! That was kinda hurtful…I was just trying to do something nice because you always get like this around this time of the year and I figured a person you deeply adore would cheer you up but obviously I was wrong.”

Deeply adore felt like another stab to you.

Holding your hands out, you say enough just by that action which makes Larissa roll her eyes. She turns to the sea eye colored man and says, “Good luck with that one, the sticks pretty far up their ass this evening.”

Laughing to yourself, you don’t bother watching your sister leave the kitchen and turn back to the fridge in search of the desserts instead.

“Well…that was not as entertaining as I would have liked but you know that comment wasn’t cool right?” Marcus says while you send him a middle finger from inside the fridge, “noted but you better be over this damn attitude by the morning.”

Here you are in your thirties and you still had your brother thinking he can boss you around.

He says a few words to Buck and once the coast is clear, you spin back around to place the fruitcake on the large island counter. Just staring at the dessert makes you further nauseous and you motion with your eyes, “want a slice?”

“…only if you’ll join me?” Evan sucks air through his teeth, trying to put on a smile although it was more of a grimace.

You snicker, “don’t say what you think I want to hear. I wouldn’t feed this to Dudley.”

Evan begins to look around at the mention of the old bloodhound, “no way! He’s still alive?”

“Very much and probably sticking up the house somewhere away from everyone,” you laugh at the thought of the gassy dog as you pick up the cake, analyzing it in disgust before making your way to the garbage.

Evan nodded, “Ah so like it’s owner?”

“Watch it Buckley,” you wag a finger at him, “you just got here and you’re already talking shit to me?”

“I thought that’s what friends are for?” He shows off his laughter lines before taking a seat on one of the the bar stools, while you glanced at the flute and expensive champagne bottle before choosing the bottle it’s self, “…I would ask how’ve you been but I don’t know what kind of answer I’m going to get.”

Shrugging your shoulders you take a swing from the bottle and go into a two step as, “Holly Jolly Christmas,” beings to play making Buck shake his head at you playfully, “just jolly can’t you tell? I mean we haven’t spoken in months since I left LA—

“Right,” Buck agreed, “I wanted to give you some space and I thought I was being a good friend giving you that, although there were plenty of times where I just wanted to hear your voice.”

You snort, “don’t get mushy on me, Ev.”

Evan sighs, “and you ghosted me a few times.”

“Out of the respect of your relationship with Taylor—

“You didn’t even like Taylor or Abby?” Evan frowns, “and that was before we decided to give each other a try and with you debating about quitting after what happened at the parking garage.”

Long story short: you were at the 118 six months before Evan Buckley ends up walking through the doors. At the beginning you had everyone fooled with the way you gave him the cold shoulder in the beginning, as if your mothers weren’t the best of friends and you didn’t alternate summers between Rhode Island and Pennsylvania. You were forced to be friends but it’s not ever something you truly regretted. It’s like Toy Story, you had a friend in Buck and that was something you were thankful for. The both of you bonded over just being in the moment and while he was more impulsive than you, you found your footing just a bit earlier than he did.

You went to California as soon as you reached eighteen and fell in love with it that you didn’t ever want to come back. You didnt have dreams of being a firefighter but you were always passionate about having a positive impact on someone’s lives and fighting fires didn’t sound so bad. By the time you came back after visiting and being forced to go to the community college for half a semester, you withdrew and left without a word. It took a shared phone call from Buck and Maddie to get you to answer, with Maddie pleading with you just to call your parents whereas Buck encouraged you to keep going.

Shortly after, he was traveling around the world and sending you postcards too. Evan was always just your friend that you spent summers with then holidays and then birthdays to speaking on AIM if not every day then every other day. It was clear that the both of you were meant to be in each others lives…until you made the terrible decision to catch feelings. Out of all of the years that you’ve known this guy, you just had to feel a way—despite him fooling around on the job, which you tore into him more than bobby did. From random hook ups to potentially serious relationships—that you never agreed with, you just had to do it and you were stubborn and fought it for so long.

Having your face almost crushed by concrete would do it to you. You didn’t know if you were going to make it, that was your real taste of death—although you got hurt on the job before this was the one that really had you questioning everything. The team outside of the parking garage tried to keep Buck from getting to you but if there’s a will, there’s a way. You tried to blame it on the partially crushed skull once Buck brought it back up at not the best timing—after physical therapy but he was firm and stood on the words shared.

He broke up with Taylor, you told him to give it time and if he truly still felt the same months later, you’d give it a go. He respected that and once you were back to normal as you can be, it happened and it was short lived because you didn’t take the topic of marriage with him seriously. And it had nothing to do with what he thought.

Evan Buckley was always good enough, if not more.

“It was better getting used to the idea of not being in each others lives.” Was what you went with.

Evan pressed his arms onto the counter, “what do you mean?”

Sipping from the bottle again you state, “you must have felt the same way I felt when I got the news that you were struck. Like time is only temporary. We’ve known each other since we were what? Fourteen-fifteen? And sure that feels like forever but it really just means it starts over.”

Evan stares at you from underneath his eyelashes, “so…declining our friendship was the better answer for you?”

“Oh I’d think we’d always be friends…even if there’s distance.”

“That you created.” Evan points out, “I didn’t think you believed in alternate universes.”

You swallow, “I didn’t, until you told me what it was like in that coma.”

“Then you left…to be with Otis.” Evan fills in the blanks while wiggling his eyebrows which makes you scoff, “want to talk about it?”

You blink, “I just told my sister to mind her business…do you want me to deliver the same thing? Let’s catch up and focus on you…I’m surprised you’re not in PA.”

“I let Maddie and chim deal with that.” Evan says, “Christmas Eve was enough for me and poor Jee, I should have taken her with me.”

Resting your chin against the palm of your hand you say, “that bad huh?”

“Ah the usual. You know how parents can be,” Evan chats, “they’re really pushing to meet Natalia.”

Squinting you try to recall the name as Evan informs, “right…uh someone I met on the scene. She’s a death doula.”

“A what?”

“Someone who helps people who are facing death find peace with it. Like the good version of what a hospice is supposed to be.” Buck tells, coming to terms that there has been gaps in what they should know, yet this was what you wanted apparently.

Tapping against the glass you say, “and she’s your…girlfriend?”

“Well, yeah.” Buck smiles a bit while you hum, taking a swing from the bottle, “what was that response?”

You shrug, “just surprised your parents would want to meet her…does Maddie like her?”

“She doesn’t not not like her.” Evan frowned.

“How long have you been dating?”

“Not long…uh what’re you getting at?”

“Look, I don’t know her and I’m not going to further rain on anybody’s parade but just be careful. Take your time you know?”

Evan scratches at his birth mark above his brow and huffs, “thought you were a big believer in time not lasting forever and starting over…That’s what I’m doing.”

Nodding your head you say, “I’m not judging you.”

“Good because my plan wasn’t to argue with you here at your childhood home in the kitchen on Christmas.” Buck tells as he takes in the decor, “We can hash anything else out at a later date because it’s the most wonderful time of the year right? I’m here until the 31st by the way.”

“When exactly did you drop in?”

“The 21st.”

“Oh you’re staying for awhile.”

“I think I should.” He waved his hand for the bottle which he takes a swing at and lets out a deep burp, excusing himself with a grin after you scrunch up your nose.

