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sluttbuttsstuff · 3 years ago

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Not to spam you but…

Yandere la squada and a darling that’s a little pant-y mess on the occasion that she masturbates and knows a member of the team is home, but upon thinking she’s alone (unaware of her stalker) is masturbating REALLY FUCKING LOUD 🥺 👉👈 sorry if it’s too filthy but this thought will not let me know peace

I do NOT know how to write short pieces; sorry, but that's just not the kind of writer i am. That being said, i had a lot of fun with this, so thanks for the request!

WARNINGS: afab femme reader, Not sfw, dub/con, but reader strongly implied to be okay with everything, voyeurism, sex toys, fingering, blow jobs, intercourse, etc.

Why is it so hard to get some alone time?!...okay, when you’re living with 9 other men, it shouldn’t really come as a surprise to you, but STILL! Well, at least you were able to release some tension, late at night when everyone was too asleep to barge into your room to ask you for something, but you had to stay quiet. God forbid anyone hear the noises you make, so you had to get yourself off quickly and efficiently, without getting to really enjoy yourself. So when this week’s meeting left you free for a day at the base ALONE (even Risotto himself had to be out for a mission, which was rare) you intended to take advantage of it to the fullest.

First: You sang all your favorite songs at the top of your lungs, without fear of anyone hearing you go out of key, or judging you for your taste in music. Then, You took an extra long shower AND bubble bath, effectively using up all the hot water and pampering your skin and hair-which you never had time to when you had to share the bathroom with all the other members. You ate a ton of junk food and ordered delivery all for yourself, and watched all the shows and movies you didn't have the time to before because Formaggio would watch sports games all day.

Finally, you figured now was as good a time as any to....”relax your body”. You were so excited, it had been so long since you’d taken the time to really explore your body while you rubbed one out. You got undresses, rubbing your smooth, moisturized legs together while you turned on one of your favorite pornos on your laptop. You mimicked the motions onscreen, rubbing your neck, your chest, stomach, and finally the lower lips of your pussy. You were already warm and tingling with anticipation, and it didn’t take long for you to get into it. You let yourself moan freely, not saying anything in particular as you clenched around your fingers, lubing yourself up for your toys that were waiting to be used again.

Eventually, the porn ended, but you were just getting started, rocking yourself on your favorite dildo, circling a vibe around your clit and pinching your nipples. It was intense but slow, pleasure raising and declining like gentle hills you rode out. Still, you held off your orgasm for as long as possible, you were having so much fun you didn’t want it to end. You were so invested in the pleasure you were feeling, the rest of the world went away, you didn't even notice the crash of your laptop off the bed.

You were close now, like it or not, so you pushed your body faster and harder than you had in ages, despite the cramps in your wrist and hips. You couldn’t stop your body now, wailing out, tears streaming down your face as you begged yourself for release. Almost there, almost-!!!!

Formaggio: Of course Formaggio was able to finish his hit early- he’s good at his job and doesn’t like carrying things out needlessly! Besides, his favorite team’s playing tonight, he has to hurry home before Prosciutto claims the TV again for an old movie marathon, ughhh. He calls out to you when he arrives home, since he knows you were off this week, but didn’t hear you greet him. You must now have heard him, either, or you wouldn’t be making noises like that. Formaggio cackles to himself-of course you’re getting off, he does the same when he gets the day off too. He likes to do something more exciting than usual though, like leave his door open, or do it in someone else’s room. Yours, for example.

Stifling his own laughter, he uses his stealth skills to sneak into your room. You’re so out of it, you don’t even notice when he opens the door, or your overturned laptop at the foot of your bed. It’s pretty hot, actually, you’re usually more tight-lipped than this, refusing his advances and keeping to yourself when not at work. He likes this side of you a lot more; hair messy, gleaming with sweat, and moaning like a porn star. Yeah baby, let it all out! Formaggio knows he probably shouldn’t, that you’ll kill him afterwards, but Formaggio isn’t exactly a good guy per se so he forces himself on you and grabs the dildo from your hands. You gasp and make an odd, half-choking noise, shocked at Formaggio’s presence and trying to stop moaning in front of him while he fucks you on your toy at double speed.

“Yo, y/n, had a good day today without the guys around? IT’s about to be a lot better, now that I'm here~ why don’t you let me have a turn making you feel good? I’m sure you’re tired from doing this all yourself.” Formaggio teases you, as you struggle to find the words and hide the noises. Finally, you roll your eyes and give up; if Formaggio really wants to help you out so badly, then you’re gonna put him to work. The two of you end up fucking for the rest of the aftenoon and evening, until Proscuitto bangs on your door to keep it down, and even then you have another round or two while giggling.

The two of you are exhausted, but sated, afterwards, and you convince Formaggio to make a run to the fridge to pull out your leftovers, on the condition you share them with him. You spend the rest of the night eating in bed, watching Formaggio’s beloved game on your laptop, and falling asleep. It's an almost perfect end to your day, except for the fact that Formaggio snores louder than a chainsaw.

Illusio: unfortunately, this is not the first time Illusio’s heard (or seen) you masturbate, try as you might to hide it. With a stand like his, you know he not only has the means, but desire to snoop on others. Hell, half the time he doesn’t even mean to spy on others, he just forgets about other’s privacy when he’s in his mirror world. This is, however, the first time you’ve been so vocal, presumably because everyone’s supposed to be out right now. Poor girl, it must be hard to take care of your needs when you’ve got to stare at him all day. He’d be pretty flustered too, with his long chocolate locks and well-toned muscles. Illusio pities you, so he decides he’ll give you the help you clearly need. Jumping from the mirror in the hallway to the one in your bedroom (See? You don’t even cover it up, of course you want him to ravish you!) he watches and listens for a minute at the raunchy display before him. Despite you clearly doing this for quite awhile, judging from the sheen of sweat and heavy breathing, your movements were steady and rhythmic, almost like you’d been edging yourself for a long time. How cute. You must have wanted him to finish the job for you. You’re being very loud however, which Illusio likes, but you’re not saying what he wants to hear. So, he slinks over to you like a ghost, and puts his hand over your mouth to stop you from screaming.

“As much as I love coming home to hear you pleasuring yourself, I think we can do a little better than this. And also-” He kisses the side of your shocked face, “If you’re going to scream something, scream my name.” He picks up where you left off, edging you again and again until you’re so desperate that you beg him to fuck you, and say all the pretty words he wants you to. He fucks you so good you squirt when you come, and makes you come again after he finishes inside of you. It takes you a minute or two to recover, but when you do, and Illusio is bragging about what he did to you, you chase him out of your room with a pillow for being an annoying cocky bastard.

Prosciutto:

Hmmm, well, this is a bit awkward. He knows what the noises mean the minute he first hears them, but isn’t sure how to approach this without embarrassing both of them. If it had been one of the other men, he’d have just slammed their door until they shut up so he didn’t have to listen to their tug session, but Prosciutto prided himself on being a gentleman, and didn’t want to embarrass a lady if he didn’t have to.

He waited about 5 or so minutes, hoping you would wrap up, but when you only got louder and louder he decided enough was enough. After all, god forbid one of the other men hear you-like Illusio or Formaggio. So, steeling himself, he coughed loudly and knocked on your door. You must not have heard him, as your moaning didn’t stop, you were clearly enjoying yourself too much to notice or care about the other men in the base.

Prosciutto huffed, almost offended. Is this what he gets for trying to be polite? Jerking off loudly like a common whore where anyone could walk into you? He tried the doorknob, and was almost disappointed you were careless enough to leave it unlocked. Really, this was all your fault, so when your noises of pleasure turned to shock and embarrassment, he merely chided you for your carelessness, forcing his tongue into your mouth to shut you up while he took over. He took control and instructed you how to properly touch yourself, as well as jerk him off in appreciation for the self-love lesson. He decides to leave it there for the night, as motivation for a reward the next time you’re home alone. So you better work hard on your next missions if you want him to properly fuck you, got it?

Pesci:

Pesci was grateful Prosciutto was willing to finish up the job for him, since it meant he got to go home early. Heck, maybe he could even get a chance to watch one of his documentaries before Formaggio came home and the game started. However, he was growing increasingly concerned about the noises coming from your room. He didn’t want to pry or anything, but you sounded...almost in pain. Sometimes you worked out or did yoga though, and Pesci thought that’s what you were working on, so he decided to leave you be.

However, upon hearing a loud crash, followed by a particularly pained groan, he thought it was best to check in on you. He knocked on your door frantically, but you were unable to answer it. Oh no, maybe you’d hurt yourself so badly you couldn’t even move! Determined to help you, he opened the door, only to see you writhing on the bed, nude and in the midst of an intense self-love session.

Pesci’s mouth opened, and closed, but unlike you, he couldn’t make a sound at the sight before him. It’s true, he harbored a small crush on you, but he had hope he would see you like this under better circumstances. He wasn’t sure what to do, he knew the right thing was to close the door and pretend like this never happened, but you seemed desperately in need of help, not to mention Pesci’s pants were tented with his own sudden but no less intense arousal.

Thinking back to advice Prosciutto had given him about manning up and taking what he wanted from life, he creeps up to your still unaware body, crouching onto your bed with a squeak of the bed springs. This is enough to break you from your trance, and you jolt up, looking at Pesci in shock and embarrassment. Pesci shushes you before you can say a word, pushing a trembling, clammy finger to your lips.

“Please...Let me help you y/n,” He begs you, looking you in the eyes with more courage and bravery than you’d seen from the man since you first met him. Still wet and horny, and body growing tired, you lick his finger, earning an adorable squeak from Pesci; this is going much better than he thought it would. You pull him on top of you, and show him what to do.

What Pesci lacks in experience he makes up for in quick-learning and a massive cock with a short refractory period. You move his hands for him across your body, bringing yourself to climax finally, and return the favor with a blowjob. Pesci doesn’t last long, but he’s hard again very quickly, which you decide to use to your advantage. You ride him again and again, Pesci doing everything you tell him to, and making sure you come as many times as he does. He comes everywhere, inside you and out and on your chest, and makes quite the mess of you.

IT doesn’t stop him from pulling you into a passionate kiss and spooning when you’re both sated, mumbling his thanks and sweet compliments about you. You end up sleeping together that night, and in the morning the men tease him half to death about it, but you can tell Prosciutto's proud of him.

Melone:

Oh, he’s been WAITING for this day since you first joined the team, and now that it’s finally happening he can hardly believe it’s real. First he Manages to reactivate the babyface from today’s mission to grab his camera and record everything. Then, he grabs his chest of toys from his room to help you out. He has a hard time not just jumping in and screwing you into your mattress, but like everything in Melone’s life, he has a plan for this, and he intends to follow through with it. After getting a minute or two of just your moans recorded (just in case his “mission” is unsuccessful, at least he’ll have fap material for later, he decides to make himself known.

“You know, y/n, your arm’s are going to get worn out like that before you’re able to climax if you keep this up.” Melone chided you, sitting on your vanity stool, head in his hands like he wasn’t just watching you touch yourself. You scream, out of shock and anger this time, trying to cover yourself and yell at him to get out. Melone’s incredibly stubborn however, and the tongue of a snake, and is able to persuade you into letting him stay, be it from charm, blackmail, or perhaps tapping into your own dark desires.

He starts by merely watching you, taking pictures with his phone and directing babyface on angles to take video. He instructs you on how to touch yourself, and gives you free range on his collection of toys. It all feels good, and you are able to come, but you’re still unsatisfied, to your disappointment. As if knowing this would be the result all along, Melone plays dumb and makes YOU beg him to touch and fuck you.

Once you finally give in, though, he’s much nicer to you, and to no one’s surprise is an excellent lover. He licks your pussy until you come again, and then finger fucks you once more for good measure, before pulling out his copy of the Kama Sutra. He lets you pick out your favorite positions, as well as a few he thinks will give you the most pleasure, and you tire yourself out.

Ghiaccio:

Ghiacchio does NOT want to deal with your loud noises right now, and he ESPECIALLY doesn’t want to deal with the “problem” it’s caused him personally. He breaks your door down, fully intending to chew you out for being so….”distracting” but ironically enough, Ghiacchio freezes when he sees you. He doesn’t have the most experience with dating, especially not with women (I imagine what limited experience he has was with other passione members *cough* Melone *cough*) so seeing you fully bare in front of him is a lot.

The noises you made haven’t helped either, halfway pained and desperate, it makes Ghiaccio oddly jealous; he wants to be the one that makes you make those noises. So before you can chase him out, or cover yourself, he tackles you on the bed, sloppily kissing and touching you. He’s rough, as you could have probably guessed, but also weirdly shy and gentle? For example, he fingers you so roughly and quickly you cum squirting within minutes, but he’s looking you in the eyes the entire time and gaging your expressions/reactions. He’s got a giant blush on his face, almost like he’s ashamed of doing this, but then bites your shoulder while he spears himself inside of you with a snarl.

Good news: you are no longer the loudest one in the house, Ghiacchio progressively growling then shouting the closer he is to climax. He jackhammers you with incredible speed, and bends your body in half to suit his own purposes. It takes him a couple rounds until he’s fully sated, but then he gets really soft afterwards. He likes to spoon you from behind so you don’t see his face, but he holds you gently, rubbing your shoulders where he nipped you, and soothing your sore muscles.

Risotto:

Let’s be honest: this isn’t his first time hearing you masterbate, he’s heard everyone in the base do it at least once. Hell, he’s even walked in on Melone a dozen times, once with Ghiacchio, so that’s not the issue. What is the issue, however, is that you’re being so loud and obvious he can’t ignore it. Even putting aside his personal feelings for you (which he isn’t necessarily willing to do) it would be bad if you were keeping yourself pent up like this around the others. You could be distracted on missions and hurt yourself or mess up your hit. Or worse- you could go to the others for sexual relief.

Clearly, you needed help, and it was your capo’s responsibility to help you take care of it, and only him. He turns invisible and sneaks into your room, but he needn’t have tried so hard to be stealthy. You were clearly in your own little world, fucking yourself on your fingers, crying out over the wet squelching of your aching pussy. He touches you lightly, so lightly you barely notice, while he’s still invisible. Sure, Risotto’s more than happy to do this, and he doesn’t care if you or the others know about his feelings, but he’s still a little shy, and unsure how you’ll react.

He’s worried for nothing, however, when you unconsciously rock into his touch, palming your breasts and licking the sweat off your brow. You’re confused about the phantom touches lingering on your body and invisible force rubbing your clit, but too aroused to do anything about it. You merely relax your tired body, letting yourself be finger-fucked into climax, crying out in pleasure-pain from the large, rough hands raking orgasm after orgasm out of your body.

