#Anyways these are my thoughts this fine day
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PETER MORWOOD oh my godddddd i was trying to remember who the fuck it was with the good foccacia recipe and i was like. "he is friends with diane duane on tumblr and is also an author. i scrolled for ages looking and then god sick of it, opened the ask, and it popped right in. anyway thought it'd make you laugh to know that i remember peter morwood primarily through his foccacia recipe and being your tumblr buddy than for his life's works
(chortle) I suspect he won't think that's a hanging offense. (And tbh, most of his stuff isn't in print in North America at the moment. But we're working on that.)
Meanwhile, since Himself is presently asleep upstairs after a late night, here's the link to the recipe we've been using (it's on the Washington Post's recipe site). They in turn adapted theirs from one of the focaccia recipes here at the Bread In 5 website, which comes from the people who wrote Artisan Pizza and Flatbread in Five Minutes a Day.
(In case it's paywalled, I'll cut-and-paste it under the cut...)
Ingredients
4 cups (500 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1 1/2 cups plus 2 tablespoons (390 milliliters) lukewarm water
6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
1 tablespoon (11 grams) granulated sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons (4 to 5 grams) dried instant yeast (not rapid rise)
1 1/8 teaspoons (16 grams) fine salt
2 teaspoons finely chopped fresh rosemary (from 2 to 4 sprigs), divided
Coarse or flaky salt, for sprinkling
In a large (5- to 6-quart) bowl, use a wooden spoon to stir together the flour, water, 2 tablespoons of the oil, the sugar, yeast and fine salt until a rough dough forms. Transfer to a container with a lid, partially cover and let rest for about 2 hours on the counter. You can use the dough right away, or cover and refrigerate until needed; see Make ahead. (If you plan on refrigerating and have a lidded container large enough for mixing, you can assemble the dough in there and refrigerate it after the 2-hour rise on the counter. The dough is much easier to handle after being thoroughly chilled.)
Place a baking stone on the middle oven rack and preheat to 425 degrees. Pour 2 tablespoons of oil into a 9-inch cake pan and evenly coat the bottom of the pan.
Dust the surface of the refrigerated dough lightly with flour, then pull half of it off (about 1-pound/454-gram portion; the dusting makes this task easier, as the dough is sticky). Dust the half you are using with more flour and quickly shape it into a ball by stretching the surface of the dough around to the bottom on all four sides, rotating the ball a quarter-turn as you go.
Use your hands to flatten it into a 1/2-inch-thick round 6 to 7 inches in diameter. Place the dough top side down in the cake pan, moving it around a bit to coat with the oil. It will not fill to the edges of the pan. Turn the dough over, cover the pan with plastic wrap or a plate, and let the dough rest for 10 to 15 minutes.
Use your hands to gently push the dough to the edges of the cake pan. Sprinkle with half of the the rosemary and coarse or flaky salt, as needed.
Re-cover with plastic wrap or plate, and let the dough to rest and rise for 20 minutes.
Repeat with the second ball of dough, or store it to bake later.
Transfer the cake pan to the heated baking stone in the oven and bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the focaccia crust is medium brown and feels dry and firm on the surface. The baking time will vary depending on the focaccia’s thickness. (If baking both loaves at once, switch them from left to right and rotate from front to back halfway through to ensure even baking.)
Use a rounded knife to loosen the loaf from the edges of the pan, then transfer the focaccia to a cutting board. Cut into wedges and serve warm, or allow to cool completely.
Disclosure: ...Noting here that not one of these I've made has ever reached the "allow to cool completely" stage. Something always seems to... happen to them first. (Like Peter. Or me. Or both of us at once.) :)
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[11k] a seemingly random attack seems to be the start of a big problem for the new jersey devils and you find yourself one of the main targets. fortunately, you have one of the team's best as your appointed bodyguard. unfortunately, he seems to want nothing to do with you.
new jersey mob masterlist || nhl mob masterlist
warning: this is a mob au. topics and themes such as violence, blood, murder and gun use are prevalent and constant throughout the fic. please keep that in mind if you choose to proceed with this fic and the whole series.
.
“Did no one ever tell you as a kid that this much sugar is going to rot your teeth?”
“Well, brother dearest, considering you were the one who raised me, I think that’s a question you should be asking yourself.”
“You know, it’s kinda your fault her nickname is Candy,” a voice sounded from the background of the phone call. You beamed, almost imagining your brother’s face scrunching up at the callout. “Her sweet tooth is strongly encouraged by you.”
“Shut up, Jack.”
“Just pointing out the facts.”
“No one asked.”
“I assume you don’t want an eclair then?” You questioned, interrupting the bickering boys on the phone. The silence that followed made your grin widen.
“Tell Peter to give me the biggest one.”
“He always does,” you retorted, phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as the small bakery came into view. “Tell Jack I’ll get him those lemon muffins he likes.”
“You’re the best, Candy!” Jack’s voice rang through the phone.
“I know,” you answered simply, letting the bell ring above your head as you pushed the bakery door open.
You smiled when you saw Peter—a sweet boy, no older than his mid-twenties with ruffled hair and constantly flushed cheeks—standing behind the counter with a stained apron on and a determined look on his face that softened when he saw you.
“The usual?”
“You know it.”
“Coming right up, Candy!”
“Luke thinks Peter has a crush on you,” Jack’s voice came through the phone once again.
“I’ll shove a cupcake down his throat before he can try anything,” Timo grumbled.
You rolled your eyes. “You’ll do no such thing, I’d rather not get banned,” you said, grinning a little when you heard Timo scoff. “And as flattered as I am, he’s a bit too soft for me.”
“I bet he wouldn’t be so soft if you—”
“Zip it, Hughes.”
You snorted. “I’m high maintenance. Peter couldn’t handle that.”
“No one in their right mind can.”
“I can think of a few who could.”
Timo huffed. “It’s like you’re trying to make me feel murderous on a Sunday. It’s God’s day. I don’t kill on Sundays.”
“Well,” Jack started. “You did kill that dodgy fisherman a few weeks back on a Sunday—”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“Pete is a good guy, surely you’d want her to date him over anyone else—”
“It’s like you have a death wish.”
“He’s winding you up,” you snorted, making yourself comfortable since the bakery was empty and settling on the counter by the cash register. “And you fall for it every time.”
“Whatever,” Timo grumbled, and you could almost imagine the frown on his face. “Why are you over at Peter’s anyways? I thought Nico sent you to Philly.”
“Jonas went alone instead,” you shrugged, despite the fact the boy couldn’t see you. “Apparently back up wasn’t needed and the negotiations were going fine. He wants me to head towards Buffalo instead. They are avoiding his calls.”
Jack snorted. “Leave it to Nico to send Candy instead of leaving a voicemail.”
“I’m scarier,” you grinned.
Timo laughed. “Yeah, just as terrifying as a pink poodle.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’ll suffocate you with my fur coat.”
“You wouldn’t be able to catch me in those heels.”
“You underestimate me, Tims,” you grinned.
He let out a disgusted groan. “Don’t call me that.”
When it came to life in the mob, there were a few rules you had to always remember.
One: never trust someone not sworn in. No matter what they say and no matter what they do to try and prove themselves, no man or woman not under that same oath and protection will ever have your back.
Two: make alliances with your brain and not your heart. It sounded stupid but far too many times have people found themselves entering stupid deals and negotiations to get what they wanted, far too blinded by their own desires to take off their rose-tinted glasses.
Three: always—and emphasis on the always—be alert. You never know when an enemy can strike. You never know who’s lingering in the shadows, ready to catch you off-guard.
Unfortunately for you, it was the third rule you found yourself forgetting as the sound of glass smashing echoed through the small bakery.
There was a ringing in your ears, muffling the sounds of screams and yells and gunshots as the world seemed to move in slow motion around you. You were distantly aware that one of the voices was your brother on the phone, the other Peter somewhere in the back. But you could barely focus on your own thoughts as you quickly dropped to the ground, your back pressed against one of the booths as the gunshots continued to rain through the shop.
You cursed yourself for not being alert. You cursed yourself for leaving your gun in your car. You cursed yourself for not even peeking to see how many men were shooting before you ducked to safety.
You were so far in your own thoughts that it took a while to realise the gunshots had stopped.
You jumped out of your skin when you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning to find Peter staring back at you with a pale face and wide eyes. His lips were moving but you couldn’t seem to process the words he was saying.
“Calm down,” you managed to mutter out, placing your hand over his and squeezing. “You’re gonna be okay.”
But the boy shook his head. “We need to get a doctor.”
You blinked, your brain hardly keeping up with him. “What? Why?”
Peter almost looked nervous as he spoke, as white dots began to blur your vision and his face morphed into blobs of colours. His mouth was moving, a pink and reddish blob that kept changing shape, as you strained to hear what he said.
And then, your vision went black.
…
“You were hurt!”
“Timo—”
“Seriously injured! Hospitalised!”
“It doesn’t count as a hospital if it’s just in the house—”
“You were shot!” Timo gritted out through clenched teeth, his fists clenched at his side so tight that his knuckles were white.
“Shot is a bit of an exaggeration,” you murmured under your breath.
Timo turned on his heel, his eyes narrowed in a glare. “A fucking bullet went through you, how the fuck would you describe that?”
“An unfortunate occurrence,” you retorted despite Nico shooting you a look to behave, to not wind your brother up any further. “It hardly warrants the need of a babysitter.”
“A bodyguard,” Nico corrected.
“Semantics,” you waved him off.
“You were a part of a targeted attack against us,” Timo hissed, the vein on his forehead starting to pop out. “A bodyguard is exactly what you need right now.”
“Everyone in this fucking room has been a part of a targeted attack,” you snapped back at your older brother. “News flash! It comes with the fucking lives we live! You are being far too dramatic over one little bullet wound.”
“My mistake for caring,” Timo deadpanned.
“It’s not the worst I’ve experienced and you know it,” you retorted, watching the boy’s mouth snap shut. You let out a sigh, a wave of guilt washing over you as you pushed yourself off Nico’s couch and walked closer to your brother. “I’m fine. I promise.”
Timo opened his mouth.
“Timo,” you said in a softer voice, watching his shoulders drop. “Look, if anything weird happens in the next few weeks or if we have any reason to believe they will specifically attack me again, then I’ll agree to a bodyguard.”
Timo looked conflicted. “Promise?”
“Pinky promise,” you replied, grinning far too wide for someone who was barely allowed out of bed so soon. “Now, put your big boy pants on and go do something productive.”
Nico’s brows furrowed together. “You know I’m the boss here, right?”
“Send him somewhere far away for the week!”
…
“You promise you’re okay?”
“Geez, what are you, my mother?” You grumbled, your fingers dancing over the hangers on the rail as the boy followed behind you. “I’m okay. Doctor just said no strenuous activities.”
Alex raised his brows. “Are you mentally okay? Emotionally okay?”
“Forget my mother, are you my therapist?” You muttered, turning to look at the boy with narrowed eyes. “How much did Timo pay you?”
Alex scoffed. “What makes you think he paid me anything?”
“Because you never come shopping with me, let alone willingly,” you retorted with something quite triumphant in your smile.
“Yeah, well, shopping is a strenuous activity when it comes to you,” Alex grumbled under his breath, readjusting the countless bags and hangers in his hands. “I couldn’t let you hurt yourself any more than you currently are.”
You beamed, lightly patting his cheek. “That’s why you’re my favourite, Holtzy.”
“Timo also threatened me,” he added, a small smile tugging on his lips when he saw you roll your eyes and turn back around. “He can be scary, even when he’s across the country.”
“Nico should’ve sent him somewhere further,” you sighed, shaking your head before turning your attention back to the dresses on the rack. “Speaking of, I thought Nico put you in charge of checking up on Peter.”
“Jack and Luke wanted to take over,” Alex shrugged. “They wanted to make sure he was actually okay.”
You pressed your lips together in a frown. “Is that even safe? Both of them to be seen with Peter?”
“You think someone from Toronto is lurking in a bush outside the bakery, just waiting to see the three of them together?” Alex deadpanned, unphased by the look you gave him. He had been on the receiving end far too many times. “They’ll be fine. Nico wouldn’t have allowed it if it was unsafe.”
“Nico is also completely distracted by the fact Trouba supposedly wanted to meet to talk about some alliance or something,” you snorted.
“How do you know these things?” Alex questioned, his head tilted in curiosity.
“I have my ways,” you grinned knowingly. “And I have my ways of knowing if you repeat any of this to anyone. Especially Curtis. He is such a gossip.”
Alex paused before nodding. “Yeah no, that is fair. You think he will take Trouba up on the offer?”
“If the incentive is right.”
“That was frustratingly vague.”
“I know.”
“Well, distracted or not, Nico would never let anything bad happen to Jack and Luke, or Peter by extension,” Alex said, sounding so sure of himself. “He has worked hard to keep Peter’s presence in Jersey under wraps. He wouldn’t let Jack or Luke ruin that, not when they were the ones who asked for it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you hummed, waving him off. “You’re right. Blah blah blah. You done yet?”
Alex rolled his eyes. “You asked.”
“Yeah but I was hoping you’d agree with me it was unsafe so we had an excuse to visit after this,” you retorted, flashing him an innocent smile over your shoulder. “Wanna split an apple pie?”
Alex sighed but he agreed.
…
Just like you assumed, the next two weeks passed without a hitch or whisper of another attack.
After Nico practically threatened to make Timo your round-the-clock bodyguard, you got the proper rest and care needed for your wound to mostly heal. You were still a little tender—and banned from your and Dawson’s weekly yoga sessions—but you felt close to your normal self, able to join some of the others on the less physical jobs, like visiting the factories and handling negotiations.
Unfortunately for you, it was week three when disaster struck again.
“I’m surprised Nico even let you step foot into this place,” you teased as you closed the car door behind you, finding the boy already rolling his eyes at you.
“Sometimes a pretty boy has to do some dirty work too,” Jack replied, grinning boyishly as he looped his arm with yours before walking towards the warehouse.
“Your ego truly astounds me,” you commented.
“Says you,” he retorted, laughing as he tried to ignore your heel jabbing into his toes.
It was a routine check-up, something that wasn’t meant to take longer than thirty minutes—forty tops, if you left Jack to do it alone and get distracted. But the shipment had just left and you needed to make sure nothing was left behind and assure no tracks were left behind. Nico preferred people close to him doing the checks.
You had been mildly surprised that he sent you and Jack together, though, you had a feeling that the whole peace treaty with the Rangers was taking over Nico’s plate.
“Everything looks good,” Jack said as he jogged back towards you, pushing some hair out of his face. “What about your side?”
“All good,” you confirmed. “Let’s head back before Timo gets there. The dick made a bet with me that he would be back from Washington before us.”
Jack paused. “Isn’t he meant to be staying the night?”
You huffed. “Please, the boy has been like a fucking helicopter parent. Unless it’s on the west coast, he doesn’t like being away for a day because apparently something will happen to me if he’s not here.”
Jack shook his head fondly but his hand rested over yours, giving it a small squeeze. “He just cares, Candy.”
You felt a flash of guilt in the pit of your stomach. “Jack—”
“Take it from a guy who lost a sibling, it isn’t fun,” he said, trying to smile and laugh through it but it fell flat.
You frowned, not giving the boy a chance to run off before you wound your arms around him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you murmured softly.
“I know,” Jack whispered, his arms wrapping around you in return. “He just wants to know you’re safe. God knows I’d freak out the same if it was Luke in your position.”
“A pair of overbearing brothers you are,” you teased, pulling back with a softer smile on your face. “You’re a good brother. And a good friend.”
Jack raised his brows. “Wow, I didn’t even have to pay you for that compliment.”
You rolled your eyes. “I meant you’re a good friend to Peter. How’s he holding up?”
“A bit shaken,” Jack confessed as you both walked back towards the car, his lips turned downwards. “The damage to the shop wasn’t too bad, mostly just replacing the windows and cleaning up. But he’s freaked out that people are on his tail.”
You hummed, nodding. “And you? How do you feel?”
Jack couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “I’m not the one that got shot.”
“Yeah but,” you paused, waving your hand around. “If Peter is freaked out—”
“Anything freaks him out,” Jack mused. “It was just a normal, run of the mill, everyday kind of event that happens when you’re in the mob. There’s nothing or no reason to believe it was anything but a fluke—”
BOOM!
You felt Jack’s body covering yours before you even realised you were on the ground. You managed to peek over Jack’s shoulder, your eyes widening at the sight of the warehouse—the same one you were inside mere minutes ago—bursting into flames that were growing and spreading and burning wildly.
“Okay, I take it back,” Jack muttered, his eyes glued on the burning building. “Not a fluke. Definitely targeted. We are fucked.”
You swallowed. “Dibs on not calling Nico.”
…
“I knew it.”
You rolled your eyes at the cock-sureness in your brother’s voice.
“This is serious,” Nico spoke up, shooting Timo a look before he went on a rant—again. “That’s two attacks in three weeks. And we have no fucking idea who’s behind them. Or if they are even linked at all.”
“It’s hard when we have a plethora of enemies,” Jesper deadpanned, raising his hands in mock surrender when Nico shot him a look. “Just saying.”
“Stop reminding me,” Nico grumbled.
“Guess we can cross the Rangers off our list though, right, Boss?” You teased, wiggling your brows despite the glare you were receiving.
“Candy,” Nico sighed. “Your brother is right. I think it’s best to have a bodyguard around, just for the next few weeks until we work things out.”
“Yeah because a bodyguard is sure gonna help when the building blows up, this time with us in it,” you deadpanned.
“I’d be more observant than Jack,” Timo commented.
“Hey!” Jack frowned.
“Absolutely fucking not,” you quickly stood up, shaking your head. “You’re not going to be my bodyguard. I’m not having you hovering over me twenty-four-seven. You’re bad enough as it is.”
Timo clenched his jaw. “Yes, I am—”
“No. She’s right. You’re not,” Nico spoke up, quickly interrupting you both. “But you are getting a bodyguard. Just to take precautions until we confirm whether you’re a target or if you just happened to be at the targeted places by chance. Maybe having another pair of eyes around you, someone who’s vigilant, will be insightful.”
“I’m not five, Nico, I can take care of myself,” you insisted, your arms crossed over your chest. “A babysitter isn’t going to do anything other than be a nuisance.”