Snatching the bottle back you leave it unattended as you peek through the trays of food, thinking about another round since the preview of desserts were lackluster.

“Huh,” Buck says now peering above his head, “when did that get up there?”

Turning you attention back to a old friend in the maroon sweater, you follow his gaze to the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above his head. “Which one of your siblings pulled this one?”

“Don’t think that was their doing honestly,” you reputed, “feels very traditional and something my dad would do.”

Evan thinks about it and seems to agree, remembering how affectionate the man tended to be back then. “Well…it’s tradition and we shouldn’t break it.”

“Don’t know if you notice Ev, I thought the all black attire would be a giveaway but I simply do not care about this holiday.”

“I’ve noticed—

“And didn’t you just say you have a girlfriend? I can kiss anybody else and tend to very soon.” You almost went into a daydream state of the all the possible contenders you’d lock lips with in just a few days.

“True but who are you going to find that’s as gorgeous as me?” Buck challenged as he placed a hand on his chest.

“Did Eddie fly in with you guys?”

“That’s not funny.”

“So you cross the line at your work husband but not nat the death doula?” You quizzed the tousled haired man.

“Why are you giving her a whole title like that?”

“It’s Natalia’s profession…?”

“Yeah but nobody calls you: y/n the retired firefighter turned air traffic controller.”

“You don’t know that and you just did.”

Buck felt his eye twitch, “I was giving an example!”

“Hey, inside voices! The singing and music is loud enough. Not to mention the carolers that will be here by eight and will probably give me nightmares tonight—

Evan shakes his head, “no I don’t think you understand. We have to kiss or else it’s going to bring bad luck in our love lives for who knows how long and I could really use a consistent love and what better person to do that with than you.”

One thing about Buck, he was a thousand percent superstitious but that wouldn’t stop you from poking fun.

“Evan Matthias Buckley…are you flirting with me?” You tease as you caress the counter while slowly make your way around the island.

The man appears almost shy now as you grip his face, taking in the features you’ve come to known and appreciate. Evan was still him regardless of the miles you put in between each other. With his hands now on your waist you enjoyed the moment because face it, it was always nice to be held, so you stared into his eyes for a moment and then his tulip tinted lips.

Lips that you didn’t mind on yours or anywhere on your body once upon a time…until you self sabotaged. You could have married evan and would have in a heartbeat but you also felt marriage wasn’t for you. You didn’t want to fuck that up just like you did everything else.

And that wasn’t really true, that’s just the bad parts of your brain getting in the way but you were working it out in therapy. However a smile was on your lips now that you pressed your forehead to the man that’s seen all sides to you before and you could have sworn Evan was holding his breath, just wondering how this would work.

Yet he was the one insisting that they share a kiss!

Caressing the scruff that was along his jaw, you lightly pinched his face, holding him in place as you put a lingering kiss right beside the corner of his lips. The deflation was evident and you didn’t know whether to take that as relief or disappointment but Evan pulled you into a hug filled with warmth anyway.

Which you welcomed, arms locked around his broad shoulders before resting a hand on the back of his head. He squeezed you just right and if you wanted to be in your soft era tonight, you may have shed a tear but pushing that to the side felt better for now. It’s been awhile but you didn’t want to cross that line especially if things were serious with Natalia.

Evan didn’t know about Otis or how you were battling moving on from that but he’ll take what he can get from you. Whenever you were ready then he’d always be around and that’s something he wanted to remind you of but being here with you on this holiday—even if you were being a complete grinch about it! felt like he made the right decision.

“You know Ev Bev,” you started as you pulled back but kept your hands locked around his shoulders, “has anyone ever told you that you reek of spruce?

Evan blinks, “no one’s ever told me I smell like a tree before…but considering the job? I’m not offended.”

“Well I am. You’re supposed to boycott all things Christmas with me if you still consider yourself my bestie,” you shook your head in sorrow.

You’re ready to untangle yourself but Evan just tightens his arms around you, leaning forward to get a whiff of you, “and you smell like fruitcake.”

Faux gagging gets Evan to widen his eyes and loosen his grip, “don’t make me sick—

“I think that’s enough champagne for you.”

“You’re right, it has my toes buzzing but I can definitely go for something stronger which my parents don’t have but I’ll sneak out before the Carolers get here to get some.”

“Or…you can find the true beauty in Christmas that doesn’t have anything to do with alcohol.” Evan offered while you gave him a unimpressed stare, “maybe next year then?”

“Oh I plan to as soon as the new year hits and I get some answers.” You unravel yourself from him and move to take a seat on the other velvet stool.

Evan holds his hands out, “…care to elaborate?”

“Sure, why the hell not? After spending too much time here and becoming financially stable, I’ve finally decided to buy a house.” You give jazz hands.

“That’s fantastic news!” Evan perks up, “Wait…does anybody else know?”

“Nope, just you my friend.” You sigh, “I should know if they accepted my offer by the 29th the realtor says but can expect some delays based on the stupid holidays so…fingers crossed.”

Evan snickers, “then that’s something to celebrate and I’m sure your family will be happy for you.”

“Maybe, maybe not. My decisions are always based on selfishness apparently.” You fold your hands, “I know the first thing that’s going to be said and then comes the guilt tripping but I don’t want to be in this place anymore. I’ve been here a good portion of my life and had to come back because the world decided to go apocalyptic. I’m tired of feeling stuck and New Mexico can be the freedom I’ve always been searching for.”

Evan took in your words carefully. He knew you weren’t always this down but stepping away as a firefighter definitely triggered that and the old childhood insecurities resurfaced living here again although you tried to bury them. He’s been around the world while your family tried to keep you sheltered—even into your adulthood, you were always the one who wanted something different than them. Evan saw that the first day he met you and instantly took a liking to you, although it took more convincing on your end. New Mexico was far from Rhode Island but not too bad from Los Angeles.

“It will be and we’ll make the best of it.” Evan squeezed the tension from between your shoulder blades.

Looking at him you echo, “we?”

“Do you really think you can keep hiding from me? Now that you let me back in, you’re not getting rid of me again.” Evan grinned in excitement while you groaned, “We have a house to plan for, like when’s the expected move in date when you’re approved?”

You shrugged, “realtor man Danny didn’t tell me that exactly but if I had to guess, probably sometime in February.”

“That works,” Evan nods, “if it falls around Maddie’s birthday I might just suggest New Mexico.” He winks at you while you scoff.

“Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun? Who’s to say I’d even give you my address?”

Despite saying this you knew Buck would always find a way and it’s not something you were truly against. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss seeing him around but ultimately that was your choice.

“Ouch, that’s no way to treat the guy that’s had your back since we were kids and is about to make you a mean peppermint mocha.” Evan says in a sing song tone as he drums on the table before sliding down from the chair.

Tilting your head at the thought you reply, “will it be spiked?”

Evan shakes his head as he makes his way over to the espresso machine, “I’m trying to save your liver so that’ll be a negative.”

“Boooo! Buck sucks more than Santa! Tomato, tomato.” You gave a thumbs down as Evan chuckles to himself.

Buck was attempting to bring you holiday cheer, you could feel yourself sort of exhaling as you watched him move around the kitchen. Whenever Evan was around, it usually felt like putting the negative on pause because you tended to forget about it for awhile thanks to his infectious spirit.