After Risotto’s able to finger you enough to (he hopes) sufficiently stretch you out, he repositions your limp body, fluffing pillows under your head and placing you to face his still invisible body. He rubs the head of his cock against your clit and entrance, collecting as much lubrication onto his cock as he can. At the last minute, Risotto turns himself invisible, and watches the look of surprise and embarrassment turn into red hot need as he bottoms out into your aching, tender pussy.

He doesn’t go easy on you, each thrust hitting the deepest parts of you, forcing squeals out of you every time. You wrap your arms around him, trying to take some sort of control of the situation, but Risotto doesn’t give you an inch as he fucks the daylights out of you. Your moans spur him on, having gone from non-specific mewling to begging for Risotto to go deeper, harder, “more, more, more!” Risotto likes this side of you best, completely under his control and telling him exactly what he’s doing to you.

Far too soon, you orgasm again, already sensitive from your previous orgasms. Risotto isn’t done though, and doesn’t finish for several hours. Even when the others go home, and are tempted to say something, they hear who’s name you’re calling, and think twice before interrupting their capo’s “alone time.” Finally, after finishing, You pass out almost immediately, too exhausted to even clean yourself off. So, Risotto takes care of you, cleaning up your mess, putting some comfy pjs on you, and fetching some water and painkillers (just in case).

When he walks out of your room, the Squad is silent, no one daring to say anything (Ghiacchio and Formaggio are physically restraining Melone from talking). Risotto sees no need to say anything to them either, merely gives them all an unreadable look, before smiling to himself and returning to your room. Tomorrow, he’s going to need to rearrange the schedule; you’ll need some time off to recover.

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thessalian · 2 years ago

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Thess vs Staffing Issues

It’s taking me some time to figure out how to frame my answer to the question “how was your day?” just now. Because honestly, work is weird.

So. You know how I was saying that we were pretty heavily understaffed for a lot of this week? Well, most of that is actually done and dusted, and Temp won’t actually even be a temp for much longer (though I’m going to call her that anyway, because she’s only committing to a six-month contract and also I’m fed up with her still leaving the complicated typing for other people). However, some of that understaffing is ... kinda permanent.

Summary: Sid quit.

Slightly expanded summary: look, Sid’s got health issues - different ones to the ones I have, but let’s just say I am not the only person who was asking about working from home. Thing is, that whole situation has been kicked into the tall grass for about a year now, as I think I mentioned. That and some other stuff basically got Sid writing what I’m told was a truly epic verbal beatdown email and walking out.

Thing is? The only reason any of us found out about this is because Temp happened to have seen Sid’s ... let’s be kind and say ‘resignation email’. Scruffman didn’t mention that Sid had even left, never mind the circumstances. Which, honestly, is exactly what we’re getting about his previous manager - the one between Scruffman and Head Honcho on the managerial totem pole; the one who was dealing with all my occupational health stuff. That particular manager just ... wasn’t in one day, and the only reason I heard about it was because I had a regular meeting scheduled with her once a fortnight and I had to be told that it wasn’t going to happen “for the foreseeable future”. But that was it - I didn’t know whether it was ill health, she was fired, she quit, what.

Now, Scruffman took a half-day today - came in early specially and left as soon as I came in. Which means that the conversation around the office was very much about Scruffman being ... well, a really poor communicator and unutterably avoidant about things. I mean, this was the man who told my temp agency that they were terminating my contract but didn’t bother mentioning that to me, figuring the agency would do it (and the agency should have, but you’d think that after months of doing an excellent job, he’d have at least said, “It’ll be a shame to see you go” at some point before close of play Friday afternoon). The others have similar stories. But he also throws a bit of a fit if someone talks to Head Honcho about a situation. Like, it came up that I’d emailed Head Honcho about the work from home thing and Scruffman, to whom I hadn’t even been speaking at the time, said, “I was handling that!”

Yeah, well, you should have kept me updated, then. If I get no answers, I’ll just try another avenue. That is what a secretary does.

So leave us simply say that the atmosphere’s a little fraught at the office right now and I don’t think I’ll be seeing the Tiny God of Random Days Off for awhile. At least not until and unless they replace Sid. Which I hope they do because our typing queue is still in triple-figures and I’m getting saddled with more of the long typing than I am able for on bad days because Temp avoids them, and we need someone to take that particular burden off me because gods know Temp’s not giving up her cherry-picking ways. Anyway, without the full house that Sid allowed us, no more random days off.

On the bright side, I have strawberries and nectarines in the dehydrator, and I made my very first risotto, which is gorgeous and has left me with many leftovers. However, mental note - don’t make risotto when tired. It’s not exactly difficult but it requires time and handling stuff in stages and is fiddly. Next up: cottage pie (like shepherd’s pie except ground beef instead of ground lamb).

#Thess has a day job #Thess cooks

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jostepherjoestar · 4 years ago

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Drawing inspiration to this request —> [Hi dear 🖤 La Squadra's reaction to their fem reader's rough and low voice. She is a La Squadra member] May I please request what would La Squadra's reaction be to a member that never speaks who finally speaks for the first time and she has the sweetest and cutest voice ever despite looking very intimidating and cold? Turns out, she's a total shy sweetheart that just looks cold and intimidating since she's part of la squadra

Quiet and intimidating La Squadra member who actually has the cutest voice (fem reader)

Before we start, I’ve reached 100 followers!!! Thank you all so much, I wanna squish all of ur lovely faces!!! Now onto the fun stuff! Made these a bit longer in celebration :))) they’re more like little scenarios

Risotto

Risotto liked the fact that you were more quiet than the rest of his team. It’s not that he hates the noise, it’s just a nice change to have someone who rarely even speaks... now that he thinks of it you’ve actually never spoken around them. He liked that the two of you had the same aura surrounding you, intimidating and perhaps a bit cold.

He’d grown curious to what your voice may sound like, his ears like that of an alert cat whenever he heard an unfamiliar voice around him. Always disappointed to see that it wasn’t you.

What he didn’t know is that you were just horribly shy and never thought you had anything useful to add to the wild conversations. (your own thoughts were wrong ofc)

When you finally spoke for the first time it was to ask about details of a mission, Risotto and you were going on a mission together, alone, for the first time and he hadn’t provided that much details. Which unbeknownst to you was his plan all along. He can be a sly bastard.

You quietly asked him what the plan was after you got his attention when stepping into his office. He couldn’t believe his own ears when he heard the sweetest little voice coming from you. Of course he asked you to repeat yourself and when you did, louder than before, he had to try his hardest to cover up the massive smile growing on his lips.

On the mission itself, you talked more and more to him, warming up to conversation. Risotto felt his heart skip a beat every time you did. He never knew how much he’d appreciate such a cute one like you.

Formaggio

Formaggio had been trying his hardest to make you talk or even produce any sound at all. Telling joke after joke, calling your name out in the middle of a different conversation so you’d perhaps even just say “Yes, what?”. He’d even tried scaring you, using his stand to shrink himself and hiding behind the coffee machine.

Of course his prank didn’t work, you almost threw him in the trash with an unamused look. But whenever Formaggio truly did his best you walked away from him with a cold look. When you were in a different room you’d silently laugh or let out a big sigh, if only he knew how shy you were and that you’d love to talk to him, but it was yourself stopping you from it.

He liked you, he knew that, you knew that. But when it came to your opinion on him, he actually wasn’t so sure and it gnawed at him. He’d grown a bit insecure, to calm his own thoughts he decided he’d ask you tonight.

He came into your room with a quiet knock while he opened the door, seeing you at your little desk reading a book. Greeting you, he sounded a bit off which worried you, you doing your best to stay stoic. “Do you like me? You know, as a person? Cause I get the feeling you don’t.” the question visibly surprised you. You put down the book and walked over to him, he wasn’t sure what you were planning by the sweat starting to form on his forehead. “Of course I like you Formaggio.” you said in earnest, holding the side of his arm.

That’s it, the man is now a mere puddle on the floor. Your soft, sweet voice mixed with the utter shock has made him melt. He excused himself with a smile and ran out of your room yelling in the hallway that you liked him. He wanted all of Italy to know.

Illuso

Illuso had been intrigued by your cold and quiet nature. Every chance he got he studied your behaviour, trying to figure you out. He didn’t really find out much, only being able to study your habits. In his mirror world he tried his best to observe you, trying to even include a few new extra mirrors in your room.

But after finding weird new mirrors you’d grown suspicious of him and threw them all out. Your room would be a mirror free zone to Illuso’s chagrin. You didn’t dislike him, it was just that his sneaking and investigating bothered you. At least the others made an attempt to talk to you.

He grew tired of waiting, frustrated even that you never talked and he was having a hard time figuring you out. He was good assassin, confident in his own skills. He had to think outside of the box to get you to talk or just catch you doing it.

After much thought he decided on a plan. No plan. He accepted that everything he would concoct would just push you away, a top notch assassin like you knew when they were being played with.

When you woke up today, you felt light and the soft sunshine made you feel positively energised. Everything around you was quiet, no conversations downstairs, no clattering in the kitchen, no showers running. You hummed along to a song while brushing your hair in the bathroom, for a moment feeling completely at ease.

The door was open, not having bothered to close it since no one seemed to be home. But Illuso was. He stood in the doorway, a smile on his face, it finally worked. The soft melodic hums putting him on fluffy pink clouds, wanting the cute voice to soothe him to sleep tonight. Content with what he’d heard, he silently walked away. You knew he was there and honestly relieved that he didn’t approached you, you’d have turned bright red from embarrassment if he did.

Prosciutto

Prosciutto sighed after realising he’d have another Risotto to look out for. Don’t get him wrong he had great respect and love towards his capo and good friend, but he worried about him. Perhaps too much. So he did what he did to Risotto before. Give you space.

He know’s that pushing you or forcing you to talk would only have the opposite effect. The silent communication you had of nods was enough for now.

The way you were around him made him softer, to his own surprise and chagrin. Of course he cared for his teammates and capo, but don’t let them know all the time and so openly. They’ll get cocky.

It comforted you knowing the space he was giving you, thankful that he hadn’t pushed you. In the beginning you were a little intimidated by him, his stern looks really chilled you to the bone. But his deep voice and (weirdly aggressive) pep talks showed you his more approachable side.

You had tried multiple times to talk to him, you’d built up your courage and were so close to opening your mouth to talk when someone always came and interrupted. Sometimes you even felt a little relieved when they did.

On a quiet afternoon Prosciutto invited you to the empty sitting room, small espresso cups in hand. You felt a little nervous since it was just the two of you, hand shaking a little as you grabbed your cup. The shaking causing you to spill coffee on your knee, the hot liquid burning a red spot on the exposed skin of your leg. You sighed out a ‘Merda!’ as you patted you leg dry.

A sly smile growing on Prosciutto’s face, finally your little facade had cracked a little. You could hear him chuckle in front of you. “Who knew such a sweet voice could produce such nasty words.”

Pesci

This man was quite intimidated by you and your cold exterior. It made you laugh in private since you were shy and sweet just like Pesci. Because you could see your reflection in him, you hung out around him a lot. Just silently watching tv together, sitting next to him at meetings, cooly handing him your leftovers at dinner when he still had room left for more.

It made Pesci blush, your sweet gestures not matching the cold expressions. But on the inside you felt so comfortable and perhaps a bit jealous that Pesci wasn’t as shy as you and expressed himself so honestly.

But the cold expression and the limited eye contact during you friendly offerings were not because you didn’t like him, it was because if your eyes met you’d also be blushing at the sweet man in front of you.

Still, after all your silent offerings he was not assured to approach you by himself. He was cautious and also didn’t want to push you out of your comfort if you didn’t feel like talking. He’d create awkward silences that didn’t even need to be uncomfortable, he just couldn’t help himself.

Whenever there was time, between the jobs that offered enough physical training, you’d all train together. On one of these days, everyone was working hard, sparring, lifting and running to built up stamina. You were done with your exercises, muscles tired, body sweaty but feeling the rush of the after workout bliss. Pesci was on his last set of arm lifts when you walked over.

His arms were shaking and it looked like he was on his last straw. The bar resting on his chest as he took deep breaths. You stood behind him, signalling you’d spot him for safety. His strong arms shaking under the weights, struggling to do the last lift. “Come on Pesci, I know you can do it.” Your sweet encouragement was loud enough for him to hear but not so loud that the others noticed.

With one last grunt he pushed up the weights, an excited sound ringing out loudly as he puts the weights back on the rests. His face seemed red from the strain but the goofy smile betrayed him, it was you that did that to him.

Melone

Oh little melon man figured you out so fast. He was of course polite and friendly to you, always the gentleman (you’d be surprised at how nice and considerate he could be) but behind all this he was waiting patiently.

He knew as soon as he noticed your cold facade and silent nature that you were hiding a sweetness behind it. But he was excruciatingly patient, to a degree that he didn’t even care anymore about hearing your voice or seeing you smile for once. Just the excitement of waiting for you to crack is what invigorated him.

His behaviour worried you, you’d known from seeing him interact with the others what he was like and it was blatantly obvious that he treated you different. He left you alone, didn’t push of prod, didn’t joke around to extract a reaction.

You were already shy but the way he was acting made you even more nervous. Maybe perhaps a little angry since you knew the game he was playing and you felt yourself losing. The way he acted actually making you want to talk to him, wanting him to give you the attention he gave to others so teasingly.

You decided you were going to play along, while also working against him. At least trying to reverse the effect of his game. You’d dress a little more provocatively, bending and pushing your best assets forwards whenever he was near, knowing that was an easy way to get his attention.

You weren’t even sure you wanted him in that way, pining over your body. But you had to play dirty if that’s the way he did things. But nothing worked, every attempt failed. He didn’t budge, his sly smiles only lasting longer, he knew he was winning.

Melone was sitting comfortably on his legs on the couch, he looked lost in thought when you approached. You made sure no one was around. Defeated and not even sure why you were even going to reward him. “You win, Melone.” You plopped down next to him with a deep sigh. Your sweet voice like heavenly harps at the gates of heaven to Melone’s ears. “Well played, kitten. You almost got me, maybe if you kept going you’d have actually won.” he purred while winking. Oh you could kill him right now...maybe you will. Just a little.

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio didn’t mind your quietness at all. But he made you nervous and, afraid to set him off if you did something wrong or looked at him the wrong way. He’d notice your shoulders tense up every time he yelled, he wasn’t yelling at you though, probably at Melone.

It got him a little fired up that he made you tense, perhaps more at himself since never actually wants to be mad, it just happens. He’s been avoiding you for a while now.

You’d noticed him acting cold to you and avoiding even the slightest contact between each other. It made you wonder if it was your fault. If only there was a way to help this problem out of the way. Oh wait there is, it’s called communication. But you just couldn’t do it, not yet.