“The bodyguard,” Nico corrected with a pointed look. “Is necessary and will not be negotiated.”
“This is ridiculous,” you said to him.
“And he’s going to be with you around the clock, always by your side,” Nico said.
Your nose scrunched up. “No.”
“Every shopping trip, every little run into town,” Nico continued.
You could feel your skin prickling. “Nico—
“And I’m moving him into your room to sleep, armed and ready just in case,” Nico insisted.
This time it was Timo who stepped in. “Woah, wait a second—”
“And I know the perfect guy,” Nico grinned. “Marino will be your bodyguard.”
It was like a switch flipped in your head, your irritance and fight disappearing as you grinned at him. “Okay.”
“I—” Timo narrowed his eyes at you. “Why are you suddenly okay with this?”
“Because I know how to listen to my boss, Timmy, you should try it some time,” you grinned at your brother, patting his shoulder before you sauntered out of the office.
“Stop calling me that,” Timo groaned as he followed you out.
Jesper waited a few moments before your voices were clearly down the hall. “You did that just to stir some drama, didn’t you?”
“Yup,” Nico answered quite happily.
“Thank god, everyone was sick of the pining puppy dog eyes,” Jack grumbled from the spot on Nico’s desk he was sitting on.
…
You had known John Marino for as long as you had been with the Devils.
He was quieter than the rest, happy to linger in the corners of the room and observe everyone. It makes sense why Nico had chosen him as the role of your bodyguard, it was John’s nature to notice things most people missed. But, ultimately, it confused the fuck out of you.
Because for as long as you had known John, you were also certain the boy didn’t like you.
You could count on one hand the amount of conversations you shared with the boy, and even those conversations lasted thirty seconds at most. And for a majority of those thirty seconds, it was you talking and him saying three words in response, if even that.
You had eventually accepted the fact that some personalities just clashed, that maybe you were too loud or too energetic or too extroverted for John’s liking. You tried to tell yourself you were okay with it because, at the end of the day, he was still polite and curt with you.
But you would be lying if you said a small part of you wasn’t offended that you were nothing more than a glorified acquaintance with John Marino.
So really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone that you were going to use the next few weeks with him to get him to like you. Or figure out what the hell his deal was.
“You think John hates you?” Dawson repeated, like that was the detail he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around in your whole plan.
“Hate is a strong word,” you said in response. “I’m simply going to get him to come out of his shell a little. With me specifically.”
“Not the kinda coming he wants to do with you,” Dawson muttered under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!” Dawson quickly cleared his throat. He turned his gaze back towards the corridor the two of you were currently walking down. “How do you plan to get him out of his shell?”
“I don’t need a strategy to make friends,” you mused, grinning a little when the boy rolled his eyes in response. “My plan is to not have a plan. I am sure with the time spent together, he will eventually open up.”
“That still sounds like a strategy,” Dawson commented but you didn’t get the chance to reply, the door to Nico’s office swinging open and a beaming Nico taking the focus of your attention instead.
“Candy, brilliant, you’re here!”
You blinked. “Yes, you asked me to be. You literally sent me a text ten minutes ago—”
“Anyways!” Nico spun around, still grinning a concerning amount as he wandered back into the office, a few of the other boys already inside. “I don’t like the idea of waiting around for another attack to get answers.”
Jesper raised his brows. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I want both attacks investigated separately so we can see if there are any dots joining,” Nico stated simply, leaning against his desk. “Bratter, you and Jack are on warehouse duty. I want to know everyone who stepped foot in that place in the last month.”
“Bit hard to do when the cameras blew up with the building but sure,” Jack grumbled.
“Candy,” Nico’s eyes shifted to you. “You and John will be on the bakery.”
“Is it really a good idea to send her back to the bakery?” Timo interrupted, stepping forward.
“I’m not ignoring it for the rest of my life because of one attack,” you told him. “Me and Johnny can handle it.”
“Johnny?” Timo repeated incredulously before spinning around to find John, who was standing near the back of the room with a blank expression on his face. “Since when were you Johnny?”
John only shrugged in response.
Timo’s eyes narrowed.
“As I was saying,” Nico spoke up again. “This is how we are doing it.”
“What about the rest of us?” Timo asked.
“You have other jobs to do,” Nico said simply. “I am not putting our lives on hold over a few attacks. We continue everything else like normal. I don’t want it to get out that we are concerned over these attacks, they will make us look weak.”
Jonas’ lips twitched upwards. “And god forbid you look weak before you have the chance to woo the Rangers—”
Nico had elbowed him in the gut before he managed to finish that sentence.
…
“You’re staring.”
You blinked, wondering for a few moments if you had imagined the boy speaking. The two of you had been sitting in your room for the better part of the last two hours, combing through the security footage from the bakery that Peter had sent you.
And in that time, John had said two words, a simple ‘on it’ when you sent him half of the security footage to watch over.
Somewhere in that time, you found yourself sitting against your headboard, watching the boy sitting at your desk with narrowed eyes like you would somehow be able to figure him out through observation.
Clearly, that didn’t work very well.
“Staring is considered a compliment,” you replied, watching the way his lips twitched upwards. You waited for him to turn around and go back to the footage, but you were surprised when he leaned back in his seat to look at you.
“And are you?” He questioned, watching your head tilt in confusion. “Complimenting me?”
“No,” you shook your head. “I’m wondering why you’re here.”
John raised his brows. “You are aware you were shot a few weeks ago, right?”
“Yes but you didn’t have to say yes to Nico,” you pointed out.
John stared back at you for a few moments before he spoke. “I wanted to, Candy.”
He didn’t give you the chance to reply before he turned back around, his focus returning to the hours of security footage he had been watching minutes before.
…
It took a little over three days to watch all the footage from the bakery’s security cameras just for it to come up with no leads. The warehouse was no better, with no real evidence or clues on who set up the attack.
Nico was trying to keep a brave face and pretend like it wasn’t that big of a deal but you could see that it was unsettling him. Someone clearly had a target on the Devils’ back and the reason was unclear, which made it ten times harder to anticipate what the next move would be. And with the deal with the Rangers coming up, the last thing any of you needed was a weakness to be exposed.
“We will figure it out,” Nico kept saying whenever it was questioned by some of the other members, the ones not as privy to the inner circle talks in his study late at night. “We will be fine.”
You were pretty sure he was trying to convince himself of that fact too.
“We need to do something,” you said around a week after the investigation into the attacks began, lying on your bed with your head hanging over the edge. “How the fuck have we not found anything?”
“Because whoever is behind it is good at covering their tracks?” Jack suggested from his spot beside you on the bed.
“Or because we are trying to catch them with little to no evidence,” John added, standing by the door of your room with his hands obediently behind his back. “You know, since everything was either burned or destroyed or has a million bullet holes in it.”
“Will you sit down? You’re stressing me out,” you muttered to him.
“No,” John stated simply.
Jack snorted. “He is jealous I took the bed.”
“I am not.”
Jack shot you a knowing look. “He totally is.”
“There has to be something else,” you sighed, your eyes fixed on the massive pile of clothes you had thrown over the back of your desk chair. John had wrinkled his nose at all the sequins and glitter, a look which soured when you suggested he add some colour to his outfits. The constant all black was starting to make you feel angsty.
“We’ve tried everything, bar kidnapping random people off the street and interrogating them,” John retorted.
“My plan was way more nuanced than that,” Jack insisted. “Stop making it sound dumb.”
“He can’t make it sound dumb if it is dumb,” you pointed out.
John’s lips twitched upwards.
Jack scoffed. “Since when did you two agree with each other?”
“Since you became an easy target,” you retorted, hissing when the boy reached over to pinch your arm. “Ouch, asshole.”
“It was deserved,” Jack insisted.
You turned your head to look at John. “I thought my bodyguard was meant to protect me.”
“Because Jack and his noodle arms are such a big threat,” John deadpanned.
Jack quickly sat up in bed. “Woah, now wait a second—”
“It would take more than a second to fix your noodle arms.”
Jack narrowed his eyes at the boy. “I do not know why Luke likes you so much.”
John shrugged in response.
“Is Peter’s shop still under renovation?” You questioned, interrupting whatever weird staring contest the two of them were doing. The mention of his friend was enough for Jack to tear his eyes away from John to focus on you instead.
“What? Yeah, they are,” he nodded with his lips turned down. “Why?”
“Good,” was the only response you gave, quickly swinging your legs over the side of the bed as you sat up. Both boys looked at you with confused expressions, watching as you hooked the straps of your heels on one finger and reached for one of your coats with the other hand.
John straightened. “What are you—”
“Hurry up, Johnny, we are leaving in five,” you stated, grinning when you noticed him let out a heavy sigh like he accepted the fact he wasn’t getting answers from you.
“What about me?” Jack called out.
“Don’t know and don’t care!”
…
Peter’s Bakery was a cute and quaint shop that didn’t stand out amongst the others on the street. It fit right in with the friendly, homely neighbourhood and was a huge hit with the locals. It was a simple place, hidden right in plain sight.
Despite the connection to the Devils, there was no reason for it to be targeted in an attack.
“Eighty percent of Peter’s customers are locals,” you told John as you walked towards the bakery, your heels clicking against the cement in a melodic pattern. It was comforting, something to hold onto as memories of the last time you were here flooded to the front of your mind.
“So?” John questioned, his eyes hidden behind the sunglasses he had slipped on before the two of you left the house. You could bet your bottom dollar that he was already analysing everything, probably had been since the second the two of you got out of the car.
“Ten percent are people from surrounding areas and the remaining ten are tourists from states excluding the ones in the immediate surrounding area,” you continued. “And the chances of the attacker being a local is slim to none so—”
“You think the person behind all this visited the bakery before the attack?” John finished for you.
“Bingo, Johnny,” you grinned at the boy, watching as he simply pressed his lips together.
“And you think he is just going to remember every customer he interacted with?” John asked, the judgement clear from his voice. “We already combed through the CCTV footage, we know there was nothing weird—”
“That was on camera,” you pointed out. “They could have given a different vibe in person.”
“A different vibe?” John repeated in a dubious tone.
“I don’t see you jumping with any better ideas,” you retorted as the boy just sighed in response. “Cheer up, Johnny, the ever present frown is going to give you wrinkles.”
John didn’t get the chance to even try and respond before you were pushing the door to the bakery open. Despite the damage to the shop, the bell above the door remained intact and dinged as the two of you walked in. It was a mess, with cans of paints and planks of wood and tools sprawled over the place, but the vague smell of cookies still somehow lingered in the air.
“Sorry, we are closed for—oh,” Peter poked his head out from the back of the store, his lips twisting into a smile when he saw you. “Candy, I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
“We just had a few questions for Jersey’s favourite baker,” you smiled innocently.
“We?” Peter repeated, his eyes glancing past your shoulder like he was noticing John for the first time. A look passed over his face before he cleared his throat. “Marino.”
“Perry.”
“It’s Peter.”
“Whoops.”
“Play nice,” you pouted, lightly elbowing John’s side before turning your smiling face back to Peter. “Excuse him, he gets pissy if he misses his afternoon nap.”
John’s jaw clenched as Peter laughed.
“Come on in,” Peter smiled back. “I’m all yours for the next hour before the builders come back from their lunch break.”
“How convenient,” John murmured under his breath, lifting his hands in mock surrender as you shot him a look before the both of you followed him into the back of the store.
…
“So, that was useless.”
“No surprise there.”
Your eyes narrowed into a glare, your mood only souring further when you found the boy wasn’t even looking back at you. His gaze seemed to be glued ahead, his jaw still clenched like it had been the whole time you had been in the bakery.
“What is your problem?” You asked, wrapping your coat further around your body as the wind began to pick up. “You have been in an awful mood since we arrived.”
“I’ve been completely normal,” John answered. Those stupid sunglasses on his face were starting to piss you off.
“You have not,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You were fine joking around with Jack back in the house but the second we left, you were in a downright horrible mood—hey!”
“Keep your voice down,” John grumbled, his hand now locked around your arm as he tugged you closer to his side.
You let out a snort of laughter. “You’re funny if you think—”
“Someone has been following us since we left the bakery,” John said, his voice low and barely a muscle on his face moving as he spoke. “Lower your voice and follow me.”
And for once, you listened.
There was a growing temptation to look back. To just take a peek over your shoulder and see the face of the person who was following you, to try and get an idea of who it was. There was no coincidence that the two of you were being followed the second you left the bakery, the same goddamn place you were first attacked.
You wondered if it was the same person. You wonder if they were the one that shot the gun that hit you. You wondered if—
“You’re spiralling,” John’s voice cut through your thoughts.
“Am not,” you retorted, but it sounded weak to your own ears.
“Lie better,” John insisted, his hand tightening around your arm as he spoke.
It was like you could hear the footsteps behind you now, like they were loud and clear the second John had pointed them out to you. When you sped up, so did they. When you slowed down, so did they. They were matching your moves and following the two of you and the car was too far away and you couldn’t call for backup without alerting the person and—
“Shhhh, breathe for me.”
You blinked before you even realised what was happening. Torn out of your own spiralling thoughts, you found yourself pressed against a wall, the cold bricks jabbing into your back but the comfort was the least of your problems. John was pressed up against you, not an inch of you exposed to the rest of the world as he kept you pinned between him and the wall.
You lifted your head to watch his side profile, watch the way he kept his eyes on the entryway to the alley he had pulled you down before you even realised what was happening. You watched the way his cheeks flushed pink, probably from the nipping weather (though it was hard to care about that when he was like a furnace against you). You watched the way he looked so focused, so in his element.
It was hard to doubt Nico’s choice when you were seeing John do just what he did best.
“I think it’s all clear,” he eventually said, breaking the silence that had been lingering since he dragged you into the alley.
You swallowed harshly. “You sure?”
“Have I given you any reason to doubt I wouldn’t take your safety seriously?” John asked, turning his head so he was finally looking at you. You watched him closely, watched the way his eyes darted over your face and lingered on your lips for a moment too long before returning to your eyes.
“No,” you replied honestly.
“Then there’s your answer,” he murmured, lingering for a few moments before he took a step back. “Let’s go back to the house.”
You tried not to think about how cold you were the second he stepped away.
…
Things were starting to heat up with the Rangers deal.
Which, considering the faces of everyone in Nico’s study at that current moment, was incredibly fucking shocking.
“You’re actually going through with it?” Jesper was the one to speak first, staring at Nico with wide eyes. “I thought we were just entertaining them to see what they want.”
“Yes, and I listened and I agreed to it,” Nico said as he leaned back in his chair. “So we are going forth with the deal.”
“We have been fighting them for years,” Jack piped in, his brows furrowed together like he was trying to piece together a deal he didn’t even know the terms of fully. You weren’t even sure Nico knew the details of the deal yet.
“Exactly,” Nico nodded. “And look how much we have lost, both of us. It’s time to turn a new leaf.”
Jack flinched.
You pressed a hand between the blades of his shoulders, leaving it there until you could feel the boy slowly start to relax under your touch.
“This isn’t sustainable for either of us,” Nico continued, though it was softer this time. “We need to start thinking about what’s best for the Devils.”
“And buddying up with the Rangers is the solution?” Jonas asked, no judgement in his voice (yet). Just curiosity.
“Not just with them,” Nico admitted. “I want to start solidifying our relationships.”
And it was that exact reason that Nico decided to send you to Pittsburgh.
The members of the Steel City mob were not ones the Devils knew well, nor did they have much of a history with. It was good, in the sense that there was no awkward bad blood to get over (read: like the current Rangers deal Nico was trying to pull). But it also meant there was no reason for either group to want a relationship.
Not unless you were Nico Hischier and Sidney Crosby, suddenly interested in creating an alliance that would somehow benefit both groups involved.
It was weird travelling with John. Usually when Nico sent you on missions like this, you were alone. On the off chance you needed back up, it would be Timo or Dawson or Jack by your side. It should have felt unsettling to have John, but it was comforting.
It was comforting to know he had your back, that you didn’t have to spend the whole trip looking over your shoulder.
And it was better than when one of the others were with you. John let you take control, let you do the talking, let you sit across from Sidney and say what you wanted without trying to cut in or take over the conversation.
It was comforting but also such a mindfuck to know this was all from the same boy who practically avoided you until a few weeks ago.
Where was this John before?
All in all, the meeting went well. There was still a lot to discuss, to negotiate, to consider. But it was the start to an alliance between the Devils and the Penguins, a welcome and positive start. And that was more than enough for an overnight trip. Sidney had even been kind enough to offer a place in one of the countless establishments owned by the Penguins.
“Two rooms?” He said like it was a nicety, rather than a fact he already knew.
“One,” John corrected, his face remaining blank as he spoke. But there was a hint of ‘no further argument’ in his voice.
Sidney’s lips twitched upwards. “One it is, then.”
…
The hotel room was nice. More than nice, if you were being completely honest.
It felt far too fancy for a single night’s stay but you assumed the Penguins were wanting to keep the good relationship going, to show they were serious, to show how well they could treat those they shared a good alliance with. It felt more like a studio apartment than a hotel room.
And despite it all, there was only one bed.
It had taken around thirty minutes of arguing before John accepted that the bed was large enough for you both to share for the night. He had been insistent he could use the couch by the window, that it was big and comfy enough for him.
It made you want to scream.
You didn’t get it. You really didn’t fucking get it.
If someone had asked you a few months ago, you would have bet your life on the fact that John didn’t like you. He was clearly quite quiet and reserved, preferring to keep to himself. You would have assumed the reasons he stayed away from you were just that—that you were too loud, too out there, too flashy.
And then he became your bodyguard. And there were these moments where you thought you were seeing a different John, a John that you could get along with. A John that would maybe even be able to handle how loud and out there and flashy you were.
Until moments like this, moments where it felt like he would rather be anywhere but beside you. Where it felt like he was here out of obligation because of Nico’s orders.
“Why do you hate me?”
It had been over an hour since the two of you turned the lights off and settled down for the night. If you were being honest, you assumed he had fallen asleep a while ago but it still hadn’t stopped you from blurting the question out into the dark room, to get it off your chest before you felt like you would explode.
You hadn’t expected to feel him tense up beside you. You hadn’t expected him to still be awake.
“What?”
You remained silent.
You could hear shuffling from his side of the bed. You wondered if he was turning to face you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look.
“Candy,” John said, his voice heavy with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “What makes you think I hate you?”