“Are you two playing nice?” The voice of your brother, Mark fills the room as he enters the kitchen once more and now holding the hand of his fiancée, Alani who teasingly scrunches her nose up with a smile at you two.

Throwing your head back, you sigh, “as nice as I can be, Marcus.”

“That’s not saying much,” he goes to elbow Buck jokingly, who nods with a shrug.

Alani takes the seat beside you, “so…what we really want to know is, did you guys share a kiss and decide to fall deeply in love with each other?”

“Lani!” Marcus warns while the curly haired woman lifts her shoulders.

You laugh, “and this is why I’ve always liked you Lanz, you’re never on any bullshit, unlike Mark and Ris.”

“Yikes, I’m not touching that one.” Alani reached for the champagne bottle.

“You may have actually made her cry by the way,” Marcus announces making Evan peer at you over his shoulder.

Turning your eyes into slits you question, “made who cry?”

“Larissa.”

You huff, “she pissed me off.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have to attack her motherhood which she has yet to really experience…” Marcus states and you take a breath.

You knew that comment was harsh but you never lacked a back bone. When anyone got on your nerves, you were going to tell them and didn’t care who they were or where you were. It’s a defense mechanism and yes that was something else you were working on.

“I’ll make up with her after I get into this spiked peppermint mocha.” You grinned in content.

Evan corrects, “how many times do I have to tell you, it’s not spiked?”

“Until you change your mind, sugar plum.”

“Yuck,” Marcus laughs while Alani smirks.

Sooner than later, Buck is handing out four cups of peppermint mocha and crouches over the counter beside you as you all take in the festive drink while, “Deck the halls,” starts to play for the sixth time this evening. Normally you would be considering sticking your head inside of the oven or making your severe allergic reaction act up by eating a gingerbread cookie just so you could get out of listening to this boring music but somehow you tune it out.

Physical touch was how Buck liked to be loved so you didn’t think much of it as you looped a hand around the crease of his arm. acts of service was how he gave love. He glanced over at you while you listened to whatever your brother was blabbing about and when you caught his stare, you thought to yourself, maybe reconnections should have been on your wishlist.

A tender peppermint kiss to your temple was enough to solidify that and this time? You fought the urge to playfully smack Evan’s scruffy jaw to get off you and allowed the affection from the man you knew for years.

You let the love soak in, as cheesy as it sounds but isn’t that what Christmas is all about?

Who really knows?

You’re more of a New Year’s Eve lover anyway…

❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩

Check back for my ~5 days of Xmas~ anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #queued #911 #911 abc #911 fox #Evan Buckley #evan buck buckely #Evan Buckley x reader #buck x reader #December prompts #Christmas prompts #Oliver stark #maddie buckley #howard chimney han #Eddie diaz #bobby nash

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nekatto · 9 months

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Given that this is my first adoption advert, I decided to go with something basic… Basic white girl basic.

Without further ado, I present you the MeowBucks baristas: Madeleine, Mary Jane, Fontina the Big Cheese, My Little Pierogi, Gruyère, Bordeaux, and Artemis.

Accepting applications from residents of South Carolina and neighboring states only.

Bios for each cat as well as a link to the adoption form are under the cut.

logo (c) wafflestash on Etsy, used here with their written permission.

If you can’t adopt, but would like to support us, I have a cashapp ($kpao69) and PayPal ([email protected]). I’m an independent foster and all food, litter, and vetting is paid for out of pocket. Any help is appreciated.

ADOPTION APPLICATION:

Adoption fee is $85

MADELEINE || SPAYED FEMALE

10/10 but she bamboozled me.

The one who started it all. I was walking my dog when this sweet mama approached me and meowed sadly at me. From that moment on, she had me hook, line, and sinker, and I ended up returning to the spot I met her and started feeding her, quickly gaining her trust and bringing her inside… Along with her seven relatives she had hidden in the bushes.

Despite being the grandma of the family, I believe she’s still a fairly young cat, possibly around three years old or so. Since her spay surgery, it’s almost like she’s trying to make up for the kittenhood she never got to have. She loves nothing more than batting toy mice across the floor and playing chase with her granddaughter Pierogi. When not zooming around, Madds is quite the cuddle bug and loves a warm lap to lay in.

MARY JANE | SPAYED FEMALE, ~3 yrs old

Mother of Fontina, Gruyère, and Pierogi. Now that her kittens are grown, Mary Jane is beyond done with wild kitten antics and looking for some place calm and quiet to settle down.

All in all a pretty chill cat, though not particularly social. Out of her relatives, she most prefers to spend time with her daughter Gruyère.

FONTINA THE BIG CHEESE | NEUTERED MALE, ~1 yr old

They say the key to a man’s heart is food, and that’s doubly true for Fontina! While he can be shy at times, add food to equation and he’s putty in your hands.

He’ll do just about anything for food and so far has even trained himself to go inside his carrier on command. Would make an excellent trick training candidate.

Ideally would prefer a home with his best friend and wrestling buddy, Bordeaux.

**Fontina has displayed a propensity for eating non-food items. Please be mindful of this and take appropriate precautions.

MY LITTLE PIEROGI | SPAYED FEMALE, ~1 yr old

When she first came here, Pierogi was a bit shaken by the overnight transition from living outside to living in a home and spent her first few days inside hiding. But now she’s come out of her shell and blossomed into the sweetest little girl, albeit still on the shy side. Loves churu, head-butting feet, and playing with wand toys.

**tentative. if no applications look promising I miiiight end up keeping her.

GRUYÈRE | SPAYED FEMALE, ~1 yr old

No, you’re not seeing double, though very different in personality, Fontina and Gruyère are our loveable void twins!

The princess of the group. Gruyère demands you provide her with your undivided attention at all times… or else.

Out of her siblings, she has the closest relationship with her mother, Mary Jane, and the mother-daughter pair can often be found grooming one another.

**though she’s never broken skin, Gruyère can be mouthy, and we'd recommend applying for a different cat if you have young children or elderly people in your home.

BORDEAUX | NEUTERED MALE, ~1 yr old

Sweet little Bordeaux had a very rough start to life. At just a few weeks old, Bordeaux lost both of his siblings and was briefly separated from his mom during a particularly nasty winter rainstorm. It was only through a stroke of luck (and his cries) he was found before it was too late.

But none of that has dampened his spirit! As you can undoubtedly see, Bordeaux is a silly young man who loves having fun.

Without fail, he turns everything into a game. You thought you were going to mop the floor? Nope! Time to play wrestle the mop away from the kitten for the thousandth time!

10/10 but you’ll never get anything done with home around. But with a kitten this cute, who can stay mad?

When he’s not being a menace to society, he can be found palling around with his best friend and brother from another mother, Fontina.

ARTEMIS | NEUTERED MALE, ~2.5 YRS OLD

The odd one out of the bunch. I’m unsure how, or even if, he’s related to the rest of the colony. All we know is that he was buddies with the other adult male of the group, Apollo, and they could often be found huddled up together for warmth.

Artemis is a sweet boy who wants very much to be someone’s one and only. Always the first to greet me when I come in. And don’t think he’s content with a simple pat on the head. He DEMANDS all the love and snuggles. Like, I’ll sit down to relax and next thing I know he’s climbing up on my shoulder and nuzzling me.

*would prefer a home with no other cats.

**Apollo will be going up for adoption separately as he needs to have a specialist vet preform his neuter due to some neurological issues.