Both too stubborn or scared of talking to each other, it continued. Your teammates also noticing the air in the room get colder once Ghiaccio and you entered. Risotto and Prosciutto weren’t really sure what to do, no idea what the actual problem was, and you weren’t talking. Ghiaccio wasn’t either.

The idea sprung to Prosciutto to get you in the same room together and not let you out until you’d talked about it. And as dumb as it sounds, his plan proceeded, Ghiaccio was already in Risotto’s office, the capo also part of the plan. Luring you in was easy enough, since you didn’t know that Ghiaccio was in there already.

By god they ‘Parent Trapped’ you. You sat in the chair next to Ghiaccio who had slowly begun calming down. His tirade of insults at the closed door had already come and gone. It felt like an hour had passed, it actually did, before he began talking. “Why do you get so tense around me? I know I get angry but it’s rightfully so. There’s just so many stupid people. I’d never actually hurt you or the others. Not that much...” he sighed, finally saying what’s been on his mind.

“You’ve talked to everyone but me. Am I that horrible?” he sounded so sad when he talked, almost a whisper. You couldn’t handle your own silence anymore. “You’re not horrible, I- I just don’t know how to-.” you couldn’t string the right words together but Ghiaccio understood. Your sweet voice softening the emotions. The two of you actually hugged it out, but you’d never let Risotto or Prosciutto get the satisfaction of knowing that.

#this was so fun to do and i'm quite proud of the results #hope you like it!!#jjba x reader #jjba headcanons #cozy request #la squadra headcanons #la squadra x reader #risotto x reader #formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #melone x reader #ghiaccio x reader #fem reader #sfw

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nalgenewhore · 4 years ago

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anything and everything

elide x lorcan, modern au, sick fic/domestic fluff, word count: 1874

The clock at the back of his classroom showed that there was two minutes left until lunch. The history teacher knew he’d lost his students three minutes ago, and tossed his printed copy of the PowerPoint onto his meticulously organised desk. “Alright, guys, I think that’s enough for today. Pack up and get out of here, yeah?”

The sounds of rustling paper and shuffling bags filled the room. Lorcan unplugged his laptop from the projector and clicked it off, pushing the cart back to its corner. He heard his grade twelves’ easy conversations and jokes as they filed out, bidding him good-bye.

“Bye, Mr. S,” Evangeline called, waving as she walked out, “thank you!”

“You’re welcome, Evangeline. Have a good day,” Lorcan replied. No one else was in his classroom, so he pushed in the chairs and picked up the stray pencils that had been left.

He slid his laptop into his bag and slung the leather strap over his shoulder. Lorcan left the blinds down from when they’d been drawn for the video he’d shown and flicked the lights off before he closed and locked the door.

His hands were shoved in his pockets as he walked to the teacher’s lounge. Lorcan was the first there and he decided to call home, his phone in his back pocket.

As the phone rang, Lorcan grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit and rinsed it before he ate it.

His fiancée picked up after two rings and sounded even more congested and hoarse than she’d been in the morning, “Hello, love. How’s your day going?” Elide coughed loudly, the sound deep and from her chest, “I’m feeling so much better, honestly, baby. I think I’ll just pop in and teach my last few class–”

“Lee, you're sick. You'll collapse before you get to the front gate and you know it,” he said, nodding to Rowan, who walked in with Aelin and Lysandra. Nesryn couldn’t have been that far behind them.

Elide huffed, knowing he was right and hating it, “I’m not sick, I’m not even barfing! I’m just achy and I have a cough, I’m fine.”

“You have the flu, Elide. You do not have the energy to teach two classes - stay home.”

She muttered something and Lorcan could practically hear her eye roll. “Fine. I can do video calls anyway, bye-bye, L, love you!”

“That is not what I meant, Elide,” he protested, but Elide hung up. Lorcan sighed through his nose and put his phone in his pocket once more. The rest of the apple was gone in two bites.

From one of the tables, the blonde science teacher looked over at him, a bite of leftover risotto and pink salmon on her fork, “Was that our Ellie dear? How is she?”

“Stubborn and petty,” Lorcan grumbled in good nature. He tossed his apple core into the compost bin, “I’m done for the day, so I’m going home. Please don’t call me if you need help.” His colleagues laughed mockingly at his inconsiderate remark and Lorcan smirked, saluting them as he walked out. “Bye, guys. Have a good day.” He walked down the hall, waving and nodding to students he recognised.

Lorcan passed two of his favourites, Luca and Evangeline. They stopped him to talk and they chatted about Luca’s upcoming debate and Evangeline’s English presentation. He wished them both luck and continued on, all but refusing to acknowledge any of his other colleagues. Lorcan didn’t have anything against them, save for a few, but he didn’t want to be dragged into a long conversation with them when his girl was home sick and miserable.

Outside, it was raining, but light enough that it was more of a mist than any noticeable precipitation. Lorcan got into their old Volkswagen Jetta - the car that Elide had saved for during her last year of high school to buy - and pulled out of the parking lot, going slowly around the meandering students and teachers alike.

Since he hadn’t eaten lunch yet and he had been dreading his tuna salad sandwich all day, Lorcan stopped by the local Blackbeak restaurant. He bought pierogies, borscht, sausage, and cabbage rolls. Knowing Elide loved them so, he added on an order of sweet, apple-filled piroshkis and sweet tea.

Luckily, the wait wasn’t long and he tipped them well when they handed him the containers in two plastic bags, including a tray for their tea. Lorcan carried their food back to the car and put it on the passenger seat, carefully fitting the cups of tea in the cup holders.

Lorcan got back in his seat and drove on, more slowly this time so the food would remain untouched. He’d tossed his phone onto the dash and it rang. He glanced over at it and saw Elide calling him. Since he was driving, Lorcan didn’t pick up and he would be home soon enough.

He came to a stop at a red light and looked over at the text she sent him.

princess: r u too busy to answer me cause ur with ur new WHORE.

princess: dont even come home tn im so over ur disrespectful ass. smh. 🙄. cant believe i ever trusted a MAN.

princess: bby im so hungry tell me what to get i cant decide 🥺 pls help me ill b so nice to uuuuuu ❤🖤🥰🥰😘

Lorcan laughed and shook his head, driving on home. He pulled up in front of their townhouse a mere five minutes later. Carefully, Lorcan balanced everything and locked the car. He walked through the front gate and up the stone pathway.

Somehow, he managed to carry everything and unlocked the front door. When he walked in, he heard someone’s long nails tapping across a laptop keyboard. Lorcan chuckled quietly and put his bags down. He hung up his jacket, put his keys in the silver dish next to Elide’s, and toed off his shoes.

Lorcan walked down the hallway and passed the staircase, putting their food on the kitchen counter. Then, he rolled up the sleeves of his wool sweater and white shirt. He walked upstairs, “Lee? You in bed?”

He passed their shared office and leaned against the doorframe, eyes landing on his fiancée. Elide had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her dark hair pushed up in a messy bun. Her thick glasses were perched on the edge of her nose and when she looked up at him, Elide pushed them back up, “Oh, hi, love.” She looked back at her laptop and colour-coordinated lesson plan, still typing. “I didn’t know you were coming home, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Evidently I did because my fiancée refuses to rest,” he said, shoving off the door and walking in. She rolled her eyes and frowned. Lorcan walked around to her side and crouched, twisting her chair around, “Elide. You’re sick. Your students are not going to be affected if you take a day or two off, now please. Can you just get back in bed? For me?”

She clicked her tongue and sighed, “That’s cheating. You can’t say it’s for you when you know I’d do anything for you.”

Lorcan smirked and cupped her face, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone, “Just doing what I can.” He surveyed her, his eyes not missing a thing. There was a slight sheen of sweat on her brow and her eyes were tired. Her skin was paler and more pallid than usual, the only spot of colour on the tip of her nose. She was restraining herself, but Lorcan could see her shivering. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… fine.”

He arched a brow. Elide sighed through her nose and looked to the side.

“Fine. I feel like shit. I’m tired and I have a headache and I’m so, so tired,” she whispered, tipping herself forward and leaning into him. “I hated that you left this morning. I wanted to be with you and… and let you take care of me.”

Lorcan smiled softly and got to his feet, picking her up as well. Her head fell against his shoulder and he held her with one arm banded beneath her thighs. He cut off the camera and sent a bland message before signing out and turning it off. As he carried her out, Lorcan asked, “Are you hungry? Have you eaten anything?”

Elide shook her head, “No… I was sleeping.”

“I got food. Blackbeak,” he told her, smiling when she gasped wondrously.

“O-m-giness.” Elide said softly, dancing her shoulders around. “You’re the best, baby. Did you get piroshki? The- the sweet one. With apple.”

“Mm-hmm,” he said, pushing her hair back again. “And pierogies, tea, sausage, and cabbage rolls. Everything, even soup.”

“I love you so fuckin’ much, man,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. Elide’s face was comfortably hidden in the crook of his neck. She could smell his cedar cologne, the lavender dryer ball on his sweater, and the sweetgrass he’d smudged with. “We should watch When Harry Met Sally.”

Lorcan huffed a laugh through his nose and kissed the side of her head, “Yeah. Sally’s a spaz.”

“And Harry’s an inconsiderate asshat,” Elide replied, squeezing her thighs around his hips.

They crossed through the door of their bedroom and Lorcan set her down on their bed. He left her be, letting her manoeuvre into her little nest of blankets, quilts, and a duvet.

He changed into sweatshorts and a hoodie with their university’s logo before going downstairs. On his way, he re-did his hair in some tiered, sloppy and loopy bun.

In the kitchen, he played some random song from his phone and bobbed his head as he served them both food.

Lorcan carried their plates and bowls back upstairs. Elide got up to help her when he got to their room. On the TV that opposited their bed showed the main menu of When Harry Met Sally. He laughed quietly and shook his head, sitting down beside her and getting comfortable.

Elide hummed delightedly and pressed play from her phone. She took the tea first and drank it quickly, suddenly ravenous. Lorcan passed her water and medicine. Elide took it and ate her beet soup, sans sour cream.

The movie played and Lorcan ate his pierogies, gently sipping on his own tea.

Done first, Elide put her dish to the side and leaned into him. She mouthed the lines, her eyes slowly falling shut. Lorcan grinned and finished the cabbage roll before easing out from under her and taking their things back downstairs.

He got her more citrus tea and went back upstairs. The flu-ridden woman woke up when he got in bed and resituated herself.

“I got the vaccine, baby,” Elide muttered, her arms wrapped around his neck, “and I’m still sick. I’m anti-vax now. They’re hoaxes.”

Lorcan sighed through his nose, still adoring her dramatics. “You can’t say that to your students, Lee. They believe anything.”

The chemistry teacher smacked his chest, “They arent dumb! They’re just…”

“Stupid,” Lorcan finished her sentence. “C’mon, I had a student who didn’t know Terrasen’s capital. He was born here, Elide.”

She snorted and hid her face in his neck. “I love you.”

“Forever and always, Lee.”

☽ ☼ ☾

an: i luv them. omg.

@mythicaitt @werewolffprince @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @thegoddessofyou @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @claralady @neonhellas @darlinminds @readingismyonlyhobby @autophobiaxx @silversprings28 @myshadowsingeraz @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @elriel4life @always-in-a-daydream @jlinez @ladywitchling @mariamuses @darklesmylove @adelzd-bookblr

#cute cute cuties <3 #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore

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jiantan · 3 years ago

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Operation: Cheer Up Buddy || Jian & Minjoon

When: May 7, 2021

Where: Jian’s apartment, Santa Monica, California

Featuring: Minjoon Song (dialogue provided by Katie @minjoonie-song)

Triggers: Drunkenness

Joonie dropped his phone on the couch where he’d been laying around after Jian’s last text, making a checklist of things as he dove head first into Operation: Cheer Up Jian. Hm. Scratch that. Operation: Cheer Up Buddy. Code name: CUB. During his internal rambling, that admittedly did make him smile, Joonie grabbed one of his favourite blankets and threw it into the dryer to make sure it was warm when he took it over. After steps two, three and four of his amazing plan; put on pants, gather food and get the blanket out, Joonie was using his foot to knock on Jian’s door, hugging the blanket to keep it as toasty as possible.

Jian was laying on the floor of his living room, three drinks in. Who would’ve thought Mike’s Hard Lemonade would actually taste good? Not Jian. His co-worker Stanley was right. But now Jian was drunk and thinking about his ex. He remembered that he was dumped by the person he thought was his soulmate two years ago to the date and had to throw himself a pity party to celebrate. As he heard a knock on the door, he groaned and rolled around before getting up and answering. “Minjoon, hi...” he said, realizing in that moment that he was wearing Christmas penguin pajama pants.

Joonie greeted Jian with a smile and a quiet hi as he set down the picnic basket so he could drape the blanket over his shoulders. “Warm and soft always makes me feel better.” Minjoon smiled, retrieving the basket again and patting the lid lightly. “Food too. I brought things to make you either the best mushroom risotto you’ll ever eat ever or the best pizza bagels you’ll ever eat. Depends on how soon you feel up to eating.”

He blinked at Minjoon in confusion, almost forgetting about the texts he had sent not long ago. “I, uh, I’ve never had pizza bagels before,” he admitted. His parents considered it to be junk food, and they never kept much junk food in the house. As an adult, Jian internalized their lessons about healthy eating, but he occasionally went to drive-thrus after long days at work. “Have you ever had Mike’s Hard Lemonade before? My co-worker said it was tasty and I didn’t believe him, but it does taste like lemonade!” He snuggled up in the blanket, bringing it closer to his face. “This smells nice.”

“Pizza bagels it is! And they’ll be the yummiest you’ll ever eat ever and they’ll ruin all other pizza bagels for you forever.” Minjoon nodded confidently. He may have been biased, considering he’d made both the bagels and the sauce he brought over. “Um.. nope. I can’t say I have. I like making cocktails because it’s about flavours and that’s like my one skill. I mostly like wine though because of how well it pairs with food and I love food so that’s mostly what I drink if I’m at home or a friends.” He felt his face flush when Jian commented on the blanket. “Ah, that’s my uh.. I have a pillow mist? It’s lavender, jasmine and sandalwood. I put it on my blankets too because it’s supposed to be soothing.”

“Oh. I guess I’m trying new things today.” He was genuinely interested to see how this would turn out. “I don’t like too many alcohols because of the taste. I liked the cocktails you made that one time because they tasted like fruits. Every beer I’ve ever tried tasted like wet bread. I think I tried wine once and didn’t like it.” Most of his alcohol-based misadventures occurred during college. He tried a bunch of different things but disliked most of them. “Your pillow mist is nice. You’re nice.”