“Because what else am I to think?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke. “You ignored me before this, before Nico told you to watch over me. You barely said three words to me in the years I have been here and—”
You cut yourself off. The silence remained for a few minutes and you wondered if he had genuinely fallen asleep in that time. You still couldn’t bring yourself to look.
“I don’t hate you,” John whispered. “I never did.”
You let out a shaky breath.
“You were just so…you,” John confessed. “It was intimidating. I guess I didn’t think I was interesting enough.”
You frowned. “What?”
“I never said my reason made sense,” John retorted and you couldn’t help but snort a little. “I promise that I never hated you, Candy. Nobody could hate you.”
You swallowed. “And I’m meant to believe that?”
“I would never lie to you,” John said confidently. “Never have and never will.”
“Okay,” you whispered as you reached your hand back. It took a few seconds of patting the space between you both before you found his hand and gave it a small squeeze. “I don’t hate you either.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“Goodnight, Johnny.”
“Goodnight, Candy.”
…
“We think we have found a link between the attacks.”
“We?”
“Apologies,” Nico corrected, letting out a sigh as Jesper glared at the side of his head. “Jesper thinks he has found a link.”
“It’s a guess,” Jesper admitted after a few moments as the lot of you surrounded the map that was currently sprawled out over the length of Nico’s desk. “But it’s better than nothing.”
“What makes you think they will even attack again?” Jonas questioned as he glanced between the circled locations with a frown.
“We don’t,” Nico answered.
“Well, we can assume they will try again considering none of the other attacks ended with what they wanted,” Jack spoke up, catching your eye as he sheepishly shrugged. “Sorry, Candy.”
Timo’s frown deepened.
“Each of these locations would fit their agenda,” Jesper said as he rapped his knuckles against the map before frowning. “If we have guessed their agenda correctly.”
“You will have,” you assured, squeezing the blond’s shoulder with a smile. “Good job, Bratter.”
“We are going to have these locations on a constant patrol for the next week,” Nico said, frowning down at the map like he was already organising the patrol schedule in his head (even though Jonas would be the one to have a printed and laminated version on the notice board in the foyer by that very evening). “We are due another attack soon, if these people are sticking to a schedule.”
“Dibs the club by the Italian place,” you spoke up, flashing Jack a grin where he let out an exaggerated groan. “Their garlic bread would be the perfect stakeout snack.”
Nico opened his mouth but Timo was already talking before he had the chance to say anything.
“What makes you think you’re a part of this?” Timo asked with a frown.
You raised your brows. “Maybe the fact I am in this room right now.”
“No,” Timo shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re not getting involved in this.”
“Timo—”
“You are one of their targets,” Timo gritted out between clenched teeth. “It would be fucking stupid to put you on patrol. We may as well hand you over on a silver platter.”
“You’re being dramatic,” you said. “I’ll be with John—”
“No, I am being realistic,” Timo corrected. “You’re staying behind. End of discussion.”
You could feel your temper starting to rise, feeling that itch under your skin that was biting to fight back. “What? You suddenly don’t trust John?”
“No, I don’t trust you,” Timo retorted, the muscles in his jaw clenching. “You’re a liability, Candy.”
You froze for a moment before scoffing. “Wow. Wow.”
To his credit, Timo did look apologetic the second the words settled in the room. “Candy, I didn’t—”
“What? You didn’t mean it?” You let out a humourless laugh, shaking your head. “No, you meant it, Timo. You meant it just like you meant it in San Jose and look where that got us.”
A look of hurt flashed across your brother’s face. “That’s not fair—”
“Whatever,” you gritted out, stepping back when he tried to reach you and turning on your heel before anyone else had the chance to say anything. You turned and walked towards the door and kept walking, blood roaring in your ears and tears welling in your eyes with every step.
…
“Got room for one more?”
John didn’t wait for your response as he settled down on the spot beside you. He glanced around, letting out a hum of amusement as he took in the full brunt of your wardrobe. It had been its own room at one point, before you had taken it over and connected it to your bedroom. Now, it was full of rails and shelves bursting with clothes and shoes in so many colours that John was surprised his head didn’t hurt the second he walked in.
He leaned back against one of the set of drawers, laughing a little when he felt a couple of feathers brushing against the back of his neck. “Do you actually wear feather boas?”
Your lips twitched upwards. “I got them when Luke and Curtis bet fifty bucks that I didn’t have them ‘in my collection’.”
John smiled a little. “So you have them to help Luke in a bet?”
You shot him a look. “Don’t be silly, I was helping Curtis win the bet.”
John did laugh this time, a proper laugh that caught you by surprise. Not that he seemed put off by the way you were blatantly staring at him. Instead, he nudged his shoulder against yours and just smiled.
Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned your head against his shoulder.
“Do you want to talk about it?” John asked in a soft voice.
“I just…” You trailed off, trying to find the words to describe everything racing on inside your head. “I was just so pissed off and he wasn’t listening to me and I…I knew it would hurt. I wanted it to hurt.” You paused. “Does that make me a bad person?”
“Maybe,” John whispered. “But I don’t think he was a great person at that moment either.”
“I know the San Jose stuff upsets him,” you whispered, pressing your cheek further into the fabric of his shirt until his cologne and the vague scent of fabric softener was the only thing you could focus on. “He regrets it every day. He regrets that he left me behind that day, that he thought I was too much of a liability to go away with him.”
John pressed his cheek against the top of your head. “What happened in San Jose wasn’t your fault or his. It was them. It was the Sharks and their twisted morals over there and—”
“I’m his sister and I almost died because of a decision he made,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you spoke. “He will always blame himself, even if no one else thinks it. Even if he is the reason I’m alive now and we got out of there.”
John didn’t say anything.
“Just like I will always blame myself for trusting them blindly,” you muttered, swallowing the words that felt like they were stuck in the back of your throat. “I forgot the basic rules of this life. I forgot then and I forgot when I was at Peter’s when the attack happened and—”
“Candy,” John murmured, his arm winding around your body and pulling you further into his side. “It wasn’t your fault.”
You pressed your face further into him, your tears beginning to soak the shirt he was wearing but he didn’t care.
“You’re a force to be reckoned with, Candy,” John continued, his lips pressed against the top of your head as he left a lingering kiss. “None of it was your fault.”
You stayed silent.
“And you’re not a bad person. You’re allowed to get angry and upset. You’re allowed to lash out.” John pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Your brother loves you and nothing will ever change that.”
John held you in his arms as the two of you sat on the floor of your wardrobe. He held you as you cried and cried until you couldn’t anymore. He held you until keeping your eyes open was too much. And then he carried you to bed, taking his spot in your room and letting the silence settle over the room until the next morning.
The apology from Timo didn’t really come in the form of words, maybe because you and your brother both knew that more than words were needed. It was at the next Devils Sunday dinner. He didn’t say anything as he placed a box on your plate (a box you recognised with the logo of Peter’s Bakery) and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
“We will never let them win,” he murmured, the same words he whispered that fateful night in San Jose before the two of you escaped.
“Never,” you whispered back.
Timo just smiled, soft and genuine and just as forgiving as it was apologetic, before he settled down in his spot at the table.
He didn’t even say anything about John’s arm wrapped around the back of your chair for the duration of the whole dinner.
…
The days passed and still no attack came.
The deal with the Rangers was becoming more serious. Not that you doubted Nico’s word at all. It was just…rivalry against the Rangers was all you had known. You heard whispers about them when you were on the west coast. You saw the extent of their violence when you and Timo fled to New Jersey.
It was hard to imagine a life where that violence wasn’t instigated, wasn’t retaliated against, wasn’t sought out.
“It will work.”
You raised your brows, watching the way Nico was nodding to himself as he glanced over the papers in front of him. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
Jack snorted. “More like Jesper. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”
“He doesn’t trust them,” Nico corrected.
“And, to be fair, they have given us no reason to trust them,” you added.
“Just as much as they should trust us,” John deadpanned, once again refusing to sit down as he stood left to your chair.
“They need it as much as we do,” Nico pointed out.
“What stock could they possibly need from us?” You questioned, watching the way the boy paused before clearing his throat. Your eyes narrowed at your boss, like it would be enough to see the thoughts whirling around in his head. “Nico, what did you agree to?”
Nico let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “A marriage.”
Jack blinked.
“A marriage?” You repeated, hissing. “Are you crazy? You want to join us to them forever like that?”
“It’s an alliance, Candy,” Nico stated simply. “The idea is that it would be long lasting.”
“But a marriage, Nico,” you shook your head. “They wouldn’t just accept a random marriage, not unless Trouba thought he could find a way to get into the top circle. Who did you offer up?”
“Why? You offering yourself?” Jack asked, his lips twitching upwards.
But the joke fell flat when John stepped forward, stepped closer to you. “No. She’s not.”
Your eyes widened a little at the biting tone in his voice. “Hey—”
“You are not marrying any of them,” John gritted out through clenched teeth. “I refuse.”
“You refuse?” You repeated, your head tilting as you turned to look at the boy in disbelief. “Pretty sure it’s my decision, Johnny.”
“Yeah, Johnny,” Jack said, his eyes glittering in amusement. Not that you could see it, with your focus now turned to the other boy. But John could see it. He could see it and could see the way Jack was actively holding back his laughter. “If Candy wants to marry one of Trouba’s men, then who are we to stop her?”
John’s jaw clenched, an emotion you couldn’t quite read shining in his eyes. “No.”
Nico sighed deeply.
Jack snorted. “You’re not even being subtle about it, bud.”
You whirled around. “Subtle about what?”
Jack simply lifted his hands in mock surrender.
You turned back to look at John, a mix of emotions flooding through you when he failed to meet your eyes. “I thought you never lied to me.”
“I’m not lying,” John said, his eyes locked on Jack, who was beaming in response.
“No, he’s just omitting to tell the truth,” Jack retorted.
“Jack,” Nico said in a warning voice.
“Oh, come on,” Jack whined, turning to pout at the older boy. “We all know John is just—”
“Enough,” Nico interrupted, shaking his head. “Go to Peter’s.”
Jack frowned. “What?”
“I’m telling you right now to go stake out at Peter’s tonight,” Nico said—or, more accurately, commanded. “I want you to stick to the post for the rest of the night.”
Jack opened his mouth to argue but noted the glare Nico was sending him and—smartly—decided to keep his mouth shut. He glanced between you and John, muttering something under his breath before he jumped off his spot on the desk and made his way towards the door.
“And just to be clear,” Nico spoke up before Jack could leave the room. “Candy is not the one marrying a Ranger. None of you are.”
John’s brows furrowed together. “So who is?”
“Me.”
…
You hadn’t said a word to John since the two of you left Nico’s study.
It was one thing to make a deal with the Rangers. It was another for that deal to include an arranged marriage, something that seemed so archaic and old-fashioned for Nico’s taste. But for Nico himself to be involved? To tie himself to the Rangers in such a way?
It was fucking mind-blowing.
You could only imagine the kind of girl the Rangers would offer to play the part of Nico Hischier’s wife.
But despite the revelation, your mind was reeling for a very different reason. And said reason happened to be just behind you, dressed in all black (no surprise there) and looking like a damn kicked puppy at the silent treatment you had been giving him.
John watched you with careful eyes as you swung the door to your bedroom open, barely acknowledging the small ‘ooft’ he let out when the rebound of the door almost hit him in the face.
“Candy–” John started the second the door clicked shut behind him.
But you barely gave him the chance to continue, already spinning around on your heel to glare at him. “Do not even try it.”
“I meant what I said when I told you I would never lie to you,” John said, staying rooted in his spot even though his stomach twisted at the hurt written across your face. “I have never lied to you. I swear on my life.”
You watched him for a few moments, a muscle in your jaw ticking before you asked him something that completely caught him off guard.
“Why did you take this job?”
John blinked. “What?”
“Why did you take this job?” You repeated, keeping your eyes locked on him as you took a step closer.
“You know why,” John said, swallowing harshly. “You were a target and Nico appointed me as your bodyguard—”
“That’s not the only reason,” you said bluntly. “There is more to it. You know it. Jack knows it. Hell, everyone but me seems to know it. So what is the reason?”
John let out a breath. “I can’t tell you.”
You took another step towards him, eyes narrowed in determination. “Can’t or won’t?”
John could feel his chest tightening. “Candy, please.”
“You may not have been lying before but you weren’t telling me the truth,” you questioned, pausing when you were right in front of him. “Why did you take this job?”
John shook his head.
“John,” you rasped. “Tell me.”
He kept shaking his head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it will change nothing!” John frowned a little, clearing his throat as he lowered his voice. “Because I can’t do anything about it.”
You blinked, confused. “What?”
“Can we please just drop this?” John whispered, his voice cracking a little.
“No,” you shook your head, determined. “What won’t it change?”
John pressed his lips together.
You sighed. “Johnny—”
“Us,” John finally muttered out. “It won’t change us. It won’t change how I feel about you. It won’t change the fact that you’re you and you’re Timo’s sister and I shouldn’t want you but I really fucking do and—”
“Kiss me.”
John blinked, stuttering over his choked breath. “Candy, you don’t mean that.”
“Did I stutter?” You retorted.
“We can’t,” John tried again, but you could see his resolve crumbling. You could see the way his eyes dropped to your lips, the way they lingered on your mouth.
“Says who?” You asked, watching as the boy failed to find a response. “Kiss me, Johnny.”
John waited one, two, three seconds before he surged forward, before his hands cupped your face and his lips were pressed against yours with a passion you had never experienced before. You barely had a chance to grip his shirt before he was tugging you closer, before he was tilting his head and deepening the kiss and moaning against your lips like it was the hottest thing he had ever done in his life.
In some ways, it was.
Years of fantasies and feelings and thoughts and dreams lead to this moment. Years of John keeping his feelings hidden, keeping them locked away, thinking he never stood a chance. Years of him hopelessly pining and wanting and wishing. Years of just loving you just how you were.
His fingers entangled themselves in your hair, tilting your head to match his pace as his other hand slid down to wind around your waist and pull you closer. He heard the little gasp you let out, felt the way you fisted the fabric of his shirt, listened to the little breathless ‘Johnny’ you sighed against his lips.
He felt feral.
He hadn’t even noticed you slowly leading him deeper into the room, step by step, until your knees hit the back of the bed and you were dragging him down with you. Only then did the last few minutes seem to hit him like a freight train. He pushed up onto his elbows, chest heaving with soft pants and face flushed as he stared down at you.
“Candy—” He started but you quickly placed your finger over his lips..
“I want this. I want you. I don’t want to hear whatever noble bullshit you have been telling yourself to hold yourself back. I just want you, Johnny,” you said, breathing heavily as your eyes lingered on his kiss-swollen lips before returning to meet his gaze. “If you don’t want this, then I get that. But only if you don’t want this. Nothing to do with my brother or some bullshit sense of morality or the rest of this damn house.”
John swallowed, lifting one hand to slowly push some hair away from your face and tuck it behind your ear. You waited with a bated breath, watching as his eyes took in every single detail of you before he leaned down to kiss you—sweeter, softer than before.
“I want you more than you could ever know,” he whispered against your lips, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he spoke.
“Kiss me again,” you murmured, pushing your cheek further into his touch.
“Whatever you want, Candy,” John murmured before leaning down to kiss you again.
…
The attack happened three days later.
It was anticipated, just not on a warehouse you were expecting. The knowledge that the pattern you thought you had noticed was actually false laid heavy on all your shoulders, as the realisation of something much bigger than any of you were anticipating settled. This went beyond a few targeted attacks, this went beyond you.
This was the start of a war, and even if none of you wanted to say it out loud, you were all thinking it.
“What now?” Jack asked as you all stood around Nico’s study, staring helplessly at the map laid out on Nico’s desk.
“We prepare ourselves,” Nico said, his voice sounding heavy and tired. You didn’t even blame him. He had been keeping on a confident front, letting the others think that they had this all under control because he couldn’t spiral. He couldn’t let them all think there was a reason to panic. You could only imagine how much harder it was getting with each passing day, with each attack.
Jesper raised his brows. “So you’re breaking the deal with the Rangers?”
“No,” Nico shook his head, letting out a long sigh. It had been a recurring argument between the two of them for the last few weeks. “If this means what we think it means, it would be more beneficial to us to have the Rangers as allies.”
“Unless they are the ones behind it,” Jesper retorted.
“I’m going through with the deal and that’s final,” Nico said, raising his voice a little. It wasn’t a lot. But it was enough for everyone else in the room to fall silent. “And if you keep being pissy about it, I’ll make sure you sit next to Timo at the wedding.”
Jesper gaped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Nico’s eyes glimmered. “But I would.”
“Woah, why is that a bad thing?” Timo scoffed, looking between the two of them with a frown. “I’m a fucking delight.”
Suddenly, everyone else looked away.
Timo’s frown deepened. “What? What is everyone not telling me?”
It was at that very moment Luke walked through the door, foil packet rustling loudly as he shoved his hand in it and kicked the door closed behind him. He paused when he noted the tension in the room, glancing between everyone with pinched eyebrows.
“Damn, I didn’t know getting snacks for a team meeting was illegal.”
“Rusty!” Timo whirled around, his eyes gleaming. “Did they tell you too?”
“Tell me what?” Luke questioned before his eyes widened. “Oh shit, they told you John finally grew a pair and made a move on Candy? Huh, you’re much calmer than I—”
“JOHN DID WHAT?!”
Luke paused, his lips parting in realisation. “Oh. Whoops.”
Timo whirled around to look at you and then John, seeming to finally notice the arm the boy had wrapped around your waist. He gasped loudly, shaking his head as he placed a hand on his chest.
“And you all fucking knew? Oh god, the betrayal! It hurts! It physically hurts!”
“I am not sitting beside that at the wedding,” Jesper said, shaking his head. “Look how dramatic he is being!”
“He will mellow out by the wedding,” Nico responded, looking far too amused by the theatrics playing out in the middle of his study.
“It’s Timo. When the fuck as he ever mellowed out?” Jesper retorted with a scoff.
You turned to find John watching your older brother with a pinched expression. It would have made you snort if you couldn’t feel the way he was gripping your hips, like he was ready to put you between him and your dramatic brother.
“Welcome to the family, Johnny.”
John’s nose scrunched. “I take it all back.”
You snorted. “Too late. No returns. You’re stuck with me.”