#catblr #cats of tumblr #indoor cats #rescue cats #fosteringsaveslives #adopt or shop responsibly

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year

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AITA For basically giving up on my cat?

It's been a few years and I actually have gotten minor trauma from this event. But when I graduated high school my dad came back one day with a gift for me: a little kitten. I loved him so much he became my emotional support animal and he naturally would help me come down from psychosis episodes and anxiety/panic attacks. He was my life. A few years ago, my mom moved out of our apartment and displaced me and my partner. We were technically homeless. My grandmother pushed me into staying with her and my partner stayed with his family. I had 2 cats at the time (one elderly and one my esa) but My grandmother hates cats and said she'd kill them if I brought them with me. So they went with my partner. Then my partners family became homeless after they got evicted because the new landlord wanted new tenants. They didn't do anything wrong, he literally just said, "I want to see new faces and start fresh" so he kicked them out. So I asked a friend of my mom if she could watch my cats. She said yes, but my esa didn't get along with her other cat, so she asked a neighbor to watch him while I figured out something. Two of my friends were moving in together and said, "hey we can take your cats with us that way they have a place to stay where you can see them whenever you want" cuz we literally have a key to their apartment and are allowed to go over whenever for whatever reason. So I talked to my mom's friend and she said "yeah you can take your (elderly) cat back" and no problem. Then she had me message her neighbor to get my ESA back. The neighbor said "no. I found some knots and mats in his fur, which means you're clearly neglecting him so I gave him to my grandson. If you try and take the cat back I'm calling the ASPCA and you'll never be allowed to have a pet ever again". Prior to him going over to there, I had previously actually shaved/trimmed him so I KNOW he didn't have knots/mats. If he did it was because SHE neglected him when he was in her care. Despite the fact that I gave her his entire grooming kit. I even told her, "he's a longhair you need to brush him every day and every few weeks you need to trim him" and she agreed to it. Clearly she never did it and blamed me instead. She said, "it's better he's with my grandson because my grandson is blind and ACTUALLY needs an ESA. you don't need an esa Just because you have anxiety". Readers, I have schizophrenia, autism, and adhd. Diagnosed. My doctor has my cat ON FILE as my ESA. I was at my two younger brothers birthday party, crying my eyes out. But to this day, I keep feeling this absolute guilt that I'm an awful person for not fighting to get my cat back. Last year that same lady texted me telling me I was a horrible pet owner for not even asking how he was doing and just giving up on him. I told her to never contact me ever again. I just thought what's the point? We're getting our own apartment soon but we were homeless for so long that at this point I feel like he probably has a better life now without me. But her saying I was an asshole for not fighting for him makes me cry at night still. I feel like a bad person. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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pcssionfrt · 10 months

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hi hello! name's juve and it's been idk how long since i've been on tumblr so Pardon Me if i make any mistakes. anyway here's riye, your new student representative for evolution! movement. pls see below the cut for a brief tldr on her among other things! also plsplspls smash that like for plots 🤩 !! my ims no longer work(?) so until tumblr decides to respond to my ticket please add me on disc it's @ obiiive

bounced from home to home since young, stability was not a concept known till the age of 10, where she was adopted (this time, for good), packed up and moved to seoul. suddenly—new kid on the block.

objectively, she should feel glad, should be grateful, blessed to have a home to call her own, allowed to keep her own identity, her surname, her things. subjectively, riye hated the neighborhood. hated her classmates. her teacher. elderly neighbor. nosy woman at the register in the local grocers. just about everybody—give or take two (specifically, her parents). though even that gradually morphed when her anomaly started rearing its head.

the kwons were ordinary. human. religion leaning. simple. dash of impulsiveness that had them adopting a child twenty years into their marriage. did they realize that they were signing on for more than they could handle? no. did they regret it? maybe no. when their adopted daughter showed signs of an anomaly, what else was there to do but to accept her? yeah. live in fear.

fractures begins somewhere in her teens, squeezed in between the conflicts of hormones and a growing body. her parents are different now. riye is different now. but the three live under pretenses all the same. that nothing’s changed, that mom’s hand doesn’t tremble when she braids her hair. it wasn’t as if they weren't nice either—so what is there for her to say? what else was she to do except loathe them and herself and the sanctified marble face of dear lord and father of mankind, i pray you help our daughter every friday evening and sunday morning.

sua was the obvious choice. riye doesn't bat an eye when they pitch it to her. when mom cries, overjoyed at the sight of nullivi. when dad hands her pamphlets to the neighborhood church. when they leave, she crumbles; the feeling in her chest full and hollow at the same time.

CAMPUS LIFE: ????? grossly wip sorry

PERSONALITY

chronic self-hating people pleaser. help me help you help her by not getting Too involved. very prone to switching up on people (i.e. saying yes then gaslighting you for making her say yes). has unaddressed anger issues but also bad abandonment issues, overall her parents raised her to be a sweet christian girl and riye will do everything in her power to emulate it till she implodes or smth. in short: nice but not very sincere.

WANTED

“the friends she shows her parents” — essentially nice looking non-threatening people that she hangs out with, documents in photos and name drops to show her parents. preferably with normie anomalies as to not spook them. riye has nothing against them, but there’s underlying disgust for anything associated to her parents (even if she’s the one putting them in the situation). note: often leaves group hangouts w/o saying bye. walks right by you on campus like she’s never seen you before. doesn’t bother remembering the big things but will remember little things (food preferences, allergies) so you’re ? does she or doesn’t she care /:

“the (ex) boyfriend she shows her parents” — the first and only boy she’s introduced to her parents. idk yall probably broke up a while back because of how much her parents loved you (and she did, also, some kind of l word you) and it gave her the ick. v likely did not tell her parents yall broke up. note: constantly, and i mean constantly, gaslighted you. Did apologize when she realized but yk, damage done is damage done.

overall: friends she actually likes, former friend/exes who thinks she’s fake af, exes/fwbs/the works. i preference deeper connects over shallow surface relationships and i’m down to write anything from dark and saucy to crack!

#intro.#finished it on mobile sorry if it looks wonky!

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lizrdsnot · 3 months

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so a few months ago while visiting my mom in the countryside she was telling me about how our eccentric elderly redneck neighbor down the road had built his own helicopter and had been taking it for spins. and i was like, ok that sure is something. surely this cannot end well

anyway

#rip vince you crazy son of a gun #he would show up to our door in nothing but daisy dukes to give us fresh vegetables from his garden #we adopted a dog from him that he didnt really take care of #rip britney you were a very good girl and the fartingest dog ever #bloge

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akindplace · 7 months

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i was going on a walk yesterday and found this place that had a line of trees planted, and on each of their trunks they put an orchid plant (the orchids grow on the trees but they are not parasites). on each of them there was also a sign reading “be careful when you steal the plants, you’re being filmed” (i had to translate this to english). and yes, there were cameras there. and it left me thinking by the way they phrased it that someone stole NOT JUST AN ORCHID FLOWER, but the WHOLE orchid PLANT?? roots, soil, everything?? and just carried it home?? so i told my mom about this ridiculous orchid stealing thing and she said someone stole a neighbor’s vase. and it’s not like it’s a tiny vase, so i was forced to imagine someone physically hugging a vase they stole from an elderly and carrying that heavy thing home?? which maybe is slightly easier to explain to people you live with saying “yeah i bought it on the way home” instead of having to explain why you’re carrying an orchid plant by the roots?? your hands are literally dirty. how do you explain that. do you stick it in your bag. but most importantly. what the fuck is wrong with you

#stealing whole ass plants from elderly neighbors is such a level of pettiness i will never understand #I don’t even know how to tag this #stealing cw #personal #things that happened while walking around

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curiositydooropened · 3 months

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Hell Hound • Teaser

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

Wordcount: 824

Warnings: unrequited love, slowburn, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, gore, weapons, fighting, death threats, stalker *See individual chapters for warnings.