“You’ll have fun, I promise. If not fun, you’ll at least have a full tummy.” Joonie put his hand on Jian’s shoulder to guide him back slightly and let himself in so he could close the door behind himself. “We don’t want the little ones escaping. Ollie, really. Reggie will probably take some time but better safe than sorry.” Minjoon could only nod in agreement at the opinion on the drinks. “Yeah, I’m not really a beer drinker. I don’t really like it but cocktails that don’t taste like alcohol are the best. Except for the fact that you can just drink them like juice and get drunker than you want to. Do you really like it? I can get you some.”

"Having a full tummy is a good idea. I didn't eat dinner yet." He didn't have any plans for dinner and was most likely going to eat leftovers before Joonie arrived. "Reggie is in his tank. I'm not sure where Ollie is. He's probably asleep on my bed. Or in my laundry hamper." If he was awake, he would have already darted for the door. "I don't think I need any more alcohol. I'll just become more sad." Too much alcohol made him sad and he never figured out how to fix that.

“This won’t come as a surprise but I’m full of good ideas when it comes to food. Mostly because my ideas just involve eating and that’s always a good idea.” Joonie nodded when Jian explained where the pets were, not quite sure where Jian’s room or the hamper was so he couldn’t try and peek to wave at Ollie. “No, I don’t think you should drink any more unless it water or juice.” He paused slightly, looking at the bags he brought before he set them down where he stood and opened his arms. “Do you want a hug?”

"You do love food... I don't mean that as a bad thing. Just an observation. You make good food and you have good taste." The last thing Jian wanted was for Joonie to think he was insulting his weight or eating habits. When asked whether he wanted a hug, he hesitated. He knew a hug would feel very nice and comforting right now, but he was afraid he'd start crying if he was hugged. He didn't want to be perceived as a pathetic baby, even though he felt like one on the inside. After a moment of silence, he caved in, burying his face in his friend's shoulder.

“I really do. It’s always been that um.. Like a constant? It’s always been a source of comfort for me.” He wrapped Jian up in a hug when the other leaned into it, his crooked fingers stroking the hair at the nape of his neck before he was massaging it the way that always helped soothe him. “I’ve got you.”

“My computer and my gaming consoles have been my source of comfort since I was young. If I feel lonely or sad, I can play a game and become someone else for a little while.” As soon as he finished saying his thought aloud, he realized just how sad it sounded. He thought to himself, ’I really am pathetic.’ He took a few deep breaths, trying to keep it together as his friend touched his hair, until he finally snapped and started crying into Minjoon’s shoulder.

“That’s the same for everyone, isn’t it? Why we have so many games where we’re the hero? Where at the end of it, we’re the ones who save the day and everything is okay.” He hoped his reassurance came across as exactly that, a reassurance, and not him trying to invalidate Jian’s feeling of comfort. Joonie understood how hard it can be to open up, to spill secrets no matter how big or small. He wrapped his arms tighter around Jian, rest his chin on his shoulder and held him closer; another quiet “I’ve got you.” leaving him.

“I— I guess so. I haven’t put too much thought into it.” He wanted to be able to save the day and make everything okay in his own life, but he didn’t even think he was the main character of his story. If anything, he was the villain who ruined everything. “Why are you so nice?” he mumbled, squeezing Joonie even tighter.

“And that’s okay too. Not everything has to have a reason, you can enjoy things simply because they’re enjoyable.” Minjoon spoke softly, trying to be as gentle as possible with Jian so he knew he was in a safe space. “I’m not so nice, I’m Minjoon.” Even with the joke, he kept his voice light but still, the corners of his lips curled up slightly in amusement at himself as he squeezed back.

Jian sniffled, asking, “Like Animal Crossing?” He truly did play Animal Crossing just for the sake of playing it. There was no winning or losing in that game, just colorful animals. “No, but you really are a nice person. I don’t know what I did to deserve a nice friend like you.”

#self para #Minjoon Song

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magma-cjay · 4 years ago

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Lingering Fragments (cw: death, angst, implied suicide)

(foreword: ok MagmaCjay, you asked for it, don't say you weren't warned)

○○○○○○○○○○○○○

They were all dead. Every single one of them.

With great effort Risotto staggered toward the headquarters, limping painfully, his right leg dragging, and barely attached to his body by Metallica's power alone. Torn nearly off and barely hanging on by a few strands of muscle and tendon, and the ability of his Stand.

He had barely escaped his encounter with the unassuming young boy. A boy whom he knew had ties to the Boss. Who had mistreated him and his team for far too long. Who he was a fool to have underestimated. But he was lucky to escape with his life. Especially when Bucciarati's team intervened.

If one can consider me lucky, by any definition, Risotto thought.

His whole team was gone. He was the last man standing. The rest of his men, his family, slaughtered like swine by Bucciarati's team, and for what? Hadn't they sought to betray the boss as well? Hadn't they sought the same goal? Weren't they two teams on enemy sides, yet united with a common enemy?

It was all so damn unfair.

It wasn't long until Risotto neared the Hitman Squad hideout, a small, shabby and unassuming apartment that lay secluded in the Italian suburbs. A place where he and his crew dealt their shady deals to survive and hid from the wrath of the Boss. A place that was what many would call the dark, ominous underground of Italy's streets, but was a shelter for his men and himself.

A place that was the closest thing he could call a home.

Barging into the door, blood pouring from his numerous wounds, Risotto stumbled painfully into the living room with a cry of anguish. A cry that echoed through the empty halls of the hideout and gradually warbled away into silence. A painful, deafening silence that hurt Risotto far more than Aerosmith's bullets ever could.

He collapsed heavily onto the kitchen table, breathing heavily and wincing in pain. His dark inky eyes darted down onto the table, which was empty, save for a newspaper, and a plate of long-stale crackers, which were beginning to attract ants from their time left unattended.

Risotto's heart sank like lead as the gravity of what those meant struck him harder than any blow from the Boss's stand. The newspaper was spread out at a crossword puzzle, the date: April 1st, 2001. Risotto wished this was all a fool's day trick, but the silence was all too real. All too agonizing to endure.

The crossword puzzle was half-finished, with angry scribbles and incorrect answers that Risotto recalled too well. Of the angry hollers of Ghiaccio, as he struggled to comprehend words, while Formaggio mocked him playfully for his incompetence while snacking on the table.

Now the remnants of Formaggio's last meal lay untouched, as if silently awaiting their consumer. But there was none. Once wise-cracking, prank-pulling, now just a charred, cold corpse on a street somewhere. Would he at least be laid to rest by whoever found his body? thought Risotto. Or would he be left to rot, be picked away by rats and roaches like garbage? Like the garbage he had always been treated as, by the world, by society, by the very gang they had found themselves trapped in?

The unfinished crossword puzzle also brought Risotto little comfort. He had always loathed Ghiaccio's rambling, his angry ranting at the most trivial of things. But now Risotto ached for that irate voice. He would have given anything to hear that voice one last time. Not that Ghiaccio's throat, pierced right through the spine and out his windpipe, drowned slowly in his own blood by Giovanna and his gunman, would ever make another sound again.

Risotto glared at the crossword puzzle, and the one word that Ghiaccio had managed to fill. "An eight letter word synonymous with forever."

Eternity.

Eternity. How painfully appropriate. Gone for eternity, never to be seen or heard from again. Forever. Just like the only family he ever had, with this one word, inked out in a sanguine red on the faded parchment, as if an ominous tiding of death.

The sight of these leftovers were too much for Risotto to bear, and despite the agony he heaved himself off the kitchen chair, stumbling to the living room and throwing himself onto the couch. His blood stained the faded, torn cushions, as he pressed his face into a pillow and muffled a scream. He breathed in through his nose, and caught a waft of a familiar scent. Prosciutto's cologne. His favorite pefume that he wore before...that mission. Risotto felt a lump in his throat.

Everywhere he looked, everywhere he went, the house was filled with little remains of everyday things, which like nails further hammered in the loss in his already wounded heart and soul. Scents. Sights. Sounds, or the lack thereof.

His knee accidentally pressed something hard on the sofa and with a static whirr the television came on. It was a dramatic soap opera currently on air. Melone and Illuso's favorite television show, featuring soppy tales of love and romance which they dutifully watched day after day, despite mocking jabs from Formaggio and Ghiaccio about their tastes in genre.

And now they will never know how the show ends. The last he had heard of Melone was a report from Ghiaccio claiming to have heard him scream on the phone and lose contact. And Illuso...was gone. Not just dead, but gone: vanished without a trace, melted into thin air, with not even a hair or piece of clothing to remind the world that he ever was.

Would anyone remember them? Would anybody even care?

They were just criminals to the world, weren't they? The scum of the earth, filthy, cold-blooded killers. They were the monsters of society, and to anyone else? They'd say they deserved to die.

But to Risotto, they were family. His family. His brothers in a way, who were all dragged in this horrid life by the cruel twists of fate. He'd wished to have escaped from the trappings of this mafia, but they were mired too deep into the quicksands of crime. He regretted deep inside having turned them into this life of a gangster. Especially Pesci. He was too young, too naive. He never deserved a life like this. He never deserved to see his big brother crushed under the wheels of a locomotive, and be torn apart alive shortly after by that damn Bucciarati's stand to spend his final moments in pain and terror at the cold, freezing abyss of a lake.

He despised himself at not having been able to save them. Of having failed to free them from the binds of this miserable existence. But it was too late. Since the day Sorbet and Gelato befell their dreadful end, he swore that he would lose no more further. But he did. One by one. And every single day, Risotto returned to find his home a little bit emptier.

Until there was none.

He was all alone in this cold, cruel, void, everyone he had ever cared about but a distant memory or a pallid lifeless corpse. There was nothing left for him. No one to turn to. Not even Formaggio's uplifting cracking jokes or Prosciutto's affectionate reassurance. He hated Giovanna and his allies for everything they did. If he could, he wanted to take their lives with his own bare hands, make them pay for the pain they wrought. But what would it bring him? Satisfaction? Justice?

There is no justice in this wretched world, Risotto thought bitterly. That's why I am here in the first place.

He could murder Giovanna and Bucciarati and the Boss for all he cared, but the damage was already done. Nothing he could do would bring back his family. They were dead, gone forever, and all of his efforts would have been in vain.

There was nothing left for him, but a future of emptiness.

Why did he have to suffer? What did he do to deserve all this? They were bad people who did bad things, but it wasn't their fault they were forced to become what they were. Risotto whimpered like a frightened child as he curled up on the bloodstained sofa, embracing himself tightly in a futile effort to make the pain go away, the pain of his body's wounds, and the agony that seared his soul like hellfire.

He wanted the pain to end.

A gleam caught his eye, down next to the sofa. Something black and shiny lay tucked against one side of the cushions It was Prosciutto's spare revolver, which he kept in good condition, and kept hidden away in case his original was lost or damaged if a mission went wrong.

It couldn't have gone more wrong.

Everything had gone wrong.

Their entire life had gone wrong.

With trembling hands and heaving breath Risotto reached out for the revolver and felt its cold, hard steel touch menacingly, and yet enticingly, to his stiff, shivering fingers.

Maybe this would make the pain go away.

For eternity.

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

(afterword: yeah, told you this would get really depressing. i didn't know if Risotto would kill himself or choose to continue living, in which case he would just suffer all the more so yeah i never made a chapter two. oh well. sorry all you squadra fans for making you cry today)

#jjba #jjba part 5 #la squadra #tw death #tw suicide implication #okay first of all let me just-#*SOBS*#you are a talented writer and have too much power #holy shit #my heart wrenches now #thanks you weren't joking #submission

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alostsock · 4 years ago

Text

Tired for so long.

TW: Basically undiagnosed depression, disordered eating, weight loss (and the usual blood).

Summary: Sometimes Nicky finds existing inexplicably hard. I suppose this could be considered backstory to For everyone but you?

Booker’s off doing Booker things idunno (he just... didn’t show up in this)

Alternative summary: Nicky gets low and says “fuck self-care.”

---

Sometimes Andy sees the signs before Joe does. Joe wonders if it’s his own fault for not wanting to see the signs - if he subconsciously wants Nicky to be okay so badly that he doesn’t notice when he first starts slipping, that he writes it off as isolated bad days, and not the beginning of something.

He catches Andy sneaking worried glances at Nicky enough times to make him suspicious, though, so when she casually suggests they take a break, lie low for a bit, Joe knows. His mind puts together all of the subtle clues, the little actions that spell out that something is not quite right (because Nicky always maintains that nothing is actually wrong).

Even with Andy’s suggestion, Nicky stubbornly puts forward one more mission, insisting that it’s important, refusing to acknowledge Andy and Joe’s concerned looks, never commenting on their insistence that he actually sit down with them at meals (even if he’ll only manage to pick at his food), brushing off their gentle, worried touches.

There isn’t much to Nicky on a good day, his build naturally slender, his body lean, but Joe sees the weight fall off with every avoided or half-eaten meal, sees the bruises under his eyes grow deeper with every sleepless night. He sees how, no matter how much Nicky tries to smile and keep going, things are just... hard.

When Nicky goes to pull off his bloody, ruined t-shirt when they get home from yet another messy gunfight, Joe cringes at how he can see the outline of every one of his ribs and every ridge of his spine as he leans over to pull clean clothes out of his bag for after his shower. Seeing Nicky’s hands tremble as he straightens, even that small change in elevation making him dizzy, Joe knows that there is no more avoiding this. They need a break.

Over dinner, as Nicky stares at his plate absently, pushing the small serving of risotto that he had begrudgingly allowed Joe to give him around in circles (risotto that Nicky himself had made fresh, the glorious aroma of which had made Joe’s mouth water before it was even served) Joe catches Andy’s eye, and knows she’s in agreement.

They’re in England, only a few hours’ drive from a cottage by the sea that has always been one of Nicky’s favourites. As they put away their plates, trying not to hover over Nicky who has still taken no more than three bites of his dinner, no longer even trying to keep up the pretence of being interested in it, Joe quietly makes the suggestion. Andy murmurs her assent.

They take some time to clean up the safe house (coming back years later to spoiled food and unwashed, bloodstained clothes is something they try to avoid whenever possible), and Joe attempts to coax Nicky into drinking some tea with a generous serving of honey. He is mostly successful, until Nicky is left unattended while they are cleaning and Joe comes back to see that he has given up and abandoned the unfinished, now cold tea on the table. With a sigh, Joe washes and dries the last mug, and they are on their way.

---

As fresh as the air is, as quiet as the countryside is, as quaint as the house is, nothing seems to change with their new location other than the fact that Nicky can no longer hide behind the stress and urgency of missions.