“It’s not you I want to return,” John retorted, pulling you closer to him. “I’d do it all over again if I could be stuck with you for the rest of my life.”
“Sap,” you grinned, looking far too pleased with his admission. “Even if you have to take on my brother?”
John’s eyes softened as he turned to look at you. “Nothing could scare me away from you, baby. Nothing.”
You beamed. “Good, because you have about thirty seconds before Timo realises he has free will and a gun in his left holster.”
There was a lot that was uncertain about the future, but you were pretty damn confident that John Marino was not one of them.
.
#john marino#nhl#john marino x reader#john marino x you#john marino x y/n#john marino fic#john marino one shot#nhl x reader#nhl x you#nhl x y/n#nhl fic#nhl one shot
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Could we get something with chara for the valentine's day event. I was thinking either 8, 9 or 10 you decide. We need more content for her
Chara valentine's day prompts
Pairing:female chara dreemur x gn reader
A/n:I decided to use a different writing style than usual since I thought it fit better with the prompts
Prompts list
Prompt#9: giving her a hersey's kiss instead of a real one
Y/n:Hey Chara do you want a kiss?
Chara:no
Y/n:what? You always say you love them
Chara:Always is an exaggeration, I can't say I hate them but I don't need one every hour
Y/n:come on pretty please, just a small one
Chara:you're gonna bother me until I say yes aren't you?
Y/n:probably
Chara:[sighs] fine I guess your kisses are nice
Y/n:I knew you liked them!
Chara:whatever
Y/n:Close your eyes first
Chara:why? That's weird
Y/n:no its more romantic
Chara:you better not do something weird
Y/n:don't worry I think you'll quite like it
[Chara sighs again but closes her eyes and opens her mouth, waiting for your kiss]
Chara:come on hurry up
[You take the chocolate out of your pocket and put it in chara's mouth. She's surprised at first, but as soon as she recognizes the sweet taste, she starts chewing it with a smile on her face]
Y/n:so did you like that?
Chara:Yeah.....but what about the kiss
Y/n:That was it, I gave you a hersey's kiss, it's a type of chocolate
Chara:oh...........ok
Y/n:did you want one that bad~?
Chara:when you told me you were gonna give me a kiss I expected a kiss
Y/n:well I did give you one
Chara:fine, if you wanna play it like this then I'm gonna get the kiss myself
Y/n:what do you-
[Suddenly, chara takes you by the collar of your shirt and kisses you passionately on the lips]
Y/n:........wow
Chara:now that was a real kiss
Y/n:Do you....want more kisses
Chara:Yeah
Y/n:which ones?
Chara:both, I love both.....but I guess yours are a bit better
Y/n:[giggle]:I'm glad you love me more than chocolate
Chara:obviously, would I kill someone for chocolate?
Y/n:yes actually, you very much would
Chara:come on, I'm better than that
Y/n:if you say so........wait were you implying you'd kill someone for me
Chara:did I stutter?
Prompt#8:feeding chocolate covered strawberries to each other
[Chara walks over to you eating a chocolate bar looking angry]
Chara:hey y/n, what happened to the chocolate bars in the fridge
Y/n:what do you mean? They're still there
Chara:no I brought 8, like 3 of them are gone
Y/n:......you eat way too much chocolate
Chara:just answer my question
Y/n:I melted it and made chocolate fondue
Chara:......what's that?
Y/n:Are you serious? You're obsessed with chocolate and don't know what chocolate fondue is?
Chara:I'm allowed to not know stuff, but I'm curious now what is it?
Y/n:it's just melted chocolate that you put in a bowl and dip stuff in
Chara:that actually sounds pretty good, can I have some
Y/n:yeah sure, I made it for us anyway
[You take a strawberry,dip it in the fondue and hold it over her mouth]
Y/n:People usually do it with strawberries, so here you go
Chara:I can eat it myself
Y/n:but i made it for valentine's day, it's more romantic like this
Chara:......you are so lucky I love you and chocolate
[She eats the strawberry and hums in happiness as her eyes sparkle]
Chara:wow that's good and I don't even like strawberries normally
Y/n:yeah, you'd probably eat a shoe if it was covered in chocolate
Chara:no seriously try it
[Chara dips a strawberry in the chocolate and shoves it in your mouth]
Y/n:....oh yeah, that is really good
Chara:see?
Y/n:i could have done without the force feeding though
Chara:I thought you said it was romantic
Y/n:You shoved it in my mouth how is that romantic?
Chara:whatever
[Chara looks at the fondue and the chocolate bar in her hands with determination in her eyes]
Chara:what do you think would happen if I dipped the chocolate bar into chocolate?
Y/n:diabetes, I think you'd get diabetes
Chara:.........worth it
Y/n:WAIT CHARA NO!
#undertale x reader#undertale#chara x reader#chara undertale#female chara#x reader#female chara x reader#chara undertale x reader#chara dreemurr x reader#chara dremuur#chara#chara dreemurr#chara dremuur x reader#gn reader
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「 ✦ BOYFRIEND OF YOURS? ✦ 」
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/d79096f372868e2aab3a65650a914250/e70b8bcdf1ecec59-e6/s540x810/01626bb9f6bf9995c63e12b44e605100efddc89a.jpg)
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summary: chris keeps his promise to your dad and visits the office, and chris notices the little nerd who is utterly in love with you.
cw: name calling(?), jealousy
word count: 2.7k
masterlist | WFYL masterlist | more WFYL | join my taglist
PART TWO
it was 10:29am and you stood in front of the high ceiling windows of your office and just watched the city and everyone going about their day. you saw a mom and her two kids enter the indoor play place that wasn't too far from the office building, a few random teenagers skipping school, something you wish you would've done, many people walking their dogs. it was funny just how many dogs ran into each other and stared at one another, or just barked.
you were having a bit of trouble trying to understand the plot to the a new movie that was in the talks. you had many jobs here, you went to meetings to discuss new movie and show ideas, you helped with editing, you even went to a few shootings to supervise, and the most important of them all was having the final say in approving a movie or show.
the guy, peter ray, who pitched the idea sure that the movie would be a number one hit in theaters and across the nation, but you just didn't understand it. he wanted the movie to end on a cliffhanger and not have an actual ending. but you didn't like the idea of that.
not at all.
why make a movie and leave it on a cliffhanger with no part two to it? you knew that it would get bad reviews and not do well due to the word that will be surfacing around social media. it's a no. either he comes up with a good ending, or it's a no.
you turned around from the window and made your way to your desk. picking up the phone you rang your assistant. “hello ms. y/n. everything okay?” you hated when people called you ms.celestine, you preferred your name. “hi, franny. everything is fine. is there anyway you can contact mr.ray and have him come down here? a meeting is needed.”
you heard some shuffling in the background and the sound of a printer beeping. “yeah, of course. i'll get to it right away.” she chirped, franny was always in a good mood even if it was a shit day and you had lost your patience and accidentally lashed at her. but you always apologized right away.
“thank you.” you said before cutting the call. you sighed, leaning against the backrest of your office chair. your phone that was set faced down on your desk buzzed
franny
mr.ray has agreed to come to the office. your meeting is at 11:30. anyone else's rather than mr.ray and his team i should contact ghat should attend the meeting?
you
no, no one else. thank you franny!
your father was tucked away in his office on the top floor, the very top floor. the last you heard from him was that he was doing some last minute deals and arrangements to set you up in the near future when you become ceo. even with the many, many times you told him you could handle it when the time came, he wouldn't budge.
deep into thought, there was a soft knock on your door. who could it be? you thought. “come in.” you mumbled, straightening your posture. as the door opened, you were met with oliver, an intern who was only two years younger than you, he had a shy smile on his face and gently closed the door behind him, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“sorry if i interrupted anything.” he blushed, he always did when he talked to you, or even looked at you. there was this one incident where you were trying to pass by and placed your hand on his bicep, the poor boy nearly creamed his pants. “you didn't, glad you took me out of my thoughts, though.” you chuckled, clearing your throat right after.
“what is it that y’need?” you asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before signing a form. “i was wondering if you'd-” a knock interrupted his sentence. “sorry, just a minute.” you told him. “come in!” you said out loud to the person who knocked.
franny walked in. “hey, i just came to drop these off. i-” she put a stack of papers on the corner of your desk, she then saw oliver and cut her sentence short. “oliver, is it okay if you step out for a minute? i have to talk to ms.y/n alone.” she gave him a lip tight smile.
oliver frowned and blushed. “oh- yeah, sure. i'll just talk to you l- later.” he scurried out.
“may i?” franny pointed to the chair in front of your desk. “go ahead.” you nodded. “so, mr.ray just called me back and he was kinda… mad. he really wants you to approve his idea, but i'm with you. a movie ending on a cliffhanger with no second part is kind of pointless—to me, that is.”
you sighed, you knew he'd have a hard time accepting the fact that you were on the verge on rejecting his idea. “i knew he'd be pissed. and yeah, a movie with no ending is fucking pointless. it's either he comes up with an actual ending to the movie or i'm going to have to say no. and he's grateful that i'm still giving him a chance. if it were my father, he'd shut the idea right down the minute he knew the idea for the end.”
franny nodded as you spoke. you and her had a great relationship. on days she wasn't needed in the office or random weekends, you two would go out for brunch or a coffee run and talk like friends. just like you and your dad, you separated your outside friendship and work relationship. in all honesty, she was like the sister you never had.
“i'm ready for this week to be over. want to hang out at my place saturday night? i could really use a gossip night.” you cracked a smile. “im there. i'll bring our favorite.” there was this one pizza place near your condo and if you could, you would eat it everyday for the rest of your life. “deal, i'll get the wine.”
you two chatted for a while more until franny had to go and take care of something. “good luck with peter, y/n.” she said before she left your office.
it had been a few weeks since he had last seen you. him and your father have exchanged a couple of emails here and there and eventually set up a date to where chris would visit the office.
and that was today.
he stood in his bedroom, fixing the collar that stool out from beneath his prada sweater. chris was excited to see you again even if he tried to avoid the thought of you for several reasons.
the night after the party, he thought about you in that dress all night. a little too much. you were definitely something.
he got into his car and began to drive to the office.
when chris arrived at the parking garage entrance, the garage door opened automatically and was met with a parking garage he had never seen before. the wall were a bright white, the floor wasn't the usual concrete floor, it was a sleek black one that the light reflected off of.
there was a booth up the makeshift hill with a man in a black suit. chris stopped the car and rolled his window down, lowing the music. “good morning, sir. you must be—” he took a look at a paper that was stuck to his laptop. “- chris sturniolo.” chris nodded. “that would be me, yes.”
“good, there's been a parking spot reserved for you. number three. it's just straight ahead near the elevators, and two cars that are hard to miss.” his arm directed into the direction of the spot. “thank you.” chris responded, slowly driving away.
it was true, the two cars parked in spots one and two were hard to miss. parked in spot one was an all black rolls royce, and parked next to chris, in spot two, was a white range rover. he turned into spot one, the only spot left. chris’ guess was that spot one and two were reserved specifically for you and your dad, but that was just a guess.
locking his car, he headed to the all glass elevator and pressed the up arrow. waiting a couple of seconds, the elevator dinged and the doors opened. inside, the small space was filled with classical music and shiny numbered buttons.
he pressed one.
as the doors opened back up again, he was met with a beautiful lobby. it was filled with natural light and beautiful structures. “good morning.” the lady at the front desk said. “hello, i'm here to meet with mr.celestine. i'm chris sturniolo.” he rested an elbow on the counter. “ahh, yes. i'll be right with you, mr.sturniolo.” she smiled, picking up the phone near her desk.
as she waited for her call to be answered, chris looked around the lobby and noticed that the tvs were playing their newest movie, violet, a thriller movie. he had watched it and thought it was an incredible movie. the actors, some of which also worked with his company for pr, were incredible.
“hey, it's pam from the front desk. mr.sturniolo has just arrived at the lobby. could you please take him to mr.celestines office?... thank you.” she returned the phone to its original spot. “alright, i have someone coming down to take you up to mr.celestines office. feel free to take a seat or have something from the snack bar.” she pointed over to a small room across the desk.
“thank you.” chris nodded, making a beeline towards the room. the room was quite big, almost like a mini kitchen. there were various vending machines—free vending machines, a see through fridge with various foods and snacks, and a table with even more snacks.
chris grabbed a bottle of water and scoped out the table of snack, he picked up a pack of skittles and put them in his back pocket. walking out of the room, he smiled at the lady sitting at the desk and made his way to one of the couches.
he waited a couple of minutes, finishing his water and candy. someone finally came to get him. “mr.sturniolo?” chris hears someone call out for him and he turns around.
“that's me.” he gets up. “great, i'm oliver. i’ll be taking you to mr.celestines office. follow me.” chris nods and follows behind him. in the elevator, chris speaks up. “so, how long have you been working here?” he looks over at the boy pushing his glasses up his nose.
“oh, i'm an intern. i've been here for almost a month.” the elevator door opens back up. “right this way.” oliver steps out first and points his arm to the right down the hall.
as they walk through the hallway, chris notices the many movie posters along the walls and various news headlines about celestine studios. movie of the year, #1 high grossing movie, celestine studios makes history winning all 6 nominations in one night, highest ranked movie, celestine studios has the most perfect scores on rotten tomatoes, and there were many more.
“impressive.” chris mumbles to himself, continuing to follow oliver. “here we are.” oliver announces as they stop in front of. door at the end of the hall. plastered on the wall is a golden sign that says ‘MR. CELESTINE: CEO’.
oliver picks his fist up and knocks on the door. they wait a few seconds before a voice is heard from behind the door. “come on in.” oliver opens the door and lets chris walk in first. “mr. celestine, mr. sturniolo is here.” your dad looks up from his laptop and claps his hands. “wonderful! thanks you, oliver. you're dismissed. chris- have a seat.”
oliver closes the door behind him and leaves. chris walks up to your dads desk and shakes his hand. “mr.celestine, it's nice to see you again.” he sits. “nice to see you too. so, what do you think of my building so far?”
“it's wonderful, really.” chris nods.
the two talk for a while, asking each other questions. “let's go visit my daughter, shall we.” you dad say, starting to get up from his chair. “sure.” chris hides his excitement at the mention of you. the two make their way down to the floor you're on.
“good afternoon, mr.celestine.” franny spots your dad and chris. “good afternoon, franny. this is mr. chris sturniolo.” your dad points to chris standing next to him. the two greet each other with a smile. “where is my daughter, we'd like to talk with her.”
“oh, she's in the fifth conference room. but, she's currently in a meeting with mr.ra-” he cuts her off. “thank you, franny.” they two walk away. as they approached conference room five, mr.celestine doesn't bother to knock and barges right in.
“—i'm sorry peter, i've given you options but you're not cooperating with me.” you look up and spot both your dad and chris. chris had never seen this side of you, obviously, in a business setting. “dad? excuse me for one second.” you excuse yourself, standing up to walk up towards the both of them.
chris looks over at the man sitting at the other end of the table who looks frustrated. “what's up… im kind of in a meeting.” chris could tell that you were frustrated as well. “hon, chris is here. remember at the party the other night? ‘said he was going to stop by.” you didn't remember. “oh- yeah. how could i forget.”
“just finish this up and meet us for lunch.” your dad patted your shoulder before turning around. “c’mon chris, let me show you some set mock ups.”
you went back to your meeting. “so, are you going to consider my options?”
finishing up the meeting that went well for you and not so well for peter ray, you were making your way to your office to wind down for a bit after that meeting. as you stepped out of the conference room, oliver spotted you. making his way over to you, chris got to you first .
“hey, doll.” he smirked. “hi, chris. nice to see you again.” oliver stopped a few feet behind the two of you, and chris spotted him, looking back into your eyes. “meeting went well?” he crossed his arms. “so-so.” you nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“how's lunch sound- just me ‘nd you? your dad had a last minute meeting. told me to hang with you, said you fun to be around.” oliver, just a few feet away from you two, was red in the face with fists by his side and storms off. “boyfriend of yours?” he nods at oliver who stomps to his mini office. “who?”
“glasses over there. looked like he wanted to kill me for talking t’you.” he chuckles. “oliver? no, not my boyfriend. he's a sweet kid though.” you had noticed here and there the lingering looks he gave you as you walked by him, or the fact that he did anything you told him to. you could ask him to step on a million thumbtacks and he'd do it.
“mm.” he nods, rolling his lips inside. “so, lunch?” he asked again. “uh- yeah. sure, let me just put this in my office.” you refer to your laptop and notebook in your arms. “of course. i'll come with.” he followed behind you. as the two of you walked by oliver, he sent him a petty wink.
“so, this is your office?” he says as you two enter the room. “yup, like it?” you ask smiling as you place down the items on your desk. you round the corner to grab your phone from the drawer. “yeah, s’nice.” he nods looking around before putting his eyes back on you and noticing that you're reaching for your wallet. “ah- ah. lunch is on me. leave that here.”
“you sure?” you look at him, opening the drawer to put your wallet in there. “i'm sure.” he confirms. “c’mon, i made reservations ahead of time. you like sushi?” chris asks, his hand hovering over the small of your back as you two walked out of your office. “love it.” you giggle.
chris turned his head and saw oliver glaring at him once more. chris only shrugged at him and waved to him.
he's going to be seeing chris a lot from now on.
☁️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ authors note ࿐ྂ
boring chapter :/ i promise we're getting closer to the juiciness😛
#୨⎯ wait for your love ⎯୧#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris x y/n#chris x reader#christopher sturniolo series#christopher sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo fluff#christopher sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo blurb#chris sturniolo headcanon#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo x reader#matt x y/n#matt x reader#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo blurb#matt sturniolo fanfic
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A Wanted Exchange
When I first met Oren I would never have thought where I'd end up with this beautiful twink. We ran into each other at a club, a loud and hectic joint that had many sweaty, dancing bodies pressed up against one another in pinkish lights. I was there, carving out a space with my broad shoulders and muscular frame.
And there was Oren. He wasn't intimidated by me. He was bold, swooping right into my space, and then he was upon me. Grinding against me, I could feel his lithe body almost flowing around me like water. But there was an aggression there, almost like he wanted to throw his weight around, boss and bully me. All 120 pounds of his tiny body.
I was intoxicated right then and there. I wanted him. At first I thought it was just in the typical carnal fashion. But I realize now it was so much more.