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 • Fic Masterlist

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Moodboard • Chapter One [Coming Soon]

No, the city had never looked as beautiful to him as it had through your lens.

Steve said that to Robin once, and she wretched over the line and made him promise he’d never repeat it to you. He hadn’t, but he’d also never let one of your photos go un-complimented.

He enjoyed the roll of your eyes, the sink of your teeth into your bottom lip as you soaked in the praise and pretended to be shy, to be embarrassed, that you hated your craft.

“You know, we used to live in that apartment…” An elderly woman told you, bony hand clung to your forearm.

“Really? Which one?” You humored her.

“That one, just there, our first year of marriage,” the woman nodded. “Fifth floor.”

“Fourth floor!” Her husband corrected from your other side.

“It was the fifth floor, now don’t argue with me.”

“It was so romantic,” she clutched your hand to her chest.

“It was so annoying,” the husband grinned back at you.

Fed up with her husband’s antics, the woman shot him a rueful look. Then, she patted your hand and told you how lovely your work was before asking for the powder room.

When she’d been properly directed, her husband leaned to your ear and asked how much for the photo.

Steve lingered nearby, waiting for the transactional handshake before he stepped in. “Mind if I inquire about this piece?”

You sucked your cheeks between your teeth and sidled up beside him. His bicep tingled where your skin brushed. “What questions do you have about this one?”

“Where was it taken?”

You shot him a look, and he tried not to let the smile split his face. The photo you were currently staring at was a portrait of a mom and daughter looking at their reflection in The Bean.

“Amazing,” you sighed, the delight on your face swooping at his stomach.

“I thought he couldn’t make it,” you gasped, staring just past Steve’s shoulder and out the gallery’s front window.

“Harrington,” Eddie pushed his sunglasses through his curls, pupils blown, and flashed a wolfish grin.

“Thought you couldn’t make it.” Steve responded, glancing down alleyways for any paparazzi. He knew once Eddie was spotted in public, they’d come in droves.

“And miss this? Nah, wouldn’t dream of it, Sugar.”

“We should get inside,” Steve grit his teeth. “Don’t want to alert the paps.”

“Come on, Sugar,” Eddie dipped into a low bow to let you enter first. “Give me the grand tour.”

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[A/N: Yeah, I love him. I wrote this ages ago and I thought I hated it, turns out I love it and wrote like 5k yesterday and it's still going. So this is going to be another long one. I couldn't resist writing it though. Oh! And quick disclaimer: I've never been to Chicago. I'll try to be as non-specific about the city as possible, as to not get on anyone's nerves. It's really just about vibes, you know? Anyway thanks love you bye. xoxo]

#steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #bodyguard!steve harrington #rockstar!eddie munson #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #hell hound wip #hell hound fic

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lulubelle814 · 9 months

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All I Want

Masterlist

Annie didn’t mind going to birthday parties for the couple of friends she had or the ones her office threw monthly for those people whose birthday was during that month. Yes, they were typically loud and crowded, but she enjoyed being there for her friends. Her birthday? She’d rather forget it. With it being 3 days before Christmas, it was typically forgotten by everyone, except her parents who always made sure to send a birthday card with a little money and called to sing her happy birthday.

This year was different. Only a few months ago, her mother passed away, and her dad, Charlie, was never the same. He became inundated with hospital bills; however, friends and neighbors raised money to help pay for medical bills. Charlie was well loved in their little community. He was always the first to volunteer when someone needed help doing repairs, fixing a car, or even helping the elderly widow take her groceries inside. So when his wife passed, they all gathered to make sure he was taken care of. Annie did what she could, but she had her own bills and rent to pay, unable to spare much with money or time to help, and her dad understood. In fact, he refused any financial help she tried to give.

So here she was, wandering around her favorite bookstore. Seeing a book she’d been wanting to read, she purchased it as a birthday gift to herself and left. Rather than head home, a course was set for the Rockefeller tree and sat on a bench that had a great view of the tree and those ice skating nearby. Sitting there, she looked up at the stars and made a silent birthday wish. 'All I want is to not be alone, not on my birthday.'

“Are you alright, miss?” Looking forward, there was a familiar, handsome gentleman with a buttery British accent. It took her a second, but she realized it was Loki, the newly minted Avenger. He was taking a leisurely walk, going to see this enormous tree the Avengers told him about when he spotted her, crying a bit.

“I’m, uh, I’m alright.”

He smiled. “You do know I am the God of lies, correct?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. He gestured towards the empty spot next to her, wordlessly asking if he could join her to which she agreed.

“What makes you so despondent, my fair lady?”

She shook her head. “Nothing important.”

“Please let me be the judge of that.” He didn’t know her, but a part of him wanted to help her. “No one should be downhearted so near Christmas.”

“I’ll be okay. I’m sure you have things you need to be doing rather than console a stranger.”

He turned to look at the tree. “My, uh,co-workers told me of this tree. They told me it was large and fantastical. ‘A sight to behold’ they said. So I had to see it for myself.”

“It’s my favorite thing about Christmas in New York. I love looking at the lights, watching people ice skating, and everyone forgetting about their troubles, even if for a little while.”

“Everyone, it seems, but you.”

Annie nodded. “I was hoping it would help.”

“Please,” he said. “Please tell me what has made you so downtrodden.”

She finally broke, tears falling down her face. “My mom passed a few months ago. Heart failure they said. She hadn’t been feeling well and was getting tired easily. My dad took her to a cardiologist who ran some tests and said it was from an arrhythmia. They tried to fix it, but it didn’t hold. He took her to a different doctor recommended by a friend who found that her heart was weak, only working at about 15%, and she died a month later.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. It’s never easy losing a parent, especially a mother.”

“It was awful. I wanted to stay longer to help dad, but he practically chased me away, telling me to live and enjoy my life.”

Loki turned towards her. “Something tells me that’s not the end of your troubles.”

She cursed under her breath that he wouldn’t leave well enough alone. “It’s the first year I’m not getting a call from her singing me happy birthday.”

Quickly putting 2 and 2 together, he realized today must be her birthday. Being by herself told him that either she had no friends or that they had forgotten. Since living on Midgard, he understood the troubles of a birthday near this holiday, but his brother always made sure to celebrate it with him.

“If it’s alright with you, I would love to help you celebrate your birthday. After all, no one should have to spend their birthday alone.” He raised his hand to her face slowly, watching for signs that she didn’t want to be touched. When she gave no signs, he wiped away her tears. “And no one should be crying on their birthday, either. I believe it’s a rule, is it not?”

When she gave a small smile, it gladdened his heart. Standing up, he held his hand out to her. “Let's rectify that, shall we?”

Annie was hesitant, but something told her she could trust him. So she stood up, accepting his hand. Allowing him to guide her, they talked and walked to the skating rink. “It would behoove me to ask your name?”