He stops trying to maintain the illusion that everything is fine, and starts spending hours sitting on the beach alone. Sometimes Joe will join him, but sometimes his silence will be so stony, the look in his eyes so distant that Joe will need to step away, not wanting to let Nicky see as the overwhelming feeling of helplessness drives him to tears. He stops coming to the table for meals - he’ll shake his head, mumbling something about being tired, or not hungry, or not in the mood, and will inevitably wander off to be alone. What Joe had hoped would be some quiet time to recharge becomes tense, lonely, and empty (even with all three of them living in the same house), and Joe wonders if maybe taking a break was the wrong idea.

As he and Andy eat yet another dinner alone, he knows that something has to give. So, after he finishes putting away a plate for Nicky in the (probably vain) hope that he will come looking for leftovers, he makes his way out to the beach. It’s where Nicky is most likely to be, when he can’t be found inside.

Sure enough Nicky is there, sitting hunched over on a log with his toes in the sand. His t-shirt hangs loosely on his frame, the fabric fluttering in the wind blowing off the water. Joe walks up to stand beside him, clearing his throat. Nicky tilts his head slightly in his direction, but doesn’t meet his eyes.

“What did you eat today, Nicolò?”

Nicky shrugs, turning back to stare at the waves.

“And yesterday?”

Nicky doesn’t move, continuing to look out into the distance, his eyes unfocussed. Joe sighs, coming to stand in front of him, crouching until he is directly in Nicky’s line of sight, putting his hand on Nicky’s cheek, trying to make him meet his gaze.

Nicky does, but only for a fleeting moment before he turns his eyes down to the log he is sitting on, and the peeling bark he has been picking at absentmindedly. He grabs at a dry leaf, ripping it away before crumbling it in his hand and letting the wind catch the pieces.

“Nicky, you’re hurting yourself.” Joe’s voice is pleading.

“It won’t kill me, Joe,” Nicky responds tiredly.

Joe blinks away tears, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through Nicky’s fine hair.

“Just because it won’t kill you doesn’t mean it doesn’t mean it doesn’t kill me to watch you this to yourself.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I know. I know, my heart, and that’s the problem.” A gust of cool evening wind makes Nicky shiver. Joe quickly pulls off his coat, tucking it around Nicky’s thin shoulders. He cups his hand around Nicky’s cheek. “You don’t eat, you don’t sleep...”

“I do.”

“You don’t. Do you really think i can’t tell the difference between when you fall asleep in my arms and when you lie awake all night, tense and restless?”

Nicky shrugs a shoulder halfheartedly.

“Besides - you didn’t even come to bed last night.”

Nicky shrugs again. Joe sighs, sitting down heavily beside him on the log. He turns his head and rests his chin briefly on Nicky’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his neck before putting an arm around him and pulling him in close.

“We’ve been here before, my love.” Nicky nods minutely, his hair tickling Joe’s chin, but he doesn’t say anything. It breaks Joe’s heart, but he knows - we’ll be here again.

#the old guard #fic #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #andromache the scythian #tw: disordered eating #tw: depressive episode #tw: depression

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of-another-broken-heart · 4 years ago

Text

Having a really weird day.

It’s a weird one!

I’m all over the place.

Or it feels like it.

Mostly I’m just. Ricocheting around this one expansive building in my dumb sprawling brain labyrinth - the one about healthcare.

Trying to hunt down a new PCP.

Trying to find out HOW to hunt down a new PCP without wasting tons of time. I need one that isn’t going to do like my last team did. I need people who won’t fall for the siren lure of ingrained socially-supported medical fatphobia at the expense of the Hippocratic Oath. I need a healthcare team that actually provides care. I need queer acceptance. I need my concerns to be taken with seriousness and respect - and I need a doctor who won’t just handwave everything away because it’s quicker and easier to chalk it up to some other part of my very messy medical situation. I need a professional who will do their due diligence, and run the diagnostics, and make decisions based on results and data - not their personal mythical psychic assumption senses. I need to know these things BEFORE wasting time and effort and energy and money on an appointment. And nearly none of this is available information. Doctors are under no social pressure or obligation to make this sort of information publicly available. And “customer reviews” are rare and unreliable. The greatest failures result in death, and those people can’t very well complain, can they? The next greatest failures result in defeat and exhaustion - and those aren’t conditions conducive to leaving reviews, either. Survival, first and foremost. I’m a perfect example of that. Could I try to leave reviews about my last doctor in every corner I can find online that will grant me the space? Yes, I could. Am I going to? No. I don’t have the time or energy.

Stressing about a dentist. Not thinking about the dentist. So much fucking trauma oh my god just don’t think about it. But these broken teeth though. I need a dentist. How bad will it all actually be? It’ll be bad. It’ll be worse than I’m prepared to handle. Just like last time. I’d love to be able to smile again. I’d love to have reasons to smile, first, of course. But it’d be nice not to be greeted by chipped holes and visible dark grey fillings that look and feel worse than the “cavities” they supposedly replaced. It would also be nice if my jaw wasn’t lopsided. If my teeth lined up, instead of my bottom jaw being ~4mm off center. It didn’t used to be that bad. It was always a little off - the way some of my bottom teeth grew in as a kid. Was never severe enough to merit braces. Or maybe we just couldn’t afford braces. But then after some cavities and breaking teeth and botched cavity fillings that completely changed the topography of my bite... my jaw has gradually resettled, and it has done so. To the left. But mostly I need my wisdom teeth. Fixed. Removed. I don’t know if they can be salvaged. I thought I was okay with losing them all, but the more I’ve thought about it, and thought about how my jaw has already shifted, the more scared I am that fully removing them will make it all worse. I have the space for them. If they’re removed, I’m just going to have... weird empty space?? And no teeth there for when I’m chewing?? Teeth are so stupid. I hate them. I need them.

Mental health. Hahahaha. But for real. A psych who won’t just try to shove prozac on me. One who will give me the time of day to go through diagnosis criteria for things beyond the Big D. Sure my depression is bad, and it’s at the front of my miserable mental marching band, but my anxiety has got to the point where I’ve got painful physical symptoms, and my un-diagnosed/untreated adhd sure isn’t making any of that easier. Maybe I could finally get a lucky break with medication/treatment for one of those, and actually get some relief. Especially with the anxiety and adhd. I feel like there might be less total drugs available? So less total experimentation possible?? Maybe just wishful thinking... And... therapy? Actual therapy??? Maybe??? I’m jaded as cynical as fuck and I know a lot of methods of therapy won’t work for me BECAUSE of how my particular pudding cup of brain fuck is mis-wired - but I’d love help. I want and need help. But it has to actually BE help. “Sometimes just talking it out helps” NOPE. N-O-P-E. I’m long past that point, honey darling dear!! I need actionable help! Techniques, challenges, tools - not just a sympathetic ear. Believe it or not, I’ve got that covered! Me, myself, and I - oh, we talk. We talk PLENTY. Relentlessly, endlessly, brutally - it’s covered.

I learned what city he lives in. I looked it up. I could be there in 14 hours. It would take about $130 in gas, though. One-way. It’s just slightly further than Manning - the place I used to stop overnight on my FL trips. It’s 120 miles further west. That’s it. A handful of hours between the two places. It’s a fairly small city. Low cost of living. Low minimum wage, as a result - matches federal. It’s right against the state border. Hell, it might technically span into the adjoining state. It has a surprising amount of golf course land. Population is not majority-white. I don’t want to overdo this. But I can’t help how badly I want to know things when I’m interested. When I care. My heart hurts. I hate that I’m like this.

I wanted to sleep more. I’ve been up for about 4 hours. Before that, I slept for maybe 3? And before that I was up for... 5? And before that, I was in bed most of yesterday, but it was just wishing I was sleeping for hours and hours and hours, and only actually being asleep for about 2.

I ate leftovers for dinner, instead of what was made. I had reheated pasta with meat sauce and veggies, instead of a plain breaded chicken patty and More Fucking Potatoes (pierogies). I think my brother ate what I didn’t. Which is fine. No leftovers to juggle. No food wasted. I ate some of sister’s culinary leftovers for breakfast. Some risotto. Not sure exactly what kind. Apparently it came home with shrimp - mom ate those. I don’t know if I’ve had risotto before. It was good, but I took too much and it was tasting extra salty before I tapped out. I made a cup of coffee again, too. I’m beginning to see the caffeine/adhd stability correlation in myself. Don’t know how to feel about that.

I need to double-drive again today. Pick sister up. Drop sister off. I wanted to try to shop a bit yesterday, but I was way too tired. I was also supposed to have a friend help me tackle some of the doctor-hunting yesterday, too. But... too tired.

It’s 10 AM. I’ve got 2.5 hours until I need to drive. I’m restless. I’m tired. I probably can’t sleep but I’m going to try I guess. Or just sit here stalling out for 150 straight minutes until I have to go. idk.

#personal

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hybridfanfiction · 6 years ago

Text

Lost In The Echo - 1

Pairing: Keith x Labrador hybrid Lance

Summary: After his brother went MIA, Keith’s life began to fall apart. He dropped out of high school and got a job, barely doing enough for himself to survive. He’s reached the point where even he is worried about how far he’s fallen into the depths of his depression. After learning about emotional support hybrids, he takes a chance and adopts a Lab hybrid named Lance.

Word Count: 2567

Requested

The apartment door banged loudly as Keith kicked it closed, not even bothering to lock it since he had nothing for anyone to steal anyway. He tossed his bike helmet onto the couch and slumped into the opposite seat with a relieved sigh.

Today had been yet another long and tedious day filled with nothingness. He’d even volunteered to work longer at the machine shop and had put in a whole twelve hours just to have something to fill his time. And now he was back in his crappy apartment that was just as empty as he was, save for the overloaded trash can filled with takeout boxes and a sink full of dishes he was never motivated enough to wash. The mess annoyed the hell out of him, sure, but the effort it would take to gather up the remnants of energy he had left to clean seemed impossible. Takashi would kick his ass if he saw this place...

Instead, he stretched out fully on the couch and put some documentary on that he barely paid attention to in order to fill the silence and ordered some dinner off of his favorite app. He figured at some point he should take a shower and get the smell of the shop off of him, but that seemed like too much work at the moment. He lounged on the couch for the full thirty minutes he had to wait for his food, moving only to kick off his shoes.

When the doorbell rang he sighed wearily, wincing as his bones cracked as he stood. He slowly hobbled to the doorway and cracked it open, intending to simply reach his hand out for the bag and scurry back inside like the antisocial raccoon he was.

“Special delivery for Gerard Way if he had a mullet and shrunk three inches?”

Keith scrunched his nose as he realized the amused voice was familiar and poked his head out, widening his eyes as he took in the grinning delivery person.

“Hunk?”

“Hey man! Long time no see, huh? I saw your name on the order form and couldn’t resist making the delivery myself. You were our last order of the night anyway.”

Keith pulled the door open all the way and peered up at him.

“Jesus, did you get even taller? And are those real muscles? Dude.”

Hunk holds up the bags that looked like they had a lot more than what he actually ordered, flexing shamelessly.

“I know, right? The last time you saw me was in high school when I was still ninety percent taco, but I’ve been working out for actual fun these days. And you! I took a chance you’d still have the mullet when I made that joke, glad it worked out.”

Keith rolled his eyes as he ruffled said hair nervously.

“It just grows that way, you know that.”

“So you’ve always said. Man, I missed you. A lot of us tried to find you these past few of years, but you seemed to just vanish and don’t even use social media. How are things? Hold up, let me get your food setup here.”

Hunk just walked right past Keith into his apartment and placed the bags on the coffee table. He muttered to himself as he set out multiple fantastic smelling containers, and Keith took a moment to glance around for anything too shameful while Hunk was distracted.

He was embarrassed by the stark emptiness of the place, as he only bought the bare essentials, but he knew Hunk was too nice to actually say anything about it. Mostly it was just the trash-filled kitchen and the fact that it was obvious he usually just slept on the couch that had him worried.

“So you work at Sal’s, huh?”

“Co-own it actually, along with being the head chef. Except on the weekends when I volunteer at Hybrid Haven with Katie.”

Keith was impressed but wasn’t all that surprised. He’d known Hunk would do well for himself even back in high school. He was just a nice guy all the way to his core and got along with everyone, unlike Keith who liked five living beings and two of them were dogs.

“So Pidgeotto is still around too, huh?”

“I forgot about that one,” Hunk snorts and sets the plastic bags off to the side. “Yeah, most of us are still around. Katie and Allura run Hybrid Haven together and Matt left the Army after...that...and is some software genius and built his own company. He tried to explain what it was for, but it went over even my head. And I studied to be an engineer!”

Keith huffed a laugh and let Hunk pull him onto the couch, accepting the utensils he was handed.

“What is all this, anyway? I just ordered a meatball sandwich.”

“I know, but dude, this is my first chance to have you try my professional skills! I’m not going to pass that up. I’ve improved so much in the three years since you last tried something of mine. So I made you a sampler platter of our Italian favorites. Spaghetti alla carbonara, Manicotti, Risotto, Fritto misto, and of course a nice big order of meatballs since that’s what you actually asked for. Oh, and there’s breadsticks. And tiramisu for dessert.”

“God, everything smells amazing,” Keith moaned as he opened the first container.

“Good. Eat up, you look like you’re skin and bones.”

Keith huffed a laugh, then practically shoved what he guessed was the carbonara into his mouth. It was so rich and the noodles perfectly al dente, even with them being delivered. It had been a long time since Keith had actually appreciated food, usually just eating what he felt he could tolerate at the moment so he’d stay alive. But a combination of wanting to please Hunk who was watching his every bite and the knowledge that Hunk’s food was always amazing led to genuine enjoyment of the meal. He eyed the number of containers and wondered if Hunk would expect him to eat it all now or if he’d be able to stretch them out for a few days.

“You know, now that I’m looking at you, you seem like you’re sick. Is that why you ordered takeout? I should have brought my soup too,” Hunk frowns and lays a massive hand on Keith’s forehead, trying to gauge his temperature.

“I’m not sick. Just tired. Long day, you know?”

Hunk didn’t look convinced, his gaze sharpening as he looked Keith up and down deliberately then moved to give his actual apartment the same treatment. Keith felt like an ant under a microscope, knowing that Hunk’s often overlooked brain was seeing everything.

Hunk sighed and pat Keith on the head like a damn dog as he stood up and headed towards the kitchen.

“Don’t move a muscle, no matter what. I want you to stay there and eat. I’m beginning to suspect that’s the first decent meal you’ve had in three years.”

Keith’s shame was almost overwhelming because Hunk was grabbing a garbage bag and collecting the overflowing trash that Keith had merely watched grow into a massive pile. He tried to protest, but a sharp look from Hunk told him it was pointless and he’d continued shoveling food down his throat instead.