I took him home of course. We tangled togther far longer than expected. He tried to push and pull me in ways his body and tiny muscles just could not handle. I was gentle. I have always been something of a gentle giant.
Growing up my father was a harsh one, and forced me to play football from 7, and all throughout the rest of my school career. Even in college, it was verboten that I quit. I remember coming out, well after finishing my degree mind you, and how he coiled back in disgust. I was his manly son, his juggernaut of an athlete. But inside I always wanted something else.
Which brings me back to Oren. Our hookup was not the end of our interaction. He found my gentle nature endearing, as I in turn found his domineering ways attractive. I so desperately wanted to submit to him, but our physical dynamic was just too skewed. I couldn't help but toss him around if I wasn't careful. And he hated being on the bottom, or receiving.
After weeks of trying, we realized we weren't truly happy. And in the breakdown of our disappointment, we both admitted what we wanted. He lamented his tiny, perfectly lithe body. I too bemoaned my broad, powerful body. It wasn't to say we weren't proud of ourselves, both being healthy young men. Rather, it was a sort of melancholy about not being able to experience what the other had, and admittedly - we were so envious of.
And so, when the advertisements for a scientific study came out, asking for willing subjects to try a new technology... we jumped at it. It seemed like something from a science fiction novel, but the way the doctors explained it we were properly convinced it was real.
They asked us many questions about our health, our relationship, and then what we wanted. Over the weeks we were subjected to different tests, they asked us the question we both were secretly hoping they'd put forward.
"What if this is permanent?" The nasal-voiced doctor had asked. I was alone, Oren being interviewed in a different room. I'd learn later he responded much the same as I had. But when I responded, it was an enthusiastic confirmation - that would be perfectly fine.
The day of the procedure came, and we were inserted into coffin like tubes, our heads covered in wires and such that looked like what one might use for a brain scan. I suppose that was part of the procedure, anyways. After the all clear was given, it took moments for me to black out. And in that time we were out, it was nothingness... a void.
But when I awoke, everything was ALIVE. I knew what to expect, understanding that I'd be groggy from the anesthetic. However, I pushed through the fog in my excitement. I needed to feel it all. Even before they opened the tube, I was feeling my arms, my chest, and then my face. Nothing prepares you for the sensations. There is no earthly equivalent to it... awakening in another persons body.
What followed was euphoric. Despite the initial hiccups, like learning that your brain still thinks you have limbs longer than this new body, or forgetting you are significantly lighter and weaker. Limitations that I never had before were daunting, at first. But then I came to love them. I was finally free to be the person I always felt inside. A man with a body more aptly described as pretty, and not rugged. With fingers soft and supple, unblemished by years of tackling and tossing a ball.
Oren felt the same, in reverse. We were hesitant at first to resume our relationship. It wasn't right away that we tried anything, sexually. But the first interactions were indicative of our blossoming romance. He would take my new, delicate face in his - my former - rough hands. Guiding my lips to his, where he almost hungrily kissed me. His bear hugs engulfed me, at times sweeping me off my feet. I was the willing waif, powerless to stop it, but desperately wanting it.
When we did finally return to the bed, entangled in one anothers embrace, there was a sort of epiphany. The realization that we got exactly what we wanted, and that looking back - albeit not much of an issue before - was perished. We did not need to even question it - I NEEDED to be Oren. And he needed to be me.
As for all the other details, since we began dating, we assimilated into one anothers lives. Our families and friends were never made aware of what transpired in that experiment. And save a few follow up interviews and information gathering sessions, the deal was sealed. Oren and I were never happier with our lives than now, when in truth... we weren't living our lives, but one anothers. How freeing it was for us to become the thing we always wanted. And through that, to find love. It was strange to kiss my former face, but knowing it was Oren behind those eyes, and happier for it, made it all too easy to love him.
I'm never going back.
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It's been a bit since I've interacted with octopath so my stuff on these ships may be a little rusty but I'll argue for them anyway.
Castitio (Castti x Partitio)
Before the game even came out, I thought they'd be a silly couple. Lady who doesn't remember and guy bursting at the seems with kindness. I think they're got a neat dynamic, with Castti teasing him a bit but they get along and are friends. Some post canon hcs I have are that Partitio would help Castti set up an organization that produces medicine and teaches about it cause he loves her and he's got the funding anyway. Also I do think being exposed to the poison rain twice did stuff to Castti so I like to hc she's disabled post canon, being a wheelchair user due to muscle weakness, having very little lung capacity and CPTSD. Also not a disability but she has eczema-like purple splotches on her body. Sorry I needed an excuse to quickly mention my disabled Castti headcanons. While they're engaged, Partitio and Floyd work on completely renovating a house to accommodate all of Castti's needs, so like low counters she can reach while on her wheelchair, only one floor, wide doorways, blackout curtains so she can sleep during the day, etc. Castti keeps insisting that she doesn't need that much help and that she's navigating normal houses just fine but then she'd see all the accommodations in their new house and bawl for hours. She'd work less and take it easy post canon. Listen I just think they'd be a really cute couple. Castti patches up your broken arm then her husband comes in and starts cracking jokes and talking about affordable public transportation. I feel like I'm also forgetting a lot of stuff but oh well. I've got a few fics for them posted on ao3, account name: BigOrangeOnion
Ophikari (Ophilia x Hikari) (I also call them The Radiance (hollow knight reference and it makes sense for an au))
OKAY SO this ship started out as an au when the ot1 travelers were added to ot2 for that update last year. Basically, post canon, Hikari visits the arena whenever he's in Montwise. This time, he goes and there's some omega powerful warriors fighting ruthlessly and with no concern for themselves. He realizes it's because they've got some kinda of curse, similar to him with the shadow (I THINK that's what it was called).
So Hikari starts working on figuring out how to free them because their current existence seems miserable. The first he manages to free is Ophilia, by using light magic near her. The light magic makes her briefly remember who she was but it's enough for her to snap out of the mind control that she's been put under. She talks to Hikari and explains that her and her friends were mind controlled by a very weak but not quite dead Galdera, in attempts to conquer and gain more power so he could heal himself faster. So the two of them start working on freeing the other travelers together.
Along the way, they ofc fall in love. I don't remember an awful lot about them unfortunately but I implore anyone reading this to write stuff for them :]
Here's a little drawing I did of them together. I'd include Castitio drawings if I had any but I am not big on drawing ship art unfortunately.
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H'aanit x Cyrus x Castti (in a QPR!!! :3)
So this is probably the one I've explored the least purely because I never really shared it with anyone. I keep it to myself because of the amount of hyper specific and sad headcanons. But basically it was an au where I'd just mix and match travelers n stuff. Like just putting different travelers in different continents with weird team compositions cause I'm a big fan of aus and crossovers.
One of the ones I liked the most is where Castti leaves Solistia by herself to explore post canon because she's not very close with the other travelers and self isolates a little. This au starts out kinda sad cause of the focus on my hcs for various characters' mental illnesses. H'aanit is initially traveling alone but Castti joins her and they're a relatively quiet but very effective and productive duo. Later, Cyrus, Olberic, Primrose and Ophilia join. They all have their problems to work through and get through them together.
Castti has to deal with self worth and realizing that she's more than just the team healer.
H'aanit has always had anxiety around losing Z'aanta, which is really bad throughout the entire story so Castti often ends up calming her down during panic attacks and they get really close because of the mutual trust there.
Idk exactly how to describe Cyrus' problems but he's really jumpy and nervous and a little bit angry all the time because of being accused of, y' know, sleeping with a student. Yeah no I never understood why Cyrus wasn't that angry about it, even when I first played the game at age 10.
I think Cyrus is just dealing with the new found rage he constantly has. He had anger management issues as a kid but worked through them and they're just now coming back cause he's been thrown out of his home and people he used to be friends with think the worst of him and he's got no one but this new friend group he hardly knows. You get it.
The story is the three of them (and Olberic, Ophilia and Prim, but this post is about ships so I'll talk about them another time) as they deal with their mental health issues. Through helping each other with these very personal problems, they become very close and eventually decide to be in a qpr together. I think they'd just live relatively quiet lives in S'warkii cause Cyrus is too upset to return to Atlasdam and Castti isn't too keen on going back to Solistia after falling head over heels in love with two people in Osterra.
I don't remember way too much for this au unfortunately. I think they should all cuddle and finally get a good night's sleep for once cause no way a single one of those bitches sleeps well with the crap they see and have experienced.
Sorry I wrote so much. Here is a little drawing based on an Olberic chapter 2 travel banter and the most important H'aanit fact.
I miss octopath yapping with people so uh yknow what! We’re gonna play a game!!
Explain in the notes what y’all’s favorite ships are and why you like them!!!
Only rules are
1) do not explain why everyone should think your ship is canon, as that is not the point of this post 2) do not put any other ships down bc that is also not the point of this post 3) ALL games are included (yes including cotc) 4) ANY SHIPS ARE ALLOWED!!! GO NUTS!!!!
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Could I maybe a request a “Ateez and their toxic traits/red flags”? And if you don’t it’s fine!! Anyway love your works<33
Thank you so much for your request! I hope you'll like it <3
ateez and their toxic traits/red flags
headcanon, angst
gn!reader x bf!atz
wc. ~0.8k
an: you can request headcanons if you want to!! if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3
masterlist
hongjoong
you plan a cute movie night, but hongjoong gets caught up in his studio. when you remind him, he sighs and says, “just give me another hour,” but three hours pass and he’s still not done.
-the perfectionist leader
-he can be overly controlling, always needing things to go his way. if something doesn’t align with his vision, he might micromanage or get frustrated
-he sometimes prioritizes his work and ambitions over his relationships, which can leave you feeling second place to his career
-despite his flaws, Hongjoong will always go out of his way to show you how much he cares once he realizes his behavior has hurt you. he’ll write you a heartfelt letter or dedicate a whole day to making you feel loved.
seonghwa
you tease him about not cleaning the kitchen properly, and instead of laughing it off, he quietly stops talking to you for the rest of the evening, overthinking if he’s not “good enough.”
-silent overthinker
-seonghwa tends to bottle up his feelings, choosing to remain quiet instead of addressing problems. this can lead to misunderstandings or passive-aggressive behavior
-he has impossibly high standards for himself and, sometimes unintentionally, for you too. ee may subtly push you to be "perfect"
-when he realizes he’s being unfair, seonghwa will open up more, offering sincere apologies and sweet, thoughtful gestures to show he’s working on himself
yunho
you bring up something that’s been bothering you, and yunho jokes, “oh, come on, it’s not a big deal! we’re fine!” but you can sense he’s avoiding the conversation.
-mr. nice guy complex
-yunho can sometimes suppress his own feelings to keep the peace, which can result in resentment building up over time
-he’s overly optimistic, brushing off serious issues with humor or positivity instead of addressing them head-on
-his warm-hearted nature means he’ll do anything to make you laugh and feel better. he’ll sit down and have a serious conversation once he realizes the importance of addressing things
yeosang
you have a small argument, and while he doesn’t yell or fight back, he quietly distances himself for days, leaving you confused.
-yeosang can be emotionally unavailable at times, keeping his walls up and making it hard for you to understand what he’s really feeling
-he has a tendency to hold grudges and doesn’t easily forgive, even if he doesn’t outright show it
-when yeosang lets his guard down, he’s incredibly attentive and sincere. he’ll work on opening up and showing you just how much you mean to him
san
you’re chatting with a mutual friend, and san playfully but obviously interrupts, draping his arm around you and saying, “hey, don’t forget about me over here.” he brushes it off as a joke, but you can tell he’s a little serious.
-attention seeker
-san can get jealous or possessive when he feels he’s not the center of your attention. he loves being adored and might pout or act out if he doesn’t get it
-he sometimes tests your boundaries to see how far you’ll go to prove your affection for him
-san is quick to realize when he’s being unfair. his apologies are as dramatic as his personality, and he’ll shower you with affection to make it up to you
mingi
he sees you talking to someone on your phone and later asks, “was that a friend? you seemed… really close.” when you reassure him, he says, “i trust you, but I just… tend to overthink sometimes.”
-mingi’s tendency to overthink can lead to unnecessary doubts or insecurities in the relationship. he may read too much into small things
-he has moments where he can retreat into his own world and become distant without explaining why, leaving you feeling unsure
-mingi’s love language is reassurance. once he’s calmed down, he’ll open up and let you in, making sure you feel secure in the relationship
wooyoung
during a playful argument, he blurts out, “well, at least i’m not as annoying as you!” the moment the words leave his mouth, he knows he messed up.
-wooyoung’s fiery personality means he can be impulsive, saying or doing things in the heat of the moment that he later regrets
-he has a competitive streak that can sometimes turn into unnecessary comparisons or playful jabs that might sting
-wooyoung is the king of dramatic apologies, complete with puppy eyes and endless affection. he’ll always go above and beyond to make you laugh again
jongho
you tell him about a bad day at work, and instead of comforting you, he says, “well, maybe you should handle it differently next time.” his words sting, even though he’s trying to be practical.
-jongho can be incredibly stubborn, refusing to admit when he’s wrong or refusing to budge in an argument
-he has a tendency to be overly blunt, which can come off as insensitive even if he doesn’t mean it that way
-jongho’s love language is acts of service. he might not say the words “I’m sorry” outright, but he’ll go out of his way to show you he’s sorry through thoughtful gestures and his unwavering support
taglist: @dinossaurz @soso59love-blog @tiredlittlevirgo @everythingboutkpop @engentiny @abibliolife @k-zuzu @ateezswonderland @oc3anfloor
#ateez#ateez headcanons#hongjoong headcanon#seonghwa headcanon#yeosang headcanon#yunho headcanon#san headcanon#mingi headcanon#wooyoung headcanon#jongho headcanon#ateez imagine#ateez headcanon#ateez x reader#hongjoong x reader#seonghwa x reader#yeosang x reader#yunho x reader#san x reader#mingi x reader#wooyoung x reader#jongho x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez fic
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closure
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0183c0a22a9b247fd0f3aff2bb9d85a6/8318d4203ae1dc4f-03/s640x960/08777d3fbc9d0959ebd5a27f4c223fa570bb4595.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/4e832df062da27d92adbd4bdb6ef98e4/8318d4203ae1dc4f-e0/s540x810/60426941248b54e58fa0dbe731dbc3b68cca35aa.jpg)
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x ex!reader
Summary: you don't need Carlos' closure.
Word count: 2k+
Warnings: angst, based on the Taylor Swift song
A/N:
This my third fic for the folkmore series, and it is with none other than Carlos Sainz! This is my first time writing for him so I was quite nervous, please tell me what you think!
English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.
Happy reading xxx
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.
It arrives in your inbox at 2:17 AM, the timestamp almost mocking the stillness of the night. The world outside is quiet, the kind of silence that fills your room with its weight, pressing against your ribs as if the very air knows what’s coming.
The email subject line is simple.
Just wanted you to know.
For a moment, you just stare at it. The words are innocuous, almost casual, but your heart knows better. You’ve seen that phrase before—at least in the way it echoed in your mind, in the way you tried to convince yourself you’d be fine without any more explanations.
And for some reason, you already know what it’s about. You don’t need to open it to feel the heavy, familiar knot tightening in your stomach. The ache in your chest that had dulled over time, the one you had worked so hard to ignore, throbs with renewed intensity, as if it’s alive and remembering the shape of old wounds. It’s as though your body recognizes him before your mind even does, and it reacts accordingly—a reflex you can’t outrun.
Your hands tremble slightly, the familiar sensation of fear and longing mixing in your veins, but you can't bring yourself to look away. The old ache becomes a weight in your throat, too, and for a moment, you're almost paralyzed by the gravity of it. You know this isn’t just a message. This is a door opening, an invitation to face something you buried deep. But you click on it anyway, drawn in by something you can’t explain, a part of you still hoping that maybe—just maybe—this will be the thing that makes it all make sense.
I just wanted you to know I hope you're doing well. I know things ended messy between us, and I hate that. I really do. I never wanted to hurt you, and I know that I did.
I’m sorry for how I left. For not saying enough. For saying too much. For everything in between.
I hope you’re happy. I really do.
- Carlos.
The words stare back at you, flat on the screen, sterile and detached. They sit there like a sentence of finality, as if they’re not even meant for you, but for someone who doesn’t carry the weight of your history with him. It’s just an email—another digital scrap of text sent into the void of the night. But after everything, after all that’s passed, this is what he gives you? Does he think that you’re just a situation that needs to be handled? A string of hollow words with no breath behind them, no warmth, nothing that even remotely resembles the person you once knew. No, not even that. The person you thought you knew.
It was almost ironic how the shape of his name still spelled out pain. Every letter, every syllable, carried a weight that dug deep, as if each time you thought of him, the wound reopened. It was strange, how someone you once loved could still manage to hurt you, even in their absence. Everything about him—his words, his actions, even his silence—had caused so much damage that it was honestly a little concerning.
You hated him. No, despised him. The anger simmered under your skin like a constant burn, always just beneath the surface, ready to erupt. The audacity he had, the way he thought he could just walk away, leaving destruction in his wake—it was almost unbelievable. He was wrong in so many ways the day he broke up with you. The way it all went down, how he acted like it was the easiest thing in the world, how he twisted every word you’d said into something it wasn’t—it was wrong, all of it. And by the looks of it, he probably knew by now. He had to. The way time had passed, the way people talked, the way you’d changed—he had to know the damage he’d done.
Your mind replays the last time you saw him. You can still picture it so vividly—the way he had stood in the doorway of your apartment, arms crossed over his chest like a shield, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t read. He looked smaller somehow, the exhaustion wearing him down, hanging off of him like a second skin, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet he couldn't find it in himself to care about you anymore. The lines in his face were deeper, like time had been more unforgiving to him than you ever realized. The way his jaw clenched so tightly when you had begged him to just talk to you, that desperate plea falling from your lips like a prayer, but he wouldn’t listen. His silence had cut deeper than anything he could have said. The way he hadn’t looked back when he walked away. Not once. Not a single glance. Like you didn’t exist. That was when you realized he had put a distance between you two ages ago that you were finally seeing—a sea you were too tired to cross.