“I’m Annie, Annie Creston.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Annie Creston.”

They approached the rink booth where he paid for tickets and ice skate rentals. Next thing she knew, they were skating around the rink. It was something she’d always wanted to do but had been too scared, and it was usually that either no one wanted to go or no one was available. Generally, it was the second one with Christmas only 3 days away.

So here she was, skating around the rink with the God of Mischief himself. Never in a hundred years did she think she’d end up in this situation; however, she was slowly feeling better. He tried to turn around and skate backwards to try to impress her. Instead, he tripped on his own feet and fell on his ass. Annie roared with laughter, and he followed suit. Rather than have all the fun himself, he pulled her down onto the ice with him, creating even more laughter between the two of them.

“I must say, this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” She agreed. When he finally stood back up, he gave her a hand, and they continued skating around the rink for a while, laughing and chatting. Before she knew it, well over an hour passed since he joined her on that bench.

Slowing down, she came to a stop, holding on to the side wall and smiled at him. They exited the rink and switched out the ice skates for the shoes they came in. “Thank you so much for this. It means a lot.”

“Oh, my dear, the night is not over, not yet. Do you trust me?” Once again, he held out his hand to her. She nodded, accepting his hand. He then tucked her hand into his arm and went off on a walk.

It was near impossible to tell where they were going. They were going into a part of the city she wasn’t very familiar with until she saw the iconic Avengers building. Looking up at it, it was much taller than she had realized when seeing it on TV.

What really surprised her was when he not only guided her inside, but he also took her into the elevator, pressing the button for one of the high floors. When the doors opened, there were balloons and streamers everywhere. Up on the wall was a sign reading Happy Birthday. What really stunned her was how many of the Avengers were there with party hats on, including Tony Stark himself and Loki’s brother, Thor. Bruce was the only one not in attendance. He was at his cousin’s place spending time with family.

Thor was the first one to reach her, giving her a big hug, even picking her up off her feet. “Put her down, you oaf.”

Realizing he was hugging her harder than a midgardian could take, he put her down. “Happy Birthday, Lady Annie! We are glad you allow us to celebrate in your revels.”

She was too stunned to speak. “How……” He leaned down and spoke softly. “They don’t call me the God of Mischief for nothing, dear.”

Tony strolled up. “He texted us saying he found a friend at the Rockefeller tree, alone on her birthday.” He gestured for her to actually come into the room. The further she got into their common room, the more she saw. There were all kinds of snacks and drinks. But the best part? They had a large birthday cake with her name on it. Over the course of the next few hours, the Avengers sang her Happy Birthday, ate cake with her, danced, and talked.

At one point, Tony pulled her aside. “I gotta tell you. When Loki told us about you, I looked you up, pulling files on you to see if you were a security risk. Instead, I saw the skill set you have with office work and the dismal pay you’re currently getting. So, if you’re interested, I’m looking for a secretary to help with paperwork and the like.”

“Holy Shit! Are you kidding?”

Nat interrupted. “He kids a lot, but not on things like this. I got a glimpse of those files. You are seriously undervalued at your current job, and I know he pays very well.” Tony nodded.

All Annie could do was nod furiously. This night went in directions she couldn’t even hope for.

“Oh, and just so you know,” Tony continued. “The job includes an apartment here in the tower.”

Tears started falling. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! I thought that was a good thing?” He turned to Nat. “Why is she crying?”

“You can be such an idiot sometimes. Those are happy tears, you moron.”

“OH! Okay.” He turned back to Annie. “So, what do you say, kid. New job, new apartment?” She couldn’t respond. Instead, she hugged him. This time, it was him who was stunned, unused to being hugged, but he opted to return her hug, just this once. It was her birthday after all.

When she let go, she turned to Loki. “This has been the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Nat leaned over. “Just wait until you see how he celebrates Christmas. If you don’t have plans, we would love for you to join us.”

In fact, she did not have plans, at least nothing other than eating some ham and watching It’s a Wonderful Life.

“I’d love to, if it’s not an imposition?”

“Kid, hanging out with us, you’ll have to get used to this kind of thing. You can move in tomorrow if you want.”

“Really?” She didn’t know that within her file, he saw she was on the landlord’s eviction list for January. It wasn’t anything she’d done wrong. The landlord decided to go co-op, and there was no way she could afford to keep her apartment.

Nat, Loki, and Thor offered to help her with packing and moving while Tony provided the moving truck. Annie didn’t have much, but she lived about 45 minutes away. While they were at her place packing up, Tony and Pepper set up her room. Tony had a brand new bed delivered, and Pepper styled her room. So by the time everyone was back with her things, all she needed to do was put away the few things she brought with her.

Pepper showed her the way to her room. The apartment they gave her was directly across the hall from Loki’s. Entering, her jaw dropped seeing everything. It was everything she’d wanted her crappy little apartment to be. The kitchen was well stocked, and the bed was one of those fancy cloud mattresses.

“If there’s anything you don’t like, we can change it. I didn’t know how much you liked to read. So we can get any books you might want.” She gestured to the empty bookshelf. “We can definitely get another bookshelf if you need one. That one,” pointing to Loki” has so many, his room might as well be a library.” Everyone laughed.

“Just so you know,” Tony spoke as he rolled into the room, “I have a policy with my employees. No working between Christmas Eve and the day after New Years. Paid holiday. No arguments.”

Pepper leaned over. “He’s not kidding. While he likes to work 24/7, he doesn’t force any of his employees to do that. And we wanted you to have some time to settle in.”

It was at this moment that Annie realized she never was alone. Her mother was looking over her, guarding and protecting her, helping give her a new start at life.

On Christmas Eve, she knew she didn’t have the money to buy everyone gifts. Instead, she spent hours baking bread and making cookies for everyone which was not done alone. Loki tried to help, but he knew nothing about cooking or making food. So rather than have him sitting there (which he was happy to do, but he wanted to help somehow), she taught him what she was doing as she was doing it, giving him instructions on what to do to help her. When each item was finished (except the bread), she had him sample each treat to make sure they were alright.

“If you don’t take these away from me right now, none of these sweets will make it to the other Avengers.”

“I assume that means the goodies are acceptable?” Annie smiled.

“‘Acceptable’ is a vast understatement. I’ve never had sweets this good in my life, and especially since I arrived on Midgard.” Before he could get to more of the treats, she put them on plates and brought them out to the common room. When Loki spotted Thor, he scolded him in advance. “If I’m not allowed to eat all these myself, then neither are you.”

Nothing she made lasted to the end of the day, and it made her very happy. The following morning, Christmas Day, she woke up early and went to the team kitchen by the common room. Gathering what she needed, she turned on the stove to warm up while mixing the batter. She’d only made a few pancakes when people started drifting in.

Steve was the first to arrive. “I smelled something delicious from my room and had to come see what it was.” Seeing the pancakes, he was incredibly happy. “Fair warning. Loki LOVES pancakes.”

She flipped another pancake. “Good thing I’m making enough to feed an army. I have a tendency to make more than necessary.”

He laughed. “You’re going to fit in perfectly here.” Grabbing plates and utensils, he set the table and then retrieved the orange juice.

It wasn’t long before everyone else entered, following the scent of the pancakes. Everyone sat down and dug in.