He was midway through the huge foil tin of Manicotti and listening to Hunk hum to himself as he washed Keith’s dishes when the exhaustion finally caught up to him. His belly was full of delicious food and he was comfortable, laying his head back against the couch and promising he was just going to close his eyes for a second because it hurt to keep them open...

The sun was just beginning to filter through his blinds when he woke up. His apartment was silent except for the gentle hum of the dryer, meaning Hunk had even tackled Keith’s toxic pile of dirty laundry and apparently had been here all night doing so. He was ashamed that his old friend had seen what a mess he was these days, but he was touched and humbled that he’d gone out of his way like this.

Keith stretched and cracked his neck before standing, realizing his body was more rested than it had been in a while. He didn’t know if it was the food or just having another presence in the place that had helped.

He yawned and padded towards the kitchen, hoping that Hunk had stashed the leftovers in there. He swung the door open and grinned when he spotted the containers, pulling out the meatballs to make a cold sandwich. He could only imagine the shock on Hunk’s face when he’d opened the fridge and found only water and ketchup.

Keith split open a couple of rolls that Hunk had included with his order and filled them full to bursting with meatballs, suddenly ravenous. He even put them on a plate now that he had some clean dishes. He took a huge bite and chewed happily on his way back to the couch, setting his plate down and searching for the remote and clicking the TV on, pausing as he realized there was a note taped to the front of it.

He jumped back up and pulled it off, reading as he slumped back into his seat.

Keith,

I have to head home before my girlfriend worries too much (her name is Shay! I can’t wait for you to meet her). I am so happy that you ordered from my place today. I know that you are probably all kinds of embarrassed right now, but I seriously missed you. I know it’s probably been hard since Shiro went missing. We all loved him, but you worshipped him. Your brother was one of the greatest people I’ve ever met and I know he’d feel horrible if he came back and saw how much you were hurting.

I’m sorry for upsetting you if you think I overstepped today, but I’m not sorry I did it. You needed some looking after and I was happy to do it. We’ve all been worried sick about you since you left. Matt says he has nightmares sometimes of Shiro coming back and he has to explain that he lost his little brother.

I know you like to think it sometimes, but you’re really not alone. If you’d let us back into your life, we’d love to be there. You were never just another high school friend to us, Keith. You are family. Family that we’ve missed terribly.

As your family, I’m just going to say it. I think you’ve been letting your depression win, bud. The Keith I know is a fighter and right now I think you’re facing your strongest opponent and letting it take over. Please let us help you and be there for you. There’s no shame in asking for help.

I also have another friend that I’d like you to meet. You know how I said we all work with Hybrid Haven? Allura started a program a few years ago training emotional support hybrids. We mainly adopt them out to military vets dealing with PTSD, but I think it would be a good match for you too. There is one, in particular, I have in mind for you. He’s kinda your polar opposite in a lot of ways, but I think it would be good for you.

Just head to the Haven if you decide to go through with it and Katie will probably be at the counter. Tell her you’re there for Lance. She’ll probably be so happy to see you she’ll waive the adoption fee...after she says a few choice words to you. You know how she is, don’t take it to heart. She just missed you and she’s kinda like you in that emotions make her angry.

If you still want to talk to me even after I’ve butted my big head into your business, I’ll write my number under this. If you don’t, that’s fine too. Although I’ll probably cry. Don’t make me cry, Keith.

-Hunk

Keith snorted as he read the last line, then programmed the number into his phone. When he’d disappeared after Takashi went missing, he hadn’t been in a good place. He’d spent every waking moment trying to convince anyone that would listen that his brother was still alive and needing to be rescued. The Army has brushed him off, telling him they were sorry for his loss and that Takashi had been a good soldier, but there was nothing else to be done.

Their parents had died when Keith was too young to remember them well and Takashi had raised him after that. He’d been Keith’s entire world and his hero. They’d moved around from base to base until Keith had hit high school and demanded to stay in one school for the entire time. He’d gotten his wish and had stayed there with the same group of friends until he was almost eighteen and a few months away from graduating. Until the soldiers had come to their home holding a flag and a generic letter of condolence. After that, high school had seemed meaningless and he had to find a job to support himself. He’d sold the home they'd been living in, unable to keep up the payments on his own. He’d then started his monotonous life of working at the machine shop and coming home to an empty apartment.

He hadn’t really meant to ignore his friends from school, they just felt like they didn’t belong to him. They were friends with a different Keith that didn’t exist anymore, one that used to laugh and play. One that hadn’t felt like he was a waste of space just by existing.

He looked at Hunk’s letter again, raising an eyebrow as he got to the part about the hybrid. He was familiar with the creatures, of course. The military had wolf hybrids and Keith remembered a few fondly from his years as an army brat. He remembered he’d even begged Takashi to adopt one years ago, but they hadn’t been as settled at the time so he’d said no.

He glanced around his now clean apartment, taking in the clean kitchen and piles of folded clean laundry waiting in baskets. The place was still empty, but it was looking a little more homey after Hunk had his way with it. Keith sighed and let the idea churn in his head.

He supposed it would be nice to come home to someone, even a hybrid. He’d have a reason to clean up after himself and keep the fridge stocked at the very least. And it would be nice to have Hunk and Pidge around again.

But first, a shower.

#voltron #voltron fanfic #vld #klance #klance fanfic #hybrid #hybrid au #au #hybrids #hybrid!voltron #hybrid!lance #hybrid fanfiction

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carmenlire · 6 years ago

Text

Off the Record Ch. I

I’ve had this story in mind for ages and I’m so excited to finally start it! This is my second official AU and I hope y’all like it!!

read on ao3

“Lower the hem a quarter of an inch and make a note in the file to have the model wear their hair up during the Paris Fashion Show next spring.”

Magnus studies the mannequin in front of him with a critical eye, making sure that he’s satisfied with the dress. There will be a final round of alterations before he formally adds the design to his portfolio-- before it lands an official spot in his spring line-- but for now he’s satisfied.

Turning around, it’s to see Clary scribbling furiously in her notebook, making the notes he mentioned. He’d be lost without Biscuit, who’d quickly become his favorite secretary when she’d been sent over from the NYU Institute of Fashion and Design her freshman year. She was a quick study, meticulous, and had a passion for fashion that would serve her well in the industry.

Magnus is on the fourth floor of Bane Fashions, also known as his experimental floor. The area was divided into a few sections, each of which was big enough to fit an entire penthouse apartment with room leftover. The space was light and airy with exposed pipes and cement floors and it’s where Magnus kept his designs that had yet to be revealed.

A dozen apprentices and designers catch his attention and as he looks over fabric cuts and patterns and ensembles, his eye is on the clock. While Magnus worked like a dervish, he liked to relax and catch the news when he could and luckily he was spending the day in his office with no meetings scheduled until late afternoon.

Magnus barely reaches out before a latte lands in his hand. With a nod of thanks to Clary, Magnus takes a quick sip as he listens to one of his apprentices, Maia, run through a problem with him.

It’s just a few minutes discussion as Magnus tells her what the best solution is-- in his humble opinion-- and then he’s turning toward the elevators, Clary in step beside him.

“What does the rest of my day look like, dear?”

Clary doesn’t even look at Magnus’s agenda before she replies, “You have a meeting with the finance department at two and then dinner with a potential investor tonight at nine. You let them pick the restaurant and they chose--"

“Some horribly pretentious and overpriced French restaurant, I’m sure.” Magnus’s voice is annoyed as he sighs and takes another drink from his cup, finishing it off.

Investors always wanted to flaunt their cash and they always picked restaurants that considered a serving size half a carrot and a spoonful of risotto.

Making a mental note to stop by The Jade Wolf after his business dinner concludes, Magnus looks over at Clary as they step into the empty elevator.

Inserting his access card, Magnus asks, “But until then--”

“Until then, you’re free. That gives you just over an hour for lunch.”

Smiling, Magnus lets Clary off the elevator first as they walk into the executive suite. Clary’s space was directly in front of the bank of elevators with Magnus’s office right behind. His office took half the floor and was complete with a fireplace, three separate sitting areas and an ensuite bathroom. His view overlooked Fifth Avenue and one wall overlooked another design space with a one way mirror collage.

He’d bought the prime real estate and constructed the headquarters for his company almost ten years ago. It’d been a leap of faith and the cost had given him his first grey hair at the ripe old age of twenty four.

The risk had been worth it, though, and as Magnus pours a glass of whiskey-- it’s happy hour somewhere-- he brings the glass with him to the wall of windows that overlooks one of the busiest streets in the world.

He’s earned his place here. It’s a place that screams wealth and prestige yet still doesn’t take into account the thousands and thousands of hours of work and desperation that had spurred him to build his empire from the ground up.

Bane Fashions was one of the biggest players in the industry, not an inconsiderable feat when most labels were over a hundred years old. Magnus had started right here in the city and he was an alumnus of Clary’s school. He’d been on the fast track since high school and with some luck, Bane was a household name.

He’s worked damned hard, Magnus reflects as he moves over to one of the couches. Taking a sip from his tumbler, he reaches for a remote and a few seconds later a television is rising from its concealed place in a storage cabinet.

Magnus has more guilty pleasures than he can count but one that not many people would suspect is that he has a weakness for the news.

Well, one reporter in particular.

Turning the channel to CNN, Magnus sees that he has just a few minutes before the international news program switches segments. In the meantime, lunch is brought up to him by one of his kitchen wait staff and left on the end table next to his whiskey.

Listening with half an ear to a financial adviser lament about the oncoming recession, Magnus winces and hopes that he’s just another pundit full of hot air. He really doesn’t want to think about dealing with an economic downturn as well as the regular day to day stress of running a multi-billion dollar company.

The news changes to one of its field reporters and as Magnus takes his first bite of his stir fry, he relaxes into the couch, ready to learn about what’s going on in the world today.

“Good afternoon, this is Alec Lightwood reporting from Norway. The president is set to visit later this evening in order to prepare for his meeting with rival leader. . .”

Rolling his eyes, Magnus can’t help but scoff at the screen. The president was an unmitigated asshole and while Magnus woefully feels a need to keep up on the current buffoonery of the current administration, at least half the reason he liked to tune into this particular program was because of the reporter who lessened the blow with his damning good looks.

He was usually clean shaven but occasionally sported stubble that made Magnus weak in the knees. He alternated between casual and business attire according to his assignment and location and Magnus can admit that he loves the plain-- yet exceptionally well tailored-- slacks and button-ups as much as jeans and a t-shirt.

His eyes are sharp and calculating, holding an intelligence that makes Magnus want to debate with him-- about anything, even everything-- and he was reportedly a great person when he wasn’t standing in front of a camera, too. He was reputedly an amicable coworker, if a bit surly, and he was often caught at charity functions.

No doubt about it, Alec Lightwood was a triple threat and Magnus doesn’t even try to pretend that he doesn’t find the intrepid journalist attractive as hell.

“Don’t you get tired of watching that garbage?”

Rolling his eyes, Magnus doesn’t look up at the interruption. “Just because I prefer not to go through life painfully ignorant doesn’t mean that it’s garbage. I like being politically cognizant.”

He hears Ragnor scoff as he settles on the opposite end of the couch with his ever present mug of tea.

“You and I both know you don’t watch the news in an effort to be well-informed.” Ragnor’s voice becomes particularly scathing as he continues, “Oh, doesn’t Alec look so handsome reporting in Beirut. That khaki looks just fabulous against his skin. And don’t get me started on his windblown hair. I’d let that man model anything of mine in a heartbeat.”

Magnus barely keeps his lips from twitching up even as he scowls at his best friend’s hideous exaggeration. “I do not act like that,” Magnus says defensively. “And, you’re lying to yourself if the news isn’t just a little more palatable coming from his lovely baritone.”

Raising a brow, Magnus continues, “Plus, you do know that Alec Lightwood is a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, don’t you?”

“Even if I didn’t, I’m sure you’d tell me,” Ragnor replies pleasantly and Magnus is almost impressed.

He can barely tell that Ragnor’s clenching his teeth.

“Well, let me go ahead and illuminate you. Lightwood has traveled all over the world on dangerous assignments and he’s rubbed elbows with dignitaries and revolutionists alike. He’s remarkably young for having accomplished so much.”

“Other people are into bands or tv shows. You, however, get hot under the collar for a journalist,” Ragnor replies wryly.

Rolling his eyes, Magnus finishes his stir fry in a few bites that are just a bit too large. Ragnor watches him, mildly aghast.

It’s just his luck that Alec signs off a few moments later with his usual spiel and Magnus makes sure to turn the volume up just to annoy Ragnor further.

“This has been Alec Lightwood reporting from Norway with CNN’s State of the Union. Tune back in at five o’clock to hear the latest.”

Magnus’s office is silent as the screen moves back to the two news anchors at CNN’s headquarters in the City.

Magnus stands, wiping his hands on a napkin and throwing it on top of his empty plate. Making his way to his desk that’s as organized as it is overflowing, Magnus settles in his chair that overlooks the rest of the space.

Ragnor watches him for a minute, one leg crossed over the other as he sips at is tea.

“When’s the last time you went out?”

Magnus looks up from the file he’d grabbed, reviewing the financial documents in preparation for his meeting with Ragnor and the rest of the department’s team in forty five minutes.

“I don’t see where that’s any of your business,” Magnus answers primly. “Since when are you even interested in my love life?”

Pinning him with a steady gaze, his oldest friend just raises a brow. “I think you need a hobby.”

Laughing a little, Magnus looks back down at his quarterly report, sliding on a a pair of black framed glasses. He always breathes the tiniest sigh of relief when he sees that the company’s in the black.

“I went out with a lovely woman from Denmark a few months ago. We had drinks, she took me back to her place, and I was back in the office the next morning at eight sharp.”

“You didn’t see her again?”

Magnus looks up at that, over his glasses that he can’t abide but needs all the same. “We had a perfectly nice evening but no, I didn’t try to see her again.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m busy, Ragnor,” Magnus says with exasperation. He gestures toward the mountain of paperwork in this quarter’s fiscal report, everything spread out over his desk. “Does it look like I have time to date?”

Sniffing, Ragnor just mutters, “I said you need a hobby.”

“And you think a person should be my hobby? I’m far too busy with the company to worry about my personal life.”

“No, you were busy ten years ago, fifteen, when you were just building your brand and every day was a gamble. You’re established now, Magnus. You delegate when you want to but the problem is that you just don’t want to. You work here so late that I regularly find you using your coat for a blanket while you catch a few hours’ nap on one of these blasted couches. You do-- rarely-- take vacations and you have time for yourself but is it enough?”