The door had clicked shut behind him with a finality that shattered you into pieces you weren’t sure you could ever put back together. That sound—the click of the lock—wasn’t just the end of a visit, but the end of everything. The end of any future you thought you’d have together. You didn’t just lose him in that moment. You lost the life you’d built around him. And you’ve been trying to rebuild ever since.
And now, months later, this. This email. A quiet, late-night message, sterile in its simplicity, like he was trying to offer a neat little bow to wrap up the wreckage he left behind. But there’s no ribbon to tie, no neatness to this. What he gave you wasn’t closure—it was a reminder that, for all his talk of wanting to make amends, he’s still incapable of meeting you where you need him.
You slam your laptop shut, too quickly, too harshly, as if the words might physically reach out and strangle you if you don’t. For a moment, your fingers linger on the lid, shaking, the intensity of your pulse drowning out the quiet hum of the city outside. The night has become suffocating, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the email, or because you’re finally confronting what you’ve been trying to ignore for so long. The pain hasn’t gone anywhere, and neither has the ache. It sits with you like an old friend, one you can’t seem to shake.
It’s almost laughable, really. You can’t help but chuckle bitterly to yourself as you stare at the screen. He thinks he’s giving you closure. That this carefully constructed email, this rehearsed apology, is supposed to fix something, to heal the rift that’s been eating away at you for months. That it will somehow mend the fractures in your heart as if it’s something that can be neatly patched up with a few well-chosen words. But the truth is, it doesn’t even come close. No, this isn’t closure. This isn’t even an attempt at healing—it’s just an afterthought, a last-ditch effort to clear his conscience without ever truly facing the damage he caused. And it’s almost insulting.
Closure isn’t an email at 2 AM, casually dropped into your life as though he’s just checking off a box. It isn’t a collection of words stripped of warmth, void of real feeling, written at a distance, with no regard for the time, or the place, or the person it’s supposed to reach. Closure would have been a conversation. A real one. A face-to-face moment where he would have stayed, where he would have stayed long enough to listen, to hear you, and not just walk away the moment it got hard. That would have been closure. But he didn’t stay. He left you behind with nothing but the echoes of your unanswered questions.
Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you struggle to steady yourself. You take a deep breath, but it shudders on the way in, uneven and sharp. It feels like your lungs are betraying you, like they can’t hold the air in anymore, and you’re left gasping in the void between anger and heartache. Your throat is thick with unshed tears, but you refuse to let them fall. Not again. Not for him. You’ve cried enough tears for him already, enough for a lifetime. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this anymore, that you wouldn’t let him be the reason you hurt.
You want to reply. You want to scream, to let him know how deeply he’s failed you, how his absence is still an open wound, festering in the corners of your mind. You want to tell him that, even now, you still wake up in the middle of the night, expecting to hear his voice, expecting to feel the weight of his arm around your waist. You still reach for him in the dark, your fingers grasping at air, and you realize too late that he’s not there. You want to tell him that every time you see red—Ferrari red, that damn red, the color of his car, of everything he used to be to you—you feel like you might break all over again, like all the pieces you’ve tried to pick up and put together have shattered into even smaller bits.
But he's not Ferrari red anymore. He's Williams blue now. You’d probably be a new wrinkle in his life, a person who wouldn’t fit. Heck, you didn’t even fit when he was in Ferrari. You could answer him back, tell him you forgave him, that you both could be friends again. Maybe that would iron everything out nicely.
But you won’t. You won’t give him that satisfaction. You won’t give him the power to pull you back into this mess, into this space where you lose yourself every time you think about him. He doesn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to let him keep doing this to you.
The frustration, the hurt, the unanswered questions—they all feel like they're swirling in a storm that won't quiet. You crawl into bed, pulling the blankets around yourself as if they could offer the protection your mind and heart desperately crave.
You are fine. Everything is fine. You had your beers, your occasional crying sessions, your candles. You were doing so much better without him. You had to.
It cut deep, knowing him, all the way to the bone. The breakup had been necessary. It had to be. You were healing, getting better, moving on. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.
But the ache in your chest and the rapid, shallow breaths you couldn't control told a different story. It was one you knew the ending to but didn’t want to face. His email was oh so unnecessary, cruel even. He had broken up with you months ago, and yet here he was again, trying to reach back into your life. He shouldn’t have contacted you. He should’ve left you alone.
And you definitely should’ve stayed in bed.
Hatred and regret twisted inside of you, each trying to take the lead, but you were too exhausted to figure out which was winning. Still, you knew you had to respond.
Your gaze lingered on the laptop screen for what felt like hours, your mind scrambling for the right words, something that could strike him, something that would hurt, something that would linger with him forever the way he had lingered in your life. But nothing came.
Instead, what you found was something deeper—something far more painful.
Acceptance.
Acceptance was the true winner in the battle between your emotions. It was the thing you’d been running from, the thing you’d fought so hard to avoid. You had accepted it.
It was over.
So, with a steady hand, you typed the final words you’d ever send him and blocked his email so he could never contact you again.
"I don’t need your closure."
#carlos sainz#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz x female reader#carlos sainz x fem!reader#carlos sainz x yn#carlos sainz x ex!reader#carlos sainz angst#angst#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz f1#carlos sainz fanfiction#carlos sainz one shot#carlos sainz fic#carlos sainz fic rec#f1 imagines#f1#f1 x reader#formula one#formula 1#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#f1 one shot#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#formula one fic#cs55#cs55 x reader
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𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐀 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐈𝐝𝐞𝐚, 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?
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Warning(s): Swearing.
Plot: Damon and Y/N get away to Iceland on a whim and share a private and intimate moment.
Word count: 1.8K
A/N: Hope the person who requested it likes it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The idea came out of nowhere—really.
Damon came back from the studio, catching me in the middle of eating some left-over spaghetti from last night, watching some program on the television.
“Hey,” Damon set his bag on the coffee table before settling beside me on the couch with a large plop and an exaggerated sigh.
“Hi,” I laid a soft kiss on his cheek, tuning down the volume. “How was work?”
“Work?” Damon rose a brow, slouching into the sofa with a teasing smirk. “You make it sound like a real job.”
“It is, Blur’s no joke. Anyway, how was it?”
“It was fine, the usual.” Damon chuckled. “Figured the day’s got better now that I’m with you.”
“Charming bastard.” I giggled, hitting him softly against the chest.
Another sigh escaped his lips—a softer one. “Been workin’ my arse off—it's worth it, but it’s exhaustin’.”
Damon pulled me close, an arm wrapping around my shoulder. My plate rested on my lap as I leaned into his touch. “I’m sorry.”
“Part of the job, innit?” Damon shrugged. “Can’t wait for you to hear the new track.”
“I know it’ll be great, like always.”
He was such a hard worker, really. Whenever there was a new album or track in the works, he was always ready to work it to perfection, which it always ends up being, even if he thought otherwise.
Damon grinned, pressing a small and gentle kiss on my forehead.
Damon turned his attention to the television, watching it with interest. “What’s on tonight?”
“Nothing interesting, the commercials are more entertaining than whatever’s on. Like this.” I turned the volume of the telly. “It looks pretty cool, it’s in Iceland.”
A masculine voice over spoke in the Icelandic language, luckily the caption was in English.
“A getaway you won’t regret.” It spoke. “An experience like no other with views truly out of this world.”
Images flashed over the television. Images of mountains, the hotel, the steaming swimming area under the night light with Northern Nights.
“What a beauty.” Damon whistled; his eyes were glued to the small screen.
I nodded in agreeance.
“Come to The Nature Lagoon for the experience of a lifetime.” With that final statement, the advert was reverted back to the program.
It was a...strange idea, but it was one nonetheless, no?
Wouldn’t it be nice to just get away for a bit, God knows my Job'd been hell this past week and I was certain the Albarn man could have used one too.
My gaze turned towards Damon, giving him an innocent look. “Dames,”
“Dames?” He rose a brow, crossing his arms. “You only call me ‘Dames’ when you want something.”
“That’s not true.” I bated my eyelashes dramatically, slowly trailing a finger down his bicep.
“Y/N, what do you want?”
I frowned, rolling my eyes in annoyance. “Let’s go to Iceland.”
“Are you serious?” He looked back at the TV, then back at me.
I nodded with what he could only describe to be a cheeky smile. I felt like one of those kids who pestered their parents for toys on the television. “Would it be that crazy? You heard ‘em—it’ll be the ‘experience of a life time.’”
That was the catapult that ended up with us on a plane to southern Iceland some two weeks later. It hadn’t taken much to convince Damon; Damon saying ‘no’ to me was about as rare as a blue moon. As much as he could pretend or say otherwise, I knew he needed this trip just as much as I did—if not more.
Once we landed, I was caught off guard. For a place called ‘Iceland’, it was about as cold as England on a normal day.
A cab driver Damon had managed to catch drove us to a small hotel towards Iceland’s countryside. I sat in the backseat with Damon, our hands were clasped together above our bags and belongings. His thumb stroked my knuckles gently, his eyes looking out of the window. My attention, however, had been taken by him. I found myself staring at him, unable to look away. I didn’t know how he did it, it was almost effortless the way he managed to look so...
His hair was tousled—as it so often was—and it gave way for his eyes, his lovely ocean eyes.
God, he was beautiful.
Damon, as if sensing my piercing gaze onto him, turned his head in my direction. “What?”
“Nothing.”
We arrived at the hotel shortly after. The building was modest and small, but that by no means took away from it’s elegance. It looked really fancy.
Damon took the responsibility of booking us a room; while I stood, getting a nice look around of the interior.
“Our room’s upstairs,” Damon announced, taking a few strides to approach me.
I followed him up the stairs and into our room. The place was fancy, with a single bed. Damon flopped on the bed immediately, the jet-lag was in full effect.
“You’re not going to unpack?”
Damon shook his head. “No way. Too tired.”
“Alright, you soft git. Get some sleep.” I climbed onto the bed, settling beside him and kissing his forehead.
Unpacking could wait.
—
As soon as the sun came up, my eyes hadn’t even adjusted properly to the light before I was releasing myself from Damon’s grip around my waist and running to the restroom.
“Someone’s eager.” Damon’s groggy voice called out.
“You have no idea.” I retorted, slipping into the restroom.
My shower was quick, no longer than five minutes. I wore a black bikini underneath a white dress with floral all over them. After shaking him for almost forever, I finally got Damon get up.
“It’s six in the morning; don’t know why we’re goin’ so early.” Damon grumbled, grabbing his towel.
“We’re going early so we aren’t crowded by hoards of people.” I pushed Damon towards the bathroom.
Damon went with a white shirt and black swim trucks.
“Oh, cute. We’re matching.” I grinned.
“I guess we are.” Damon smiled, kissing the tip of my nose.
We hailed another cab, that drove us to The Nature Lagoon. If the hotel was The Ritz, then this place was definitely Buckingham Palace—well, maybe not, but close enough.
After checking in with the receptionist, Damon and I were headed to the locker rooms—separately, obviously. The women’s locker room was far to brightly lit this early in the morning, took me a little while to get adjusted to the lights.
I lifted the dress above my head, folding it neatly inside an empty locker, placing my trainers inside as well. Grabbing a towel before I left, Damon was already outside, shirtless. To be fair, he didn’t really need to do much in the locker room. It took every iota in me not to ogle.
There were five separate pools within the lagoon, each ranging in sizes. Some had a significant amount of people in its waters, while others were empty.
Damon and I gravitated towards the one devoid of people. Unlike the other pools, the one we had chosen was opened to the landscape, giving way for an unintercepted view of the mountains that surrounded the countryside. It was breathtakingly lovely in a way that was indescribable.
Steam rose from the water's surface curling above it, turning to soft, ghostly swirls at it’s interaction with the cold air.
Damon stepped inside the water first, moving around slowly in the water until it reached his waist. He turned to me, holding out his hand to help me inside. “Come in, it’s nice.”
I took his hand, my fingers slipping into his as I stepped in. The juxtaposing was felt immediately. The water’s heat engulfed my body, a mighty opposition to the cool air that was felt against my face. A sigh of satisfaction left my lips as I slowly sank into the water.
Damon and I swam around. For a minute, we just floated, letting us really feel the water. Suddenly, without a warning, chucked a handful of water in my direction.
“Hey!” I laughed, moving my wet hair away from my face.
“What? It’s just a little bit of water.”
“Just a bit of water, uh? Let’s how you like it.” I swished my hand through the water, splashing a small wave of water back towards him.
Laughter was all around as Damon and I continued to splash each other like the mentally aged seven years olds we truly were. When the laughter died down, we floated in the warm water, our hands finding each, like they always did.
“I’m glad we’re here. You and me.”
“I feel the same way.” I smiled.
I gazed up at the sky, hues of pink and orange decorated it, it was a moment I couldn’t put into words.
Damon and I floated towards the edge of the pool, which was big enough to sit on. I lifted myself off of the water and sat on it, keeping my feet wet. Damon stayed inside, placing his arms on the ledge and resting his chin on it.
“I could sing you a love song right now.”
“Oh yeah? If you sing Girls and Boys, I’m shoving you under.” I smirked.
Damon playfully narrowed his eyes at me. “I wasn’t going to sing Girls and Boys.”
“Alright then, go ahead.”
Damon began singing some ditzy and obscure ballad that I'd never heard of with a key that I was certain didn’t go with the song.
A soft giggle escaped my lips.
“Let’s play something.”
I cocked my head to the side.
“Hide and seek.”
“Hide and seek?” I rose a brow, gesturing around. “How exactly are we supposed to do that?”
“Right.” He blinked. “Tag?”
“Okay,” I smirked, shoving his head into the water. “You’re it.”
I jumped into the water, swimming as fast as I could. Damon lurked steadily behind me, trying to catch me. I swam towards a small waterfall formed by two semi-large rocks. When I reached the waterfall and tried to go through it, Damon caught me by the torso, pulling me up.
“Gotcha!”
I giggled as I attempted to wriggled free out of his grasp. “Let go.”
“No way.”
We stayed like that for a few seconds before Damon finally set me down. Our laughter quickly settled. My hands rested on his shoulders while his were on my waist, below the water.
His gaze locked onto mine intensely, the world around us felt like nothingness and unimportance.
Damon sighed—a soft sigh—running hand through his moppy, wet hair. “Feels like I’m always rushing.” He murmured; his thumb tracing circled on my upper pelvis. “Can’t remember the last time I slowed down, properly, like this. You make it so simple; you make everything simple.”
My chest was tight, my heart was accelerating, warmth coursing all throughout my body, which the water had nothing to do with. “I’ll always keep making it easy for you.”
“That’s why I love you.” He grinned, pulling my face close and kissing me.
The kiss was slow and deliberate, our warm breaths mingling with the cold up above. It made me shiver—not from the cold, but because of him, he was killing me softly.
#british man#battle of britpop#britpop#britpop x reader#fanfiction#britpop x fem!reader#damon albarn x you#damon albarn x fem!reader#damon albarn x reader#damon albarn#blur band#blur#blur x reader#gorillaz band#90s#fluff
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Hey so today’s my birthday, and birthdays kinda always suck for me (I’ve never known why and I’m fairly sure I’m not alone on this). But anyway, I was wondering if you could write something about Ace’s first concrete birthday with Jemily and maybe it kinda feels weird for her too?
Happy birthday! Sending you virtual love 💜
The First True Birthday
(Available on Ao3 here)
Even though you promised you’d tell her about your birthday, you don’t. Mostly it’s because you’ve spent decades ignoring your birthday, so it’s just another day on the calendar like any other. Also the makeshift celebration JJ planned last year when your work anniversary rolled around and she realized she never celebrated your first birthday with the team… well that was so over-the-top. Fun, sure, and very overwhelming and unnecessary. You don’t really want a repeat of that, and you don’t have anything you do want, so you keep your mouth shut. You don’t mention it, figuring it’s better for her to be mad at you for a bit than suffer through the discomfort of celebrating your birthday.
When the day rolls around, you wake up to JJ singing merrily. You groan and bury your head under the pillow. If even part of your brain thought you’d get away without a birthday celebration, you should have known better. “Happy birthday, baby,” JJ congratulates, ducking her head under your pillow too to give you a sweet kiss. “I know we have work, which is less than ideal from a celebration standpoint, but don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”
“I’m worried because you have a plan,” you counter. “We don’t need to do this. If you insist on it, maybe just something lowkey that doesn’t make me crawl out of my skin please.”
“It’s your birthday. You deserve to be celebrated. I know you. It’s nothing crazy,” she swears.
“You do realize that even knowing my birthday and singing to me is more than I’ve done any other year, so that in and of itself is fine. We don’t need more than that. How did you even know anyway? I didn’t say anything.”
The pillow’s weight lightens as Emily removes your hiding place. “How many times have you been hospitalized, even briefly, in the last six months? I can recite your medical file verbatim.” You forgot about that factor. “Birth date is right up there, my love. Now we know, and you won’t be forgotten again.” Your forehead creases into an expressive frown. Emily kisses the furrowed spot. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks,” you groan.
You briefly consider calling in sick to avoid whatever plans JJ might have concocted throughout the day. The idea of decomposing in the bed under a mountain of blankets and ignoring everything birthday related sounds more and more appealing. Emily grabs your ankle and drags you to the edge of the bed. “You’ll be okay. You can stomach us loving on you a bit.”
“Can I? Are you sure about that?” She lifts your pajama shirt off, tossing at the headboard to be dealt with later. “I do so well with surprises and things that are different from the norm,” you snark self deprecatingly. “And I just love to be the center of attention.”
“Trust us,” Emily implores. “If you need a break, give me a sign and I’ll get you to a quiet spot where you can take the time you need. You matter, my love, and it’s important that we get to show you that today of all days.” She helps you into clean underwear and jeans, though it’s mostly manipulating your uncooperative self because you hate the thought of this day more and more. “Up you go.” Your hands trapped in hers, Emily levers you up and nudges you toward the bathroom. You grab a black, long sleeve T shirt and deem it good enough. Deodorant. Face sunscreen. Eyeliner. Chapstick. Your morning routine takes all of six minutes. JJ stops you at your braid, taking the brush out of your hand. She takes the time to do a French braid, adding to the plait sections little by little as she moves down the back of your head.
You’re in the backseat with your work bag before you even realize you’re thirty minutes earlier than normal. The additional time makes sense when Emily parks outside of a little Parisian bakery that makes delicious croissants and lattes. When she pops in, JJ turns around in the passenger seat to look at you. “Let me celebrate you, baby, please. It’s important to me.” You clench your jaw and give her the smallest nod. You don’t really have a choice. When Jennifer Jareau sets her sights on something, nothing short of an apocalypse could stop her, and even then, you’d still bet on JJ.