Nat managed to stop long enough to compliment her. “I think you just de-throned Clint’s pancakes.”

“Hey!” Clint feigned offense.

“Oh give it up, bird boy. Yes, your pancakes are great, but hers,” Tony pointed his fork at Annie, “are better.”

“Thes is uh moss delifus cak.” Thor kept eating one pancake after another.

Nat scolded him. “Thor, don’t speak with your mouth full. And they’re called pancakes. Cake is what we had on her birthday.” He nodded, knowing Nat would reprimand him if he spoke with his mouth full again.

Tony got up first, putting his plate in the sink. Walking over to Thor, he whispered in his ear, and the two gentlemen left the room. Once everyone was finished, they told Annie to relax while they cleaned the dishes.

20 minutes later, everyone was called into the common room where they found Thor dressed as Santa. Annie tried to take off for her room, but no one would let her. “I didn’t get anything for you guys…..”

Tony hushed her. “You made all those treats yesterday and then made us the best pancakes we’ve ever had….”

“Hey!” Barton feigned offense again.

“So you sit your ass down and enjoy Christmas with the rest of us. You’ve already given us your present.” Annie gave up and found a comfortable loveseat with a good view of the festivities, and Loki took the seat next to her.

Acting as Santa, Thor handed out gifts to everyone, including Annie. Everyone got presents for her. Tony gave her a brand new, top of the line Stark laptop and phone. Clint gave her a bow and quiver of arrows, telling her he’d teach her. Pepper gave her a beautiful leather purse. Nat gave her a defense wand. When it was collapsed, it looked like an ordinary tube of lipstick. “I’ll teach you how to use it.” Steve was next. When she opened the gift bag, she found an Avengers shirt. "If it doesn't fit, let me know, but that one is only given to official Avengers. Tony sues anyone who tries to make one similar to it.." Everyone laughed.

"Capsicle isn't kidding," Tony retorted.

Thor gave her a large, stuffed unicorn. Everyone was both surprised but also not. “I could not find a real one. I hope this will suffice.”

But Loki? He handed his gift to her directly. When she opened it, it was a beautiful gold chain with an emerald pendant.

She wouldn’t tell anyone, but that was her favorite present, but it quickly became apparent. As she settled into her job, she could be found wearing it everyday. Through the months, she became good friends with everyone.

Well, everyone except Loki. One day it dawned on him that he had feelings for Annie, and they were slowly growing. Finally gathering the courage, he asked her on a date.

In the end, she got everything she ever wanted and much, much more.

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karaonasi · 8 months

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KitKat: The Start of Summer (Prologue)

I’m going to try posting sections of Kit’s story straight on Tumblr.

Let me know what you think.

This is Kit’s story following through the game with his own additions and alterations.

💜💜💜

The Start of Summer

This summer wasn’t the typical start of summer.

For one thing, we had graduated from high school. At the end of the summer, Miranda, Terri and all of my friends would scatter though I would be staying in Sunset Bird. I, however, would be commuting to school--Prism Vista SoCal University. For another thing, Cove wasn’t here. Even for graduation. Not to mention that he had been gone longer than usual. I understood. This was one of the last times he would be guaranteed to have time to visit his mother without worrying about school or work. It had been a bit lonely. Cove and I were practically joined at the hip--or ‘clingy’ as people often liked to tease us. But what else do you expect when you spend every day of your life with someone over the span of ten years? Hell, some marriages don’t last that long. Honestly, Cove was more brother to me than best friend. And I loved him as if he were my brother--or perhaps more so without having the need to compete for the same parents’ attention and affection as normal siblings do.

Now we sat on his front stoop waiting.

You know that Cliff had acclimated to life here in Sunset Bird when his idea of entertainment was watching for the new neighbor to move in--as if he was one of the nosey elderly tourists rather than his own age of 36. But when he reluctantly left for work, Cove volunteered to keep watch for him and report on the situation. I would have chosen to keep him company regardless, but I especially wanted to spend more time with him after the past few weeks without my best friend. I was happily surprised when he appeared in my window seat out of nowhere last night. But we hadn’t had a lot of time to catch up. So as we sat, I told him about the graduation ceremony and about running into Shiloh the day before. In turn, he told me about the trips with Kyra into the city with all the bright flashing lights, as well as into the desert to photograph the landscape. That last one had to be a sight--my ocean-bred friend in the desert. And how his mom and he enjoyed the care package that Mom and I had baked for them.

The nice thing about Cove--the thing that’s always been nice about Cove is that you never have to do anything to have a good time. No planned activities. No required conversation. You could just relax in each others’ company. And when we ran out of updates, that’s what we did.

Until the taxi pulled up across the street.

I nudged Cove’s shoulder, gesturing with my chin, my curiosity now piqued as to what geriatric couple would be taking over the Mean Not-Grandparents’ house this summer.

Then the door opened.

My eyes widened and my mind went blank for a moment. A nudge to my shoulder broke me out of my trance. Cove’s expression was akin to ‘Get a load of that guy.’

And yeah. I was.

Because it felt like the whole world had burst into color--which was ironic since the person was styled entirely in monochrome. I watched in wide-eyed fascination. Our new neighbor wasn’t some cranky older adult. He looked to be our age--or perhaps a little older, I thought as I watched the confident way in which he strolled to the taxi driver’s window, paid, then tapped on the frame of the car to signal it could depart. As if he did this all the time. I don’t think I had been in a taxi in my entire life. But this guy did it like it was no big deal. Between that and his fashion sense, I figured he must be a city kid--not Prism Vista or probably anywhere else in Southern California. Perhaps New York or somewhere on the northeast side of the country where black and white were favored over pastels and bright colors.

When he had finished with the task of dismissing the taxi driver, he just as confidently strolled over to where we were sitting. I liked the way he moved--with a graceful swagger, a cocky smile in place upon refined features. Yet nothing about his demeanor seemed snooty or stuck-up as he approached. “...wow…” I breathed, not realizing I had said it aloud until I heard a snort and a disbelieving, ‘Really?’ from beside me.

But…yeah. Really.

There was just…something….about this stranger…

I couldn’t even put my fingers on it. Just that it was like something inside myself…woke up upon seeing him. Like the world bloomed into color--no, more than just color. It was like the world around me burst into sensation or perhaps it wasn’t that the world had changed. Perhaps it was that I had changed. I could finally feel something that had been here but dormant all along. I had never felt this feeling before, this…being drawn to another person in more than a friendship way. I mean, I did have a reputation at school of being quite a flirt. But everyone around me always kinda also knew that there wasn't anything behind that. No intent on making a friendly flirtation into ‘more’. Because I had never felt ‘more.’ Not like my classmates, teammates, and friends did--all the little crushes and relationships that seemed to be integral to high school life. I just…never felt that way about anyone. And I didn’t want to lead anyone on by ‘giving it a try’ as I had some friends try to urge me to do. I know some people thought that there was something wrong with me--I had overheard it more than once. I even caught my parents worrying about it one night. And if I’m being honest, I have kinda worried if something was wrong with me too--if perhaps there was something inherently…broken about me.

Except.

Except none of this was precisely true. I had experienced something. It had been brief. And it had been years ago--so long ago that I can’t even be sure how much of it was real and how much had been embellished by my own imagination.

But I had at least felt something.