“I think it’s more than enough. I didn’t build Bane Fashions by--”

“Resting on your laurels, yes, I know. Still, you’re stable now, Magnus. You can afford to hire another assistant and take a step back from the company. Everyone knows that you have rigid standards and anyone you hire would be great for the job. You can trust your staff to share your vision and keep the ship headed in the right direction.”

Sighing, Magnus pulls off his glasses before pinching the bridge of his nose. When he looks up again it’s to see Ragnor patiently waiting on him.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do work more than I should but what’s the harm in it. I’m perfectly content with my little piece of the world and it makes me happy to oversee it. If I like being busy and I like devoting so much time to my brand and if the price I pay is being single, then who am I to complain?”

“Don’t you see, friend,” Ragnor starts softly. “You deserve to have both and I’d hate for you to wake up one day and resent your company when it’s all you have left.”

“Where are you planning on going,” Magnus asks with a raised brow.

Waving that away, Ragnor stands, setting his empty mug on an end table coaster. “Mock all you want, my dear, but one day you will find someone to tear down those walls you’ve built around your heart. Mark my words.”

Ragnor’s voice is ominous and Magnus can’t quite shake the feeling of foreboding that washes over him.

Deciding not to worry about it any longer, Magnus returns his attention to his work. Going to his laptop, Magnus looks over his emails for a few minutes while Ragnor comes around the desk and reviews the fiscal notes.

His phone rings fifteen minutes before his meeting is set to start and Magnus debates answering before ultimately picking up the phone on the corner of his desk.

“Bane.”

“Magnus,” the person on the other end greets warmly. “Long time, no see. How have you been?”

Chuckling, Magnus relaxes against his chair as he ignores Ragnor’s impatient look. The man had a tragic habit of being dreadfully early to every meeting and Magnus refuses to show up a quarter of an hour early when he’s the damn boss.

“Isabelle, dear, I’m fit as a fiddle. I trust that you’re well?”

“Oh, you know how it is,” she says, sounding distracted for a minute as papers rustle in the background. “I’m constantly inundated with new projects and reports but I’m managing.”

“And happy as a clam about it, I’m sure,” Magnus teases.

Isabelle was the chief scientist at Idris Labs, a private think tank in the city. Magnus had gone to her years ago when he was looking for a synthetic, hypoallergenic fabric to make a line of clothes from. They’d quickly hit it off and still remain friends who occasionally grab dinner together when their demanding schedules permit.

“Don’t you know it,” she laughs along. “There was actually a reason for my call, though.”

“I didn’t think this was a social call,” Magnus replies dryly. “What do you need, dear?”

“How would you feel about a commission? I know that you rarely take them these days but I have someone who needs a suit for a gala and I immediately thought of you.”

Humming, Magnus narrows his eyes in thought as he absently twirls a pen around his fingers. “They must have deep pockets if you’re coming to me and not Nordstrom’s Rack. Do I know them?”

Magnus hears Isabelle clear her throat before she says, “It’s actually for my brother and trust me when I say that he does alright for himself.”

Interest piqued, Magnus stills his hand as he asks, “What’s his name again? Jace? It’s been so long since we spoke last that I don’t quite remember.”

Isabelle laughs so hard that Magnus is concerned before she quiets down on the other end of the line. “Oh, hell no. Jace wouldn’t be caught dead in a suit. I’m talking about my eldest brother, Alec. I’m sure I’ve mentioned him to you before.”

Straightening in his chair, Magnus has minor heart failure as he hoarsely asks, “Alec? Alec Lightwood is your brother?”

Ragnor, who was just about to leave Magnus’s office, turns back with an arched brow. Magnus doesn’t pay him any mind as Isabelle responds.

“Yes?” Isabelle’s tone is confused as she continues, “I don’t see him very often but he's lands in New York tomorrow morning and apparently he has an awards ceremony next week that he desperately needs an outfit for. He said that he’d just go to Brooks Brothers but I persuaded him to wait until I made a call first.”

Magnus’s mind is whirling as he processes Isabelle’s words and he wants to kick himself for being such a dunce. It isn’t as though Lightwood was a popular surname. He’s known Isabelle for five years and he’s never put it together that the journalist he just so happened to have a great deal of respect and admiration for was the brother to his favorite scientist.

“It’s a fifteen percent upcharge for a rush order,” he says on autopilot and immediately wants to kick himself again. For Alec Lightwood to wear one of his suits, Magnus would pay him.

He hears Isabelle laugh a little before she hopefully asks, “Does that mean you’ll do it? I know you’ve got to be busy with your company and getting designs submitted for next year’s fashion week but I figured that it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

“My dear Isabelle, getting your brother, the exceptionally well-known journalist, to wear one of my suits to an awards ceremony? That’s publicity I can’t buy. The man can wear clothes like no one I’ve ever seen before. I should be thanking you for this opportunity. Of course I’ll accept the commission.”

“Thank you, Magnus. I know that Alec does more than fine on his own but I’d love to see what you could do if you got your hands on him.”

At that Magnus can’t help but bark out a laugh. “You and me both, dear, I assure you. When is he free for the fitting?”

Magnus wheels his chair over to one end of his desk to look over his agenda.

“It’s Tuesday and we have a week until the dinner. As far as I know, Alec’s schedule is pretty much an open slate. What about something on Thursday?”

Scanning over the week’s appointments, Magnus sees an opening. “I don’t have anything that can’t be rescheduled Thursday morning. How does ten sound?”

“Sounds great,” Isabelle says excitedly. “I’m coming with him if that’s alright?”

“Of course, dear,” Magnus says distractedly as he pencils the consultation in. “I’ll draft something up later today and have a rough model ready when you arrive that morning.”

“That sounds perfect. Thank you, Magnus, really. I saw the opportunity and I had to take it.”

“I’m sorry, Isabelle, what do you mean? I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Magnus hears a flurry of movement on the other end as Isabelle presumably moves. “I don’t mean anything, Magnus. I just meant that I think both of you would benefit from knowing each other. You know, you sell a suit, Alec has a suit. It’s a win win.”

“Right,” Magnus says, suspicious. “Whatever the case, I really have to run off to a meeting now. I’ll see you Thursday, dear.”

“Bye, Magnus. See you then!”

Magnus hangs up, returning the phone to its cradle as he looks up and meets Ragnor’s interested gaze.

“Don’t,” he warns, seeing the gleam in his friend’s eyes.

“Whatever do you mean,” Ragnor sniffs. “I’m not doing anything except trying to make it to the meeting that’s been scheduled for six weeks.”

“Don’t read more into this than there is. I know that look. That’s the scheming Ragnor look. I always end up miserably hungover and in jail when that look crosses your face.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Ragnor replies drolly, though there is a subtle smirk on his mouth.

Magnus starts toward the meeting room, nodding to Clary as they pass her desk. She’s just returning from lunch and without a hitch in her step, she drapes her coat over her chair as she answers the ringing phone.

“What are the chances that Lightwood would just so happen to need a suit from you?”

“Rather good, I’d say, considering that he often has commitments that require formal dress. Not to mention our apparently mutual acquaintance.”

“About that. Are you really telling me that you didn’t know?”

Irritated, Magnus pulls the door open so that Ragnor can enter first. Following him into the conference room, he says, “Do you really think that I wouldn’t have persuaded Isabelle to set up an introduction if I had?”

Ragnor sits down at one end of the table, Magnus taking the other. In between them are half a dozen accountants and other financial advisers from Ragnor’s department.

Opening his own file to the first page of the quarterly fiscal report, Ragnor just slides his glasses on, peering at Magnus from over the top.

“I think that I’m not coming into the office Thursday. I’d rather work from home than subject myself to being your confidante. I can only imagine what you’ll have to say after your meeting with your journalist.”

“He’s not my anything,” Magnus mutters and opens his own report to the beginning.

He hears Ragnor harrumph but neither one says anything further.

Ragnor starts in on the meeting and Magnus listens with half an ear as one of his underlings starts talking about projected versus actualized profits and expectations for the upcoming spring quarter.

He asks questions as they come to him and the meeting is two hours of Magnus reaffirming what he’d gathered from reading the report when he’d first received it a couple of weeks ago.

His company is exceedingly healthy and Magnus lets Ragnor drone on about fabric cost affecting winter profits more than anticipated. All the while, he’s preoccupied.

It’s been awhile since he last did a personal consultation. While people regularly used his designs during award season, Magnus had mostly given those over to his protege, Raphael. He was too busy in running the company to focus on the minutiae.

There were a handful of designers that fell under his trademarked umbrella. Their designs-- with final approval from him-- were part of Bane Fashions. The last time Magnus had actually designed something for a client was a few years ago when the then First Lady had come to her for her husband’s second inauguration ball.

Magnus has been so focused on next spring’s line and fixing the details that he hasn’t felt inspired lately. He’s started to wonder if he’s lost his inspiration-- and if so, how to get it back.

As he sits in his conference room though and overlooks the river, Magnus wonders if he hadn’t just need a challenge, an unexpected project.

Magnus’s mind is a whirl about color, cut, and fabric. He knows from watching Alec on the news that he favors a classic style, though he occasionally favors a signature touch.

Magnus wonders if he could get Alec into something other than a black tuxedo, debates and dismisses option after option and his fingers itch for his sketch pad.

The sun is setting by the time they reach the end of the report and Magnus asks his last question. The underlings scurry out of the room, throwing diffident nods in Magnus’s direction and before long it’s just Ragnor and Magnus in the room, watching the sky turn orange.

“Another day in the books,” Ragnor sighs, standing up and stretching. He scowls. “You were barely paying attention.”

Magnus looks up to see Ragnor looking mildly put upon. “I assure you, I paid very close attention to accounts receivable and how much my assets have increased since last year. We’re a well-oiled machine.”

He blows out a breath. “Thank Christ. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing such numbers. I’ve been in this business for fifteen years and I still can’t believe we’ve made it.”

“Well, believe it Magnus. Otherwise you wouldn’t get a chance to dress up golden boy.”

“Don’t I know it,” Magnus says absently before his gaze snaps to Ragnor’s.

“He’s not my golden boy. He’s just a reporter that I find attractive. That’s it, Cabbage. No more, no less. Who knows, he might be an asshole in person.”

“Maybe,” Ragnor says with a shrug as he gathers his papers. “That won’t necessarily stop you from flirting with him, though.”

Magnus waves that away with a sigh as he climbs to his own feet. “It would stop me from asking him out, that’s for damned sure.”

“Isn’t he going out with one of his coworkers? Lydia Branwell?”

It’s silent for a minute, Ragnor’s question hanging in the air.

“I don’t know,” Magnus mutters and decidedly does not look at his friend.

“They’re always being photographed together, you know.”

“They could just be friends,” Magnus says defensively.

“Have you ever heard that Lightwood’s strayed from the straight and narrow though,” Ragnor asks, emphasizing the former. “Don’t set yourself up for disappointment. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I’ve flirted with straight men before.”

“Yeah, but just when they’re homophobic assholes and you want to make them uncomfortable.”

“I’ve never heard that he’s explicitly straight so I’m choosing to keep my options open. You never know, Cabbage.”

“You can have a good idea, though,” Ragnor replies wryly and just shakes his head when Magnus sticks out his tongue.

“Go on, shoo. We’ve talked numbers but I need to finalize a few designs before I get ready for dinner.”

“Very well,” Ragnor says, “I’ll leave you to it but do try not to fall asleep in your office this time.”

“I make no promises,” Magnus says brightly and waves Ragnor toward the elevators as he goes back to his office.

Clary’s packing up for the day and they exchange a few minutes of pleasantries before he sends her on her way.

Left alone on the executive floor, Magnus sits in his chair. On one side, his view is Fifth Avenue and New York City. On the other, he overlooks water bathed in the pinks and oranges of the sunset.

His office is bigger than most apartments and his empire stretches across the world.

Magnus takes a moment to bask in his success as he’s wont to do at the end of a trying day.

He doesn’t waste long on the feeling, however, before he’s reaching for the sketch pad he keeps in one of his desk drawers.

Gathering it and his pencils, Magnus loses himself in drafting a suit for Alec. It’s a rough sketch and before he can finish it, he’s starting another one in the corner and another one until he has half a dozen possibilities on the page.

There’s classic and classic with a bold touch and outright bold and Magnus would kill to get the journalist in every outfit he’s created.

He decides to sample two, though, and Magnus swears as he looks up and sees the time. He’s running a little late but he takes the time to scan the two images and his accompanying notes. He guesses Alec’s approximate size and sends everything to the seamstress department so that they can build the suits for Thursday’s consult.

Magnus stands, running a hand through his hair before he starts toward the bathroom to get ready for his dinner.

Magnus hates investor dinners with everything he has but his company was hot right now and he needed to capitalize on that. The investors tonight had deep pockets and Magnus hopes that by the end of the evening, they’ll decide to share that wealth with him and his company’s future.

No doubt about it, Magnus thinks as he steps into his outrageously luxurious bathroom-- it was unsuitable for an office ensuite but since Magnus got ready here as much as he did his loft in Brooklyn, he’d decided to splurge.

Magnus has everything he’s ever wanted and it’s usually served on a silver platter these days. He has his business and his friends and more wealth than he can spend in his lifetime.

If he occasionally feels like something’s missing-- if there are some nights he spends tucked away in his office or roaming foreign cities while on business trips-- than it’s no one’s business but his own if he wonders if this is it, if this is what it feels like to be on top of the world.

Magnus has been at rock bottom and he’s reached his own personal mountain top and as he looks back, Magnus is pervaded by the sense that it’s unfinished. He’s checked everything off his list, has made goals and continues to reach for more.

He doesn’t know when he’ll be happy though, when he’ll be content with what he’s amassed.

Privately, Magnus has started to despair that he’ll ever feel like he’s made it, that he has everything he’s ever wanted.

He’s always reaching for more but the more he gets, the hollower he feels. Magnus doesn’t know what will fill the void but as he plays over Ragnor’s words from earlier in the afternoon, he wonders if his friend wasn’t right.

Maybe Magnus did need a hobby.

With a quiet laugh, Magnus turns off the water and wraps a towel around his hips.

Yeah, he scoffs to himself. He can’t wait to start a stamp collection.

I just need to get laid, Magnus thinks. A night-- or a weekend-- of distraction was sure to get him back on track. He just needed to blow off some steam and step away from his company for a minute before he could dive back in, refreshed.

Resolved, Magnus makes a mental note to tell Clary to clear his schedule this weekend.

Magnus has made it this long with his eye on the prize and he doesn’t see that changing any time soon.

No way, he thinks as he chooses his cuff links-- rubies to go with his red and black jacket.

Magnus doesn’t think there’s anyone out there who could ever become a bigger priority than his company and he decided a long time ago that he wouldn’t half-ass anything. He’s chosen his company time and time again. Even when it was hard, even when it was inconvenient.