When you walk through the bullpen’s double glass doors, you freeze, absolutely rooted to the spot. Your desk is a mess of color. “I did not do this,” JJ insists quickly. “I know you would hate something like this. I didn’t do this.” You hum some monosyllabic sound and force your feet forward. There are balloons and literal confetti that you already despise. There are cupcakes and little plastic characters everywhere.
The characters tell you all you need to know about who set this up, and it’s confirmed when Garcia squeals through the bullpen, shouting about your birthday with an exuberance that rivals a small child hopped up on cocaine-laced skittles. Your eyes widen at the volume. Your body instinctively braces for the inevitable hug. “Happy birthday, peaches! Oh you look stunning. A year older looks so good on you.” She bustles past you to your desk. “Okay, we have all of my favorite chachkies to keep you company throughout the day. Obviously balloons and cupcakes because it’s your birthday. I didn’t know your favorite flavor combination, so I got a bunch! I have candles and matches at my desk when you’re ready to make a wish! Oh! I love you so much,” she shrieks, pinching your cheeks dramatically.
You don’t know how to make this stop. You’re desperate to make it stop, for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. But it keeps going. You can’t tell Penelope how insane it all is because she’d be gutted that she made you uncomfortable. You manage a thank you and return the second hug she gives you. Emily squeezes your hand, a silent encouragement to keep it together.
When Garcia thankfully skedaddles back to her lair, you look at your desk in horror. It feels like everyone is looking at you, and your skin crawls with the weight of the presumed attention. You miss the silent conversation Emily and JJ share behind your back. You’re overwhelmed and uncomfortable in a very visible way in an environment that those adjectives are not… “Come with me, baby,” JJ whispers in your ear. “C’mon,” she soothes, her calm words interrupting your train of thought. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” you manage. You know Garcia meant well, and this is too much. It’s too much attention.
JJ takes matters into her own hands, dragging you up the short staircase to her old liaison office. The door thuds behind you, the deadbolt clicking into place. “Breathe, baby.” Clinging to her, you bury your face in her neck, letting her long blonde hair act as a curtain to hide you away from the attention on the other side of the door. Her own breathing follows the four count you know from decades in therapy. In two three four. Hold two three four. Out two three four. Hold two three four. JJ continues the pattern until your body mimics hers. “That’s my girl. I know that was a lot. Emily will take care of it, okay? I’ve got you. Emily’s got all of that,” she repeats. “It’s okay.”
“I don’t like my birthday,” you mumble. “I can’t… I can’t call attention to myself like that. I can’t stand out like that. I need to just… blend in. I need to survive.” You don’t have to see JJ’s face to know her blue eyes shine with unshed tears. You can feel her sadness for you.
“Stop making yourself small. You deserve to take up space,” JJ states, holding you tightly. “I understand why. I do, but, baby, you’re not that kid anymore. You have made a life for yourself out of all that hurt. You found people who love you, who want to celebrate you. You did that. Let us love you loudly, baby. There’s no scenario that you end up alone. Not anymore.”
“I don’t like my birthday,” you repeat, feeling pitiful in the face of her kind words that make you feel seen while also making you want to burrow away.
The knock on the office door startles you until Emily’s voice filters through. “Just me,” she announces. JJ reaches around you to flip the lock open. Emily locks it behind herself. “Just like old times, huh, Jen?” It’s meant to give you a second to settle again. “Everything’s shifted away from your desk. Just your coffee and pastry is there.”
“I don’t want to hurt her feelings. It’s sweet. It’s just a lot.”
“I know. I’ll explain it to her,” Emily promises. “You okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” Emily kisses the side of your head tenderly in response.
You’re relieved to see your desk mostly back to normal when you escape the reassuring confines of JJ’s arms (and her old office). There’s a large stack of case files for you to lose yourself in, and murdering serial killers distract you from the birthday nonsense from the morning.
Around noon, JJ appears at your desk. “C’mon.” You can’t help the grimace that stretches your lips. “Letting me love you loudly, remember? Trust that I know you.” You gather up your stuff and follow your partners out of the federal building.
The second you’re clear of the doors, Emily takes your hand, fingers interlacing together. They let you follow along in quiet companionship. They have a clear direction in mind, and you’ll go along with, trying to trust that JJ’s intention isn’t to make you uncomfortable.
JJ pops into a cafe, coming back out quickly with a stapled take out bag. She winks at you as Emily takes off walking again. It’s another few blocks before you’re in a small, grassy community park nestled between buildings. It’s adorable in its isolation. A pop of green serenity amongst the concrete. Emily leads you to a picnic table where JJ sets out different containers. “See? Nothing outrageous. Just lunch with your favorite people.”
“Who said you’re my favorite,” you retort playfully, the fresh air doing you worlds of good. JJ smacks you lightly. “I mean Emily’s definitely on my list of favorites.”
“You bitch,” JJ teases. “Eat your lunch.”
There’s something about being outside that helps you reset. The banter, the easy conversation, the company - it all feels almost celebratory. A happiness you never expected to feel on your birthday of all days. “You’re smiling,” JJ accuses, bumping your hip as you walk back to the office. You don’t bother denying it, laughing as she slings her arm over your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.
When you blindly reach for the next file in the stack around 4 PM after you’ve refilled your coffee and snacked on one of Penelope’s cupcakes, your to-do pile is empty, your fingers grazing the metal wire of the intake basket. You stare at it, unsure if you’ve ever actually caught up on all the cases and the paperwork. Your phone buzzes with a text from Emily, wishing you a happy birthday. You know there’s no way she took all of your remaining case files, so you’re betting she divvied them up amongst the team. It’s sweet and loving in a quiet way.
You’re even more surprised when JJ and Emily pack up at an appropriate time, nearly shoving you toward the elevator at 5:30 PM on the dot.
“This… umm… it was nice. Thank you,” you mumble self-consciously on the drive home.
“There’s a little bit more.”
“Okay,” you agree.
“Okay?”
“Trying to let you love me loudly. I trust you.”
At home, there’s a wrapped package in shiny purple paper on the coffee table. You trace its precise edges carefully. For a moment, tears burn in your eyes. You can’t remember the last time you got a real birthday present, so this feels monumental. “You can open it, you know,” Emily encourages, tugging your hips back onto the couch. JJ puts the box in your lap. “Hey, you okay, my love?” You nod, not trusting your voice. “You sure?”
“I’m okay. I wasn’t expecting anything.”
“It’s your birthday, baby. Of course, we’d give you a present.” You’re gentle peeling the tape, almost like a diffusing a bomb. You don’t want to rip the paper. “Hold on for a second. Talk to us. What’s going on?”
“I… just… I… uhh… I don’t remember getting a present on my birthday before,” you mumble, somehow hoping they heard you so you don’t have to repeat yourself and hoping they didn’t hear you at all. The hitch in JJ’s breath says she heard you loud and clear; she pulls you into a tight hug, professing her hatred for the world that made that a reality for you. “It’s okay. Really. It’s just new to me, so it feels intense. Good, but intense.”
To avoid driving the conversation further into volatile territory, Emily nudges you with her knee. “Go ahead, love. Open it.” The box shakes and rattles as you unfurl the tape pieces and gingerly peel apart the shimmery wrapping paper. Inside is a Lego set of the Milky Way from the art collection. Over three thousand colorful pieces to give depth and texture to the finished product, which can hang on the wall when it’s done.
“Will you build it with me?”
“Of course, baby. Do you like it?” You nod exuberantly, your fingers once again reverently tracing over the details on the box. “Good. Happy birthday, baby. We love you so very much.”
“Thank you… I… thank you for all of it.”
#a03 writer#ace in the hole fic#jj x emily x ace#answered#jemily x reader#cm fanfiction#emily prentiss x reader#jennifer jareau x reader#fic request
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MAKE ME LOSE MY MIND | FEM! SHIDOU RYUSEI X READER pt2
Since you can remember, from the first moment you saw Ryu, you knew she was going to be the biggest nuisance in your life, yet, at the same time, the very subject that torments your dreams at night. It was no secret: the girl was attractive. She knew it, you knew it, even your grandma knew it. Everyone knew. It was simply a fact.
With her long, slightly wavy blonde hair and those hot pink dyed strands. The way she swings her hips just a bit when she walks. Her confidence is utterly magnetic. The way she loves pampering herself, from skincare to manicures and spa days. The way she looks like she owns every room she steps into. And you’re utterly, stupidly, obsessed with it.
You can’t keep your eyes off her. And it’s getting embarrassing.
At night, your mind flashes back to those memories in Shibuya before the start of the Third Selection, when she dragged you to a bar simply because, why not? You had no idea what you were walking into. Good music. A lively atmosphere. People are so comfortable in their own skin, flaunting flamboyant outfits and sparkling makeup. And, in a way, you felt a twinge of jealousy because she fit so seamlessly into it all.
Her hips swayed to the rhythm as she danced with some girl in the middle of the dance floor, and you couldn’t help but clench your jaw.
That should be me.
That’s the only thought in your mind. But it’s foolish, isn’t it? You two are nothing but friends and even that’s a stretch. Maybe rivals with… what? Occasional sparks of friendship? Still, this is ridiculous. The way—never mind.
That night, you two had probably the worst fight since meeting. The words exchanged were heavy, both on your side and hers. She had followed you outside while you tried to escape the images and thoughts plaguing your mind.
Once back in Blue Lock, she acted like nothing had happened. And you did the same.
But you never really forget those words. They still linger, creeping up in the worst and most excruciating moments inside this damned prison.
"Earth to Y/N… are you even listening to me?"
Shidou waves her hand in front of your face, eyebrows furrowed in what you think is concern.
"Hm? Yeah—sorry, I just spaced out," you mumble, your voice quiet as you go back to washing your hair, pretending not to be affected by her damned breasts so close to you. Not the right time nor place for being a boob person. Why does she have to shower next to me anyway? There are, like, twenty showers and she always picks the one beside me.
"You sure?" she asks, studying your face. "I mean, I know I’m hot, but you don’t have to be so flustered about it," she teases sarcastically, letting the warm water run over her body.
And you can’t help but let your eyes run over the tanned skin. The hint of abs, those stretch marks that looked like the final touch from an artist trying to add that hint of something to their work. The way her breasts were so full and perky. Her thighs, full and squishable. Strong and muscular from playing football and long. Her blonde bush– enough.
"Yeah, whatever you say," you reply quickly, too quickly, too quietly, as you try to rush out of the shower before she could notice your flustered expression.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
What the hell was that?
"What the fuck is actually wrong with you?" Her voice is too loud, way angrier than she probably intended. But Shidou is pissed. She shuts off the shower, staring at you in disbelief in the empty bathroom as you wrap a towel, one that’s way too small, around your body.
"What?" Your voice is laced with irritation. She doesn’t like that.
"This. You. One moment we’re fine, and the next, you’re pissing me off with this—this shutting down bullshit. What the fuck is wrong? What did I do?"
"Nothing, it’s not—"
"Then why are you running off?" Shidou snaps.
"Would you just leave me alone?" you snap back.
A moment of silence.
You two stare at each other, breathing heavily. Unspoken words linger in the space between you.
"You wanna know what my problem is?" you say quietly, teeth gritted.
"It’s you. You and your stupid fucking personality. You make me wanna go crazy, but at the same time, I can’t live without it. I’m—tired. Sick and tired of your fucking attitude. You’re a thorn in my side and yet I keep pushing it in because maybe I’m a masochist and enjoy the pain. Because maybe—I wanna feel desired, because I feel something and this—this doesn’t make sense. Like you’re playing a—"
"Fuck me, you’re truly more blind than I thought."
Before you can reply, her still drenched and very much naked body presses against you, arms on your waist, forehead against yours. Lips so close you can feel her warm breath ghosting over your skin.
"I literally said, ‘Let’s make out under the shower’ earlier." Shidou's voice is quiet, slightly annoyed.
"You were playing aroun—"
"I wasn’t," she snaps. "For fuck’s sake… I wasn’t. I keep throwing hints at you. What more can I do? I keep offering you massages, to read my favorite manga together and I literally told you earlier that we should make out. How much clearer do I need to be?"
You look up at her, speechless. A little unsure. Your eyes sting with a hint of tears. Damn, you are stupid.
"I—I’m sorry," you whisper, your voice cracking.
"What are you apologizing for?" she whispers back, pink eyes locked onto yours.
"I… don’t know. For being a blind idiot?"
Ryu chuckles, her scowl from earlier softening into a smile.
"Sure. You’re an idiot. But you’re my idiot."
"… "
"Too cheesy?" she asks, trying to fight back a laugh.
"Too cheesy," you admit, smiling softly.
The tension from before disappears as she looks at you and you look at her.
“So… about that make out session..?” she says suggestively moving her eyebrows, grinning.
Yeah, you’re an idiot. An idiot who’s foolishly, madly and unapologetically in love with a girl. Your girl.
© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)
#blue lock#shidou ryusei#fem shidou ryusei#fem shidou#femlock#fem!shidou#x fem!reader#blue lock genderbend#genderbend#shidou ryusei x reader#shidou x reader#shidou ryusei imagine#bllk shidou#blue lock shidou#blue lock x chubby reader#bllk x female reader#neo egoist league#x reader#wlw#sapphic#lesbian fanfic#wlw post#wlw yearning#wlw fanfic#blue lock x reader
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Now that the campaign is over, I think I should drop my full thoughts.
As a start: I intitally liked the finale for the most part. We'll get back to why I said initially. However, I have one major gripe.
The first is that reviving Ashton really fealt like it cheapened their sacrifice. It was such an interesting choice that they gave up their life purely out of spite. In Ashton's eyes, it wasn't about saving the gods, it was about humbling them. That's fun, and interesting, and as much as I have feelings about Aston that we'll get back to later, it was cool. And I also think it left their budding relationship with Fearne off on an interesting note. All of that is completely undone by reviving them.
Anyway, onto the campaign.
I was really into the game in its initial sandboxy arc. The cast was fun and their interactions were all neat, and Inwas interested where the plot was going.
And then the god plot came in. And I have so many feelings.
As a religious person (hellenist and heathen), I felt constantly letdown this entire story. At the end of the day, there was no real evidence given in a pro or anti god direction. We're told they're tyrants who have too much control over mortals, but most people have problems because of a lack of intervention. The divine gate keeps demons and devils at bay, but there's other sources for that. There's no consequences to any option. And because of that, we're left with endless debate because we have no solid evidence.
All of this leads to the debate just turning into teal world reddit aetheist plot points because there's nothing in world to debate. This also felt incredibly dismissive of actual faith. Do I need to remind everyone how Ashton would not let FCG just be at peace with worshipping Avandra? That was incredibly frustrating. They also don't address at all how getting rid of the gods affects those who gind meaning in religion. The Hells and Keyleth were just like, "eh. Get over it. World's still spinning. " Excuse me, did we forget how much meaning Fjord told the hells he got out of his relationship with Melora!?
From a writer's perspective: well, all of this. But it was also incredibly boring because it means nothing is happening. This wasn't a complex, morally grey debate because there was absolutely no nuance. We don't see how the gods (or, in particular, the primes, because we know the betrayers all suck) are bad, and how things will be fine forever without them. So it's an endless de ate with no point that follows the same formula every time: same 3 points why gods are bad. Someone says "hmmm, i don't know". We end by saying "let's kill Ludanis because he sucks".
And frankly, nothing was happening for so long. So much of the campaign is an indistinguishable blob of time in my memory, with the standout moment being Aeor. And I think Ahton is the perfect case study. Talesin is on record saying Ashton was a critique of the obnoxious parts of the punk mindset, and they had no character growth. Their character development after shardgate reverted soon after, and their position was always completely dismissive of any other perspective.
All that being said, the most fun I had in the campaign was actually the live show. In part because I caught it live. I was on a family trip in the area already, and so my girlfriend and I made it to the show. And frankly, it was a really good session. It was mostly self-contained, which was good for her, who had not seen a single session of C3. It didn't involve the god debate, which was good for me. And it introduced Breius, who I genuinely think is one of the best PCs of the campaign despite coming in late.
Because Breius is sich a good deconstruction of cults and toxic relationships and why they're appealing, why you come back, and he ended up breaking free at the end!
But, now I think about the finale again. And I'm less positive about it than I was. Because I realize that most of why Infelt good was because this mess of a campaign is finally over. I overlooked how Orym and Opal and Imogen did not face lasting effects from their actions because I was so ready to be done with the god debate that goes nowhere.
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Short fuse
Matsukawa Issei, Tendo Satori and Hoshiumi Korai with an mc who’s lost their temper.
Anon
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/e56affeae7305f7d1e9f2ef9b7467f69/44c96b908fb44798-dc/s540x810/918b35dab1a410ed376978fcf9dcceb8ed39cc98.jpg)
✮ - Matsukawa Issei
“Hey, you okay?” Matsukawa placed a hand on your shoulder only for it to immediately be shrugged off.
“I’m fine.”
He knew how stressed you’d been over exams and studies lately, and after the ‘assessment graded’ notification popped up on your phone as you were showing him something in a cafe earlier, he hadn’t even thought of asking after seeing your reaction to it. If anything, it didn’t seem as though he paid much attention to your workload anyways, rarely asking questions about what you’re doing. He’d instead ask you to tag along with him so much, to the point where you weren’t able to find time to study properly.
You knew he wasn’t trying to be annoying or rude, but still..
You removed your seatbelt as he entered the driveway before he was able to shift the gear to ‘Park’, preparing to immediately leave.
As he parked, you prepared to grab the handle and leave the car, when a hand suddenly reached out to yours, grasping it.
“Wait, please.” Remorse glazed his tone as he spoke.
You decided to give in for the time being, placing your belongings back in your lap as he shifted the car into ‘park’ before removing the keys from the ignition. You heard him shift in his seat, facing you as your head faced the window, arms crossed.
“Come on, it can’t be that interesting to look outside.” He snickered, attempting to break the ice.
Giving in, you turned albeit hesitant; you still refused to meet his eyes, facing the windshield instead.
He sighed, falling silent for a few moments.