At that Summer Soiree. When I had been thirteen. That one solitary dance at the Cypress with that one mystery boy…hell, I never got so much as a name. And over the years even his face had faded. I just remembered dark hair…beautiful brown eyes with amber tones…and the way he danced with me…how his slender body pressed against mine, expertly guided mine in dance…

So many nights I spent reliving those few fleeting but perfect moments, my body remembering how it felt for the first and last time…

Until this moment…

Until this person.

“Hello folks, who might you be?”

“We’re the neighbors.” Cove’s voice once again pulled me out of my thoughts and memories

“Hallelujah.” The newcomer’s voice was deep and had a purring quality to it that seemed to resonate somewhere deep inside of me.

Wow.

This time I didn’t say it out loud, but the sentiment was still there. The stranger was striking—and not just due to his clothing style. He had even dyed his hair to match the black and white ensemble. Dedicated. He stopped just before us, one hip cocked, thumbs hooked into his pockets in a way that was both casual and just…would ‘sexy’ be the right word? It was hard to know, never having applied that term in earnest before—even in my mind. His fingers sported thick black metal rings, some fingers having more than one. Artfully ripped grey jeans openly displayed tantalizing peeks of creamy pink skin. I swallowed hard as I tore my gaze away from the stranger’s bare skin—feeling my cheeks tingle slightly.

“I’m Baxter Ward. It’s excellent to meet you, neighbors.”

Damn, even his name sounded expensive. But then he stepped closer, holding out a hand in greeting. My brain, which hadn’t yet fully recovered from its .exe failure, went on autopilot offering a hug as I would to anyone else I had friendly or affectionate feelings towards—with the solitary exception of Cove. Why Cove? Because my best friend and I were already so close, so entwined that hugging him just felt like crossing a line somehow.

And before I knew it, this hot stranger—Baxter—was in my arms. He wasn’t hesitant about it either. He stepped into the embrace, arms wrapping around me in turn…even giving me a light squeeze. Over his shoulder I could see my best friend raising one wavy eyebrow at me in disbelief. I simply gave him an expression that said ‘I don’t know either’, because I genuinely didn’t know what had happened. Not that I was complaining in the slightest because, yeah, hot guy.

When we stepped back, my mind had finally caught up enough to find my manners—rather than, you know, feeling up the new neighbor. “Welcome to Sunset Bird, Baxter. I’m Kit.”

Baxter gave me a delighted grin “Hey Kit. I am quite keen on getting to know you better this summer. We could be good friends.”

I flashed our new acquaintance a big friendly smile though internally I felt a wave of unaccustomed bashfulness because, though the words were commonplace enough, the purring tone of his voice as well as the emphasis he placed made what he said sound vaguely…suggestive…which…um…okay, so I just have no experience to know what to do with that…

Cove apparently did know how to take that. He made an amused scoff from my other side. That gained the attention of our neighbor.

“And you are?”

I cringed inwardly as I watched Cove avoid Baxter’s hand extended for a handshake by crossing his arms over his chest. No way that the newcomer could have known that it takes Cove time and familiarity to warm to new people. So perhaps it was good that my welcome may have been a little too warm--to counterbalance my best friend’s cold reception.

“I’m Cove,” he replied flatly.

Despite the rejection, our new neighbor wasn’t deterred. Instead, his brown eyes lit up. “Now wait, is that a nickname or your real name?”

I wasn’t surprised by Cove’s wary response. “It’s just my name.” It wasn’t the first time someone had chosen to point out the uniqueness of his name. It was a common occurrence actually whenever someone new met him at school.

Still, Baxter wasn’t put off by Cove’s demeanor. Rather, he only seemed more intrigued--even charmed, letting out a small laugh. “Your parents knew exactly what they were doing. I can’t imagine a more fitting name for the face I’m seeing.”

I smirked. He wasn't wrong. I had long suspected Cliff to have been some exiled merman with how he seemed to live as much in or by the sea as he did on land. It was only fitting that he had named his son something nautical. But Baxter had somehow sensed this about my friend--after only having stepped foot in our little town mere moments ago.

“Cove, that’s gorgeous,” he continued.

My smirk dropped, along with the buoyant mood I had been experiencing. And I didn’t understand why.

“It’s--it’s really not,” Cove stammered.

Perhaps my drop in mood had been in response to sensing Cove’s mounting distress. I knew the best way to get Cove to snap out of his discomfort and focus on me rather than our visitor. Teasing. “No, I agree. It suits you.”

Now Baxter turned a playful smile on me. “Nice to see someone else knows. The impact might’ve faded for you living with it this long, but I promise to the onlooker, it’s a knockout.”

Cove’s body stiffened and I winced--though I wasn’t sure that my reaction was entirely for Cove’s benefit. I opened my mouth to warn the stranger off further compliments to my freaked out best friend when the boy in monochrome took a step back, holding his hands out in a placating gesture, as if trying to soothe a wild animal. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t intended to mean more than it did. I like your name, but you don’t have to mind that. I’m patently against stepping on anyone’s toes.” He chuckled to himself, the sound charming.

I tilted my head, trying to decipher what exactly the visitor meant by it. Cove raised an eyebrow at me and I returned his silent inquiry with a shrug of my own. I felt eyes on me and I turned my attention from Cove back to Baxter--to find him…staring at me.

“Hm?” Okay, so it wasn’t the most elegant way of asking what was up. But I guess it didn’t matter since he didn’t respond. Instead, he kept his gaze in my general direction, finger tapping on the side of his chin. Cove and I exchanged another silent conversation of ‘I don’t know what the hell is going on either’. I wasn’t quite sure what to think of this guy. He had gone from ‘Oh my god, HOT!’ to disconcerting and a bit over the top to…is he having a staring seizure or something? I watched as he seemed to snap out of whatever that was. His lips curled into a lop-sided smile and, to my surprise, he pointed directly at me.

“We’ve met before.” He said it confidently.

I blinked. What?

Cove repeated my thought aloud. “What? When?”

I think I would have remembered someone who dressed like…this…

Baxter’s grin widened and I felt my cheeks heat slightly as the boy increased his scrutiny of me, tilting his head. “It’s embarrassing, but I haven’t remembered that part yet.” He laughed, obviously finding the byplay of confusion between me and Cove quite amusing. Then sparkling brown eyes settled upon me again. “I’m getting there. Don’t tell me. I know you want to, but do not. It’ll come to me.”

I blinked at him. Don’t tell him? Yeah, that wouldn’t be a problem since I was wracking my mind and couldn’t come up with anyone who resembled this outlandish figure in looks or mannerisms. Our gazes each traveled up and down the other, continuing to search for the answer.

Only…wait…

That feeling I experienced when Baxter first appeared on our street…as if I had seen colors for the first time…had felt my mind and body respond to someone with more than just friendly interest for the first time…that wasn’t the first time at all--was it? Our eyes met and I saw the same spark of recollection in his…felt a spark jump between us--the same spark that I had felt only once before.

With a snap of his fingers, he announced the realization we both had come to. “The Cypress at the Summer Soiree. Of course.” Then Baxter started to reminisce about the details. But I didn’t need further reminding. It wasn’t like I had ever forgotten that magical night…

💜💜💜

Next up: Flashback 5 Years Ago:

#baxter ward #kitkat #our life #fanfic #our life beginnings & always #our life beginnings and always #gb patch games #our life baxter #olba #our life: beginnings & always #olba baxter #cove holden

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