“I saw it you know. The grade.” He said matter of factly. “I just didn’t think you’d want me to mention it. I thought it’d make you angry.”
Sometimes you wondered if he was dense, or just really dumb.
“And that’s why you waited the whole day to ask me about it?” You muttered, still refusing to meet his eyes.
He clicked his tongue, voice elevating in defence. “Look, I..” After a sigh, he resumed speaking, his tone much calmer than before.
“I’ve probably been a pain lately, so I know you’re probably really tired of it.” He reached out, placing his hand on your thigh, fingers twiddling with the fabric of your dress.
“..But I’m only trying to see a smile on your face. I had no idea you were so stressed.”
You turned your head back to the window, hiding your face as warmth crept up on your cheeks.
“…Then ask next time.” You said, the strain in your voice dropping.
“Will do.”
✮ - Tendo Satori
“You’re pretty harsh on them sometimes, Tendo.” You commented as he explained what he and his team did during practice today while the two of you walked home.
“Nope, they’re just lazy.” He shrugged, “I’m not gonna sweet talk them into practicing.” He stifled a giggle.
Raising an eyebrow, you began to feel irritated by his way of dealing with younger team members who weren’t as experienced or skilled as the regulars.
“You can’t expect them to know how to play like professionals instantly. It takes time.”
“Well I’m not their coach, am I?”
You had been friends with him for a while, having met eachother due to a seating arrangement in class. But after speaking to him for all this time, you began to notice his uncooperative attitude when it came to helping others on his team, especially when they weren’t as experienced as him.
You had been meaning to say something for a while, growing increasingly irritated each time he spoke ill of his inexperienced teammates.
“I don’t know how others can even stand to be on the same team with someone like you.” You spoke the words bluntly as the two of you stood at a stoplight. “You’re so discouraging. You’ve had help in the past, haven’t you?” Clenching the handle of your backpack tightly, your body tensed up in anticipation of his response.
“Uh, yeah from my coaches?” He replied, feigning offence. His tone hadn’t changed; still joking around and not being serious.
The stoplight clicked in the background, the remaining cars passing through. You weren’t about to deal with his attitude; he was already frustrating you enough as it was. His typical upbeat attitude wasn’t translating well into this situation, annoying you even more.
If that’s how he was going to be, then hanging out with him wasn’t something you’d continue doing.
After the remaining cars had passed through, the pedestrian light lit up. “Maybe you’ve chosen not to help them.” You took a few steps forward onto the crossing. “But you don’t have to be so insufferable about it.”
You didn’t look behind you, nor did you wonder whether he heard you or not. His steps didn’t follow, and your phone remained silent for the rest of the night.
Waking up the next day, it did cross your mind that perhaps you were a little.. harsh. And maybe it was pretty anticlimactic for you to be scolding him for essentially not being kind when you weren’t too kind to him either.
But how could you approach him about it after you absolutely thrashed him just the day before? The same thought rang throughout your head as you got ready for school, thinking about how awkward it was going to be sitting next to him. After all, it was the first real argument you’d had with him since becoming friends all those months ago.
Though, it looked like he’d also done some thinking himself. Opening the front door to leave, you found him leaning against the gate enclosing the front of your house. The closing of the door seemed to catch his attention as you heard his voice call out to you.
“Good morning!” You noticed that apart from his school bag, he was holding something else.
Walking up to the gate, you ran a few practice greetings in your head; ones that would lead up to an acknowledgment of your attitude towards him from the day before. Though before you could say anything, as soon as you closed the gate and began walking, he handed you a gift bag.
“These are for you.” He smiled. “I made them.”
Glancing inside, you made out what looked like a small box of sweets. You had no idea he was into baking. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he dramatically sighed. “And yeah, I guess i’ll try to help that bunch.”
So many things ran through your head as you thought of something to say. Do you just come outright and say it, or do you ask about the gift first? Or maybe you take the ‘Oh, you didn’t have to do this..!’ approach in terms of the gift?
“You gonna say something?” He quipped.
Though, it seemed that in that moment, you forgot how he was as a person, not being the type to sweat the details.
“Sorry about yesterday Tendo.. I didn’t mean to-”
“No worries!” He immediately snapped, a laugh treading along with his words.
A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as he spoke. With as much as you knew at this point, there was still tons that you didn’t know about him.
✮ - Hoshiumi Korai
“So tomorrow? At 5?” His voice rang throughout your room as you lay on your bed with your phone on speaker.
“Yeah.”
“Alright, but I cant go for too long. I have to wake up early for practice.”
Recently, he’d been really busy, unable to find time to even walk home with you from school as you used to. So it had become a habit for you both to keep up with each other through a phone call before heading to bed.
You knew he was busy with club and all, but was it really that hard for him to make time for you?
Saying goodbye, you slumped your head onto the pillow, wondering what you’d wear as you drifted asleep.
You awoke to your alarm with a headache, already putting you in a less than happy mood. Throughout the day, you lounged around the house and completed chores as you waited for the clock to hit 4:00pm - the time you’d get ready.
It really had been so long since you’d spoken to him in person other than saying ‘good morning’ and ‘see you later’ in class. Slipping into a dress, you recalled how he’d always look out for you, glaring at anyone who’d look at you with bad intentions. When on the sidewalk, he’d make sure to swap sides with you, putting himself closer to the road. He’d also never let you pay when you both ate out.
Sure, he hadn’t been there much recently, but that doesn’t mean he’d never been there.
As you applied a light blush onto your cheeks, your phone sounded with a notification. The time was 4:50, so you expected the notification to be a message from him letting you know he was waiting outside for you. Instead of checking your phone immediately, you peeked outside your window, looking around for where he’d be standing, but he wasn’t there. Confused, you checked the notification on your phone.
“Sorry, I can’t make it today. Something came up.”
Was he serious? A text? and not even a call? And why did he wait until now to tell you? Multiple questions ran through your head as you entered your phone password, immediately calling him.
“Hello-”
“Seriously Hoshiumi? Are you kidding me?” You interrupted. You had waited so long, never mentioning anything to him because you knew how busy he was. But this time was different.
“Hey hey wait, let me tell you what-!”
“No! You do this every time! You’re so busy that you can’t even see me for an hour? So busy that you had to cancel ten minutes before we were supposed to meet up?!”
The other end of the line fell silent. It was out of character him to not respond when the two of you had a falling out. He was as much as a hothead as you were, so this silence wasn’t like him.
“Whatever. Don’t even bother rescheduling it. Bye.”
Lifting the phone off your ear, you could hear his voice as he attempted to retain your attention. But it was too late, seeing as you’d ended the call and thrown your phone onto your bed. You felt so stupid, dressed up and wearing makeup for nothing. You headed into the living room and dropped onto the couch with a sigh. Still dressed and now lying down, your body shook with every sob, lulling you asleep.
Hours later, you awoke to firm knocking on the door. Your family had been out for a few hours visiting some relatives so you figured they had returned. As you walked to the door, you caught a glimpse of the time on the microwave; 11:37pm. That whole ordeal had really knocked you out.
Twisting the doorknob, the person on the other side wasn’t your Dad, nor your Mom, but was instead Hoshiumi. He was dressed lightly, panting, his skin glistening with sweat. Your eyes widened for a moment, not having seen him this closely for a long time. Just as you were about to say something, the events that unfolded hours ago replayed through your head, prompting you to attempt to slide the door back closed.
Though before you were able to, he placed his foot in the doorway.
“Wait.” His voice was steady; serious. He grabbed the door, opening it wide.
You weren’t able to meet his gaze. Part of you was still mad, but the other part knew there was definitely another way you could’ve dealt with it.
He began to explain what happened, why he couldn’t call to tell you, and why he was dressed so lightly. He’d left home immediately once he had finished what had came up, running to your house instead of taking public transport. Your home wasn’t too far from his, but it’d take almost twenty minutes in walking distance.
You remained silent the entire time, eyes welling up with tears as you came to terms with your attitude towards this entire situation.
He tilted his head, squinting his eyes at you. “Are you crying?”
You turned your face in response, attempting to hide the tears which were already streaming down your cheeks. He clicked his tongue, sighing as he wrapped his arms tightly around you.
“Don’t cry anymore. I’m here now, aren’t I?” His tone was gentler than before, something you didn’t expect. One hand held the back of your head as the other wrapped tightly around your back.
You nodded, locking your arms around him in an embrace.
#anime#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#fluff#haikyu fluff#haikyu x reader#manga#matsukawa issei#matsukawa x reader#matsukawa haikyuu#hq matsukawa#tendo satori#tendo x reader#tendo haikyuu#hq tendo#korai hoshiumi#hoshiumi korai#hoshiumi x reader#hq hoshiumi#hoshiumi hq
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A Day in the Life of a Loser: Loser Ford AU
Chapter 6: Maps
6th September 1971
Great, just great. Fantastic, even! That was an attempt at sarcasm.
Apparently our map had flown out the car window 4 miles ago and Stanley didn't bother to get it back! Now we're stuck in the middle of Indiana!
We're meant to move into our dormitories at Backupsmore University today, but from the looks of our situation, that's going to be delayed.
∆∆∆
"Quit sulkin', Sixer. It's not like we're in a different country."
"We might as well be! We are two states away from home and we have no map!"
"Don't you have photographic memory?"
"Well—"
"What're we arguin' about, fellas?"
A foreign voice startled the two and made them turn around.
Who they saw was a tall, lanky man, vaguely around their age. His long hair and horseshoe mustache was unlike what they've seen in New Jersey.
Stan liked it.
Realizing neither of them had answered the question, Stan spoke up.
"Oh, it's nothing, just my brother whining about our lack of map."
"What happens if we get lost, Stanley?"
"We ask for directions like normal people!"
"So you expect us to blindly trust strangers?"
They glared at each other, both having valid points but neither wanting to admit it.
"Where are you lot headin' to, anyway?"
"Backupsmore University. You know, the shitty one?"
"Stanley, don't just give that type information away..."
"Ah, BMU? I'm headin' there as well!"
The cute southern guy was going to the exact same place at the exact same time as he was? This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he was not about to fumble it!
"Why don't you come with us?"
Before the concepts of a response could even pop into existence, Ford pulled Stan aside.
"Stanley, really? We don't even know his name..."
"Hey! What's your name?"
"Fiddleford McGucket?"
"See? Now we know his name."
"Well—We don't know where he's from!"
"Where are you from?"
"Tennessee."
"Again, now we know."
"Stanley..."
"C'mon, Pointdexter, please?"
Flashing the most convincing puppy eyes he could muster, Stan managed to win Ford over.
"Fine, but if we get kidnapped—or worse—I'm blaming you."
"Yes, yes!"
Stan proceeded to talk to Fiddleford while Ford watched from the sidelines.
Was he jealous? Psh, of course not!
Fiddleford pulled out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. Could it be?
"A map!"
Lunging himself towards the map Fiddleford, he braced himself on the other's shoulders and read the map from there.
Turns out, he did have the whole route memorized. He wouldn't let Stan have an "I told you so" moment, though.
"Hello...You."
Oh, yeah, Fiddleford didn't know Ford's name yet. He quickly put himself at a more socially acceptable distance and cleared his throat.
"My name is Stanford."
"Well, hello, Stanford."
Ford always dealt with introductions curtly.
He watched as Stan and Fiddleford continued their conversation. Just as they did, Fiddleford went to sit in the passenger seat.
What the hell? That was Ford's seat!
"Stanley, why is he sitting in my seat?"
"Ah... It'll be easier for him to tell me which way to go!"
"I could do that easily."
"Maybe he'll feel safer in the front seat?"
"I thought we were worried about him kidnapping us."
"Listen, Sixer, I just..."
Looking at Fiddleford, who was waiting in the car, Stan blushed.
"Oh. I see."
Ford reluctantly sat in the backseat and pouted. He didn't want to hold back his brother, but he wasn't going to be happy about it.
∆∆∆
We appear to have found the solution to our problem. Just like inventive problem solving, it comes with it's drawbacks.
This "Fiddleford McGucket" seems to be awfully fond of Stanley. Perhaps he's a siren, attracting Stanley to his (and subsequently my own) doom.
I'm currently stuck sitting in the backseat of Stanley's car, forced to watch Fiddleford flirt with him under the guise of giving him directions.
It's obscene.
We're approximately 7 miles away from BMU. This is going to be a long car ride.
#loser ford au#a day in the life of a loser#stanford pines#ford pines#stanley pines#stan pines#fiddleford mcgucket#YAY MYSTERY TRIO#mystery trio#gravity falls#gravity falls au#fanfiction#ok guys i promise ford isn't homophobic in this#he's just fiddlephobic
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ATP i'm just not even sure why they put CN's name in the title...
Like, thinking about it, there's no way they ever planned for Adrien/CN to be near as much of a main character as Mari/LB.
First of all, they only gave LB a way to purify akumas/amoks. If LB and CN are supposed to be partners of equal standing, how is it that one can exist without the other? Bc no matter how many times they try to claim otherwise in the show, LB can handle herself just fine without CN. This is just the simple, sad truth because the writers decided LB needed to come off as a more competent hero than CN despite the fact that he has the same basic fighting ability that she does, if not better bc of his fencing skills. Actually, we don't even know if he could defeat a villain himself as they never give him the chance to. They always have to have LB be the one to save the day. They very easily could have LB be affected or trapped by a villain in the same way CN is all the time, just to have her be saved to perform her miraculous ladybug and purify the akuma. Like something similar to CN in Dark Cupid. They have the ability to do this, they just decide not to.
Second, and I mean this one's pretty obvious: the theme song, the shortened one they actually use for the show. Self-explanatory.
Third, Mari is the only one who got to meet with Master Fu for a long time, resulting in her being the only one who gets to know heroes' identities. For what reason? Now, I get why two people knowing one hero's identity could be risky, but CN could've gone to Master Fu, chosen a hero or two, and returned the miraculous after the battle with no problem. And when the issue of LB not having enough time to collect all the miraculous after a battle came up, I don't see why CN couldn't have helped. There would've been ways for holders to return miraculous without identities having to be shown (see: Alya's first outing as Rena).
Now, I could probably keep going for a really long time so I'll just make this final point: Adrien/CN is always left in the dark!! No matter how many times he expresses how much he hates secrets, Mari/LB was/is always leaving him out! For why??? Now, keep in mind that I've only watched through the first few eps of s5 and I barely remember them, so maybe she's told him some stuff now, but it's legit so frustrating. And now with s6 and the whole Gabriel secret... it's just gonna happen again, I can feel it. But fr: Adrien/CN deserves to know things!
I'll stop myself here. I wanted to make a quick clarification that I don't hate Mari or LB; I actually love her and I think she makes a great main character! I just wish that the show lived up to its name and had two mcs instead of one. They should be on equal footing with equal screentime (and importance), but unfortunately that's just not the case, and makes the show title seem pretty misleading. Anyways, since I apparently have more to say (more than even I thought lol) lemme know if you want me to continue this post or go into more detail about something!
Thanks for reading my first rant on this blog! <3
#this is longer than i meant it to be#and i even had to stop myself at four points lol i have a problem#miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir#miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir#miraculous lb#miraculous ladybug#mlb#mlb fandom#chat noir#adrien agreste#ml ladybug#jay's saying stuff :)
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You swear under your breath, fighting the urge to slam your head on the steering wheel before calling your boss.
Merlin picks up after the third ring. “Hello?”
“I’m gonna be late,” you blurt out.
“Okay?” he says after a moment, completely calm. “What happened?”
“Traffic,” you mumble, watching the row of cars despondently. “Why the fuck is there so much?”
“Language,” he admonishes, taking you off guard for a second. “Anyways, the city’s been growing the last two years. I thought you’d know that,” he teases.
“Shut up.”
He laughs.
“Not my fault I don’t go this route to go to the store.”
“So you’re saying that you don’t even watch the news?”
“Shut up.”
“All right, all right. Not my fault the CEO wants to see the kids.”
A young voice giggling in the background surprises you.
“Hey, that’s not what I meant and you know it-” Merlin begins, before the sound of mild… roughhousing? happens.
“Ignore that,” he says a minute or so of you waiting in confusion later.
“What was that?” you ask.
“My twelve year old. He has the sense of humor of kids his age.”
“…I didn’t know you have a kid,” you answer, sure you’re going crazy, or you’ve somehow never heard him mention it.
“Yeah, I don’t really mention it. Don’t want to make myself seem even more appealing by being a single parent.”
“Oh, okay.” Well, at least you aren’t going crazy.
“Charlie, you want to say hi? You don’t have to,” he continues, voice becoming even softer, gentler.
“Hi,” the young voice says shyly after a moment.
“Charlie, that’s y/n. I’ve mentioned them before, right?”
“Mm-hm,” the voice answers, sounding less nervous now.
“Oops, sorry guys,” you interrupt. “Traffic’s started moving. Gotta go.”
“Don’t get hurt,” Merlin responds.
“But they’re in traffic-” Charlie starts to protest before you hit the button.
You can’t help but smile as you start driving again.
Then your baby starts crying.
“Oh, come on, not now,” you whisper. “What is it?” you ask, even though she doesn’t understand. You fed her before you left, but with all the traffic… does she need a diaper change?
“It’s fine. It’s fine,” you mumble to yourself as you switch on your turn signal, quickly pulling into the gas station up ahead. You park, getting out of the car and opening the back door.
“Oh. Yup,” you say as the smell hits you. “Definitely a diaper change.” You sigh and grab your bag, unbuckling her after pulling it onto your shoulder. Hopefully, the the bathroom has a changing table.
One diaper change later, and making sure she isn’t hungry by offering her her bottle, you’re back on the road.
There’d better not be anything else that makes you even later. At least Merlin doesn’t care.
And shouldn’t Miss Cooke be happy to see a new baby? It’s “bring your kid to work” day, after all.
Finally, you’re almost there. You turn into the parking lot before staring at it in shock.
When did it get so big?
You’ll have to ask Merlin. But hey, at least you made it.
prompt 2588
You've been working from home for a couple of years now, but today you have to drive into the office. Unfortunately, things have changed a lot since you've made this drive. At least three things are radically different. What are they and how do they affect the drive?
#writing#writing prompts#prompt responses#joy’s writing#my ocs#merlin ambrosius#tkn merlin#charlemagne ambrosius#baby charlie#otp: i am not leaving you. i am never leaving you.
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