Magnus shakes his head as he walks toward his floor length mirror. There’s no sense in talking about things that won’t happen. He’ll just focus on his company and maybe in six months, a year, he won’t feel like this.

He just needs a new project, something to focus all of his restless energy on. He’s grown a little stale, a little jaded.

Nothing something new won’t fix, Magnus reflects.

If his thoughts stray to Alec and the design he’d chosen, then that’s no one’s business but his own.

He always did like a challenge.

#off the record #my writing #ahh im so excited!!#ive had this brewing since like september lmao #malec fic #malec wip #fashion designer magnus #journalist alec

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thestudyof5sos · 6 years ago

Text

Smudges of Love (dad!ashton)

Summary: Luke thinks Ashton and his daughter are lonely, so he does something about it. Author: 🐾 @larryologymajor Fandon/Pairing: 5SOS / singledad!Ashton with toddler!Iriwin and a side of bff!Luke Warnings/Tags: fluff, toddler Irwin, and kitties Word count: 2.9k

Smudges of Love

Ashton glanced at his watch as he strolled through the front door of his house. He was late. His afternoon coffee meeting ran much longer than he anticipated. “Emily?” he called out to his babysitter.

“We’re in the bathroom, Mr. Irwin. It’s bath time for Miss Aubrey,” Ashton heard Emily call from upstairs.

Emily was a college student who lived in Ashton’s neighborhood. When he and his daughter Aubrey moved from their third floor flat to a newly purchased single-family house ten months ago, he was unsure how he would handle last minute childcare situations. Finding Emily was an utter fluke. Almost weekly Ashton said a thank you prayer to the magical wind that haphazardly dropped her babysitting flier into his yard one windy afternoon. Emily was an absolute godsend, and Ashton practically considered her family. Ashton never thought he’d be a single parent at 35, but here he was. He was thankful for Emily and the support of his three best friends.

Ashton tossed his briefcase on the bench in the foyer and unzipped his leather boots, kicking them under the bench. He passed through the living room and climbed the stairs two at a time. He headed towards the bathroom and stuck his head through the doorway. His face lit up like the sun when he saw his barely-three year old daughter splashing in the bathtub. “Hi sweet pea, daddy’s home!” Ashton greeted his daughter.

To Emily, Ashton added, “Hey, Em. I’m going to change into something comfy super quick.”

Emily nodded. “Hey, welcome home.”

As Ashton walked away, his daughter called after him, “Daddee, meeeowwwwww meeeooowwwww.”

Ashton popped his head back into the bathroom and looked quizzically at Emily.

She shrugged. “I have no idea where that came from. She’s been meowing since we came back from the park this afternoon.”

“Maybe she saw a kitty on your walk?” Ashton called over his shoulder as he quietly closed his bedroom door. Aubrey was a quiet child. She would say words when she really wanted to or had something to say, but she mostly kept to herself. He was excited for the day they could hold conversations with her. For now, their home was quiet.

“How did it go today?” Ashton questioned Emily when he returned to the bathroom, smiling and grabbing Aubrey’s pink hooded kitty towel from a towel bar.

Emily grinned. She loved babysitting Aubrey, in fact she was Emily’s easiest client to care for and she was always happy to be called in last minute to babysit her. “Aubrey was a good girl today. After lunch we read a book and napped. Then we played in the park until 4:30, came home, washed up, ate the leftover chicken and risotto for dinner, and now here we are. She’s all clean and this is her ten minutes of playtime. Umm, the only thing I didn’t do was take care of our dinner dishes.”

“Thanks, kiddo. I’ve got it from here. And no worries about the dishes. I’ll Venmo you once I get her to bed later.”

“Thank you, Mr. Irwin.” Emily got up from her seat next to the tub and shuffled past Ashton out the bathroom. She paused before descending the stairs. “Let me know if anything comes up tomorrow. The Brown’s don’t need me at all this week.”

Ashton smiled at her and chuckled. “Will do.” Tomorrow was Aubrey’s birthday and their only plan was dinner with his three best friends.

Emily closed the front door behind her and left smiling.

Ashton stopped down to pull the plug on the bathtub drain. “Are you ready to get out?” He questioned the toddler, know she didn’t really comprehend his question. He reached down to scoop her up and she immediate lifted her arms so he could wrap her up in the kitty towel.

“Daddee uppie uppie,” she commanded. Ashton swaddled her in the towel and lifted her to his chest, nuzzling her wet curls with his nose. Aubrey was a spitting image of him down to the unruly curls and gleaming hazel eyes. Her curls were more unruly than his, he thought; combing them was the most difficult part of their bathing routine. He quickly spritzed a detangler in her hair with one hand while he held her up with the other arm. He brushed her hair and let her attempt to brush her teeth.

As Ashton dressed Aubrey for bed, she meowed again. “Girlfriend, what is with all the meowing tonight?” he laughed and blew a raspberry on her tummy. Aubrey giggled hysterically and Ashton was thinking that he should tell his best friends, Luke, Calum, and Michael about the meows.

Ashton tucked Aubrey into bed newly acquired big girl bed. He laid gingerly on the edge and snuggled up with his baby. She loved lullabies and stories at bedtime, so Ashton reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the princess fairy tales book they’ve been working their way through.

Ashton spent about 15 minutes reading before Aubrey yawned and he watched her eyes flutter shut. “Wub you daddee,” her tiny voice whispered. She was on the verge of falling into deep sleep so he kept reading. Several pages later, he abruptly stopped. Ashton swore he heard a small meow. He closed his eyes and opened them really wide, hoping to fend off his own sleepiness and hallucinations of meows.

Moments later, Ashton feathered a kiss to Aubrey’s forehead then got up and made his way downstairs. He silently ate his own leftover dinner and cleared the dishes.

He climbed the stairs avoiding the creaky step near the top. As Ashton tiptoed down the hallway to his room, he thought he heard a light thump followed by another tiny meow. “I am clearly losing it,” he whispered to himself.

Ashton brushed his teeth, combed his hair back into a loose topknot, and washed his face in preparation for bed. He turned on the small bedside table in his room then turned off the overhead light. His bare feet padded quietly down the hall to Aubrey’s room where he would check on her once more before climbing into his own bed.

Ashton entered Aubrey’s room and froze. Illuminated only by her nightlight, Ashton could see a tiny body on her pillow that wasn’t there when he tucked her in. He blinked and the body moved slightly. He blinked a second time, hoping he was seeing things, but caught a glimpse of light reflecting off a pair of eyes. His limbs were frozen in fear and he could feel his heart thudding out of his chest.

Meeeooowwwwww.

Ashton quickly flipped on the overhead light. Cuddled up next to Aubrey was the tiniest kitten Ashton had ever seen. In the bright light, she (or maybe he?) blinked her eyes at Ashton twice then closed them and lowered her head back down to cuddle up with Aubrey.

What the fuck, Ashton thought out loud, mystified how this tiny kitten got into the house.

He padded lightly over to her bed and scratched the kitten on its head. The kitten mewed and butted her head against Ashton’s hand, then licked his thumb. Aubrey stirred lightly and Ashton was afraid she was waking up so he quietly backed up.

Aubrey’s little hand and chubby fingers found the body of the kitten and snuggled it closer to her face. Still fast asleep, she murmured, “My kitty. Wub you kitty.”

Ashton’s heart melted. He quietly snuck back into his bedroom and grabbed his phone.

He quickly typed out a text to the group chat he shared with his best friends:

Guys, I think we’ve adopted a kitten here. I’ll explain tomorrow but can someone swing by the store to pickup an online order for me and bring it over?

Within minutes, Ashton had placed an online order for canned kitten food, kitten kibble, litter box and scoop, cat litter, food and water bowls and plates, collar with a jingle bell, brush, kitty shampoo, a fluffy beige-colored bed, and a few cat toys. Jeeze, he thought, this is like having another kid. He really had no idea what a kitten needed but he figured that would do for now. The rest he could figure out tomorrow.

Seconds later his phone dinged. He snatched it up and found a text from Luke:

Ha, that’s gonna be an interesting story. I’m on it. When and where?

Ashton tapped out the details and made himself a cup of tea while he waited for Luke. He sat at the table warming his hands around the mug and inhaling the lavender scent. It was early autumn and the sun was dipping into the horizon, throwing beautiful streaks of pink and orange across the sky. Although it was only 7, he was exhausted. He started appreciatively out the window at the paint-like sky for a few minutes then put his head down on his arms folded across the table and closed his eyes to rest for a few minutes.

Luke let himself in the back door and set the three bags down in the kitchen. Ashton was slumped over in his chair fast asleep. Luke gently shook his should to wake him. “Hey dad, I’m here with your kitty supplies.”

Ashton raised his head and looked at Luke sleepily. “Ugh, thanks. When I got home, Emily-“

Luke cut him off, “the super hot babysitter?”

Ashton rolled his eyes and fake punched Luke in the shoulder. Luke totally had a thing for Emily, and although he teased Ashton about her, he would never act on it. “Dude, no. She’s just a kid. Get your mind out of the gutter.” Emily was cute, but not exactly step-mom material. She would have been Ashton’s type ten years ago.

“All is fair in love and war,” Luke recited.

Ashton rolled his eyes again. “Anyway, Emily said that Aubrey has been meowing all afternoon since they came back from the park. Several times tonight I could have sworn that I heard the tiniest little meow inside the house. After I put Aubs to bed, I came down to eat dinner. I went back in to check on her and found this tiny ass kitten sleeping on her pillow!!”

Luke cocked an eyebrow, looking as surprised as Ashton felt. “Seriously?”

“Nooo,” Ashton started sarcastically. “I just needed an excuse to see your gorgeous face at 8pm on a Tuesday night.”

Luke let out a belly laugh and grabbed one of the cat bags. He marched towards the stairs, knowing his way around Ashton’s house like it was his own. “I want to see this mythical creature you have hiding in the house.”

Now it was Ashton‘s turn to laugh. He picked up the other two bags and jogged to catch up to Luke, who was already at the top of the stairs.

They set the bags in the hall and Ashton lead the way into Aubrey’s room. He held his pointer finger to his lips shushing Luke and Luke stuck out his tongue; he obviously didn’t need a reminder to be quiet.

Ashton flipped the bedside lamp on, and sure enough, the tiny kitten was still perched on Aubrey’s pillow, fast asleep.

Luke instinctively reached for the kitten and scooped it up, being rewarded with a mewl and a purr. He stepped into the hallway to get a better look at the two-pound creature that easily fit into his palm. He carefully flipped the kitten over to inspect its genitals. “Aww, Ash. I think you have a baby girl on your hands.” Luke nuzzled the kitten with his nose and passed her to Ashton.

“Wow, she’s so tiny.” Ashton breathed, holding the kitten at eye level. “And so pretty.” He studied the kitten. She was a soft, solid cream color except for her cloud gray accents. Her ears and nose were striped gray with the typical tabby markings. And it looked like she walked through wet paint because her toes and the tip of her tail were streaked with the same soft gray color.

Ashton handed the kitten back to Luke and snapped the collar around her neck. Luke nuzzled her again. He was a sucker for pretty girls and small, fuzzy critters. “Welcome to the family, precious.”

While Luke coaxed purrs from the kitten, Ashton busied himself dumping cat litter into the litter box, filled a bowl with water, and smeared some wet food onto a plate. He carefully arranged them in the bathroom so neither Aubrey or him would trip on them. Luke handed the kitten to Ashton, and Ashton brought her into the bathroom. First he showed her the litter box. He set her in the box and moved her paws in the litter, praying that she had already learned to do this. Next, Ashton set her in front of her wet food. She sniffed the air once and dove straight for the plate. Both men laughed. She gobbled up her entire ration in less than 30 seconds.

“Poor baby was hungry,” Ashton observed. Without warning, he let out a big yawn. “Let’s get her back to Aubs so I can go to bed.”

Luke scooped her up and the both tiptoed into Aubrey’s room. “Do you mind if I tuck them in?” Luke questioned.

“Nah, go for it.”

Luke gently slipped the kitty onto Aubrey’s pillow. He leaned in to kiss Aubrey on the forehead and whispered, “happy birthday, peanut! I hope you love the kitty I picked out for you.”

Aubrey’s eyes popped open. “UNCLE LUKEY?!” Her jaw gaped open, barely awake. “YOU BROUGHT ME SMUDGE? I WUB SMUDGE!” Aubrey sat up and snuggled the kitty closer.

Once again, Ashton was so confused.

Aubrey continued, “You are the bestest uncle ever Uncle Lukey!” She reached for Luke’s hand and tugged him down to her until they were eye to eye. She leaned toward Luke and planted a smacking wet kiss on his cheek. “I wub you so much!”

Ashton narrowed his eyes at Luke. “Did you really do what I think you did?”

“Busted!” Luke grinned sheepishly. “I knew you would say no to me getting a kitty for Aubs, so I decided to sneak it in while you were all out earlier. Surprise? I’d have gotten you a D-O-G because you’re missing out. Me, Cal, and Mikey know what’s up. But I figured a kitty was easier to deal with.”

Both men looked at the adoration on Aubrey‘s face. Ashton could see the love radiating from her smile and he was gone. “You’re the worst best friend I could have asked for,” Ashton laughed. “Thanks. How long have you had her?”

Luke leaned down again to scratch the kitty’s head. “I picked her up four days ago. She's as calm as can be, you’re really going to love her. I kinda think Petunia was angry at me when I took her away. Motherhood was really growing on her,” Luke laughed.

Aubrey got excited when she heard Petunia’s name. “Patooma is Smudge’s mommy??” she questioned.

Luke laughed again. Aubrey loved his dog as much as he did. “Nah, peanut. Petunia isn’t kitty’s mom. But they are best friends, just like me, and daddy, and Uncle Mikey and Uncle Cal. Maybe you and kitty can come visit Petunia this weekend. I think she’d love to see you!”

Aubrey pouted. “Kitty isn’t kitty!!” she yelled. “Kitty is Smudge! She has lotsa dirty smudges!”

Both Ashton and Luke chuckled. Ashton crossed over to Aubrey and Luke stepped away.

Ashton scooped up Aubrey and Smudge. “Sweet pea, Smudge is the most perfect name for your kitty. Let’s get you both tucked in again.”

Aubrey looked tired and complied without complaint. She snuggled down into her blanket and whispered, “I wub you daddee! I wub you Uncle Lukey! I wub you Smudge! And I wub Uncle Cal. And I wub Uncle Mikey. And I wub Patooma.”

“Shhhh,” Ashton interrupted her list. His little girl had the biggest heart and could go in for hours naming all the people she loved. “Get some rest sweet pea, I love you!” He kissed her forehead, turned off the lights and left her door open a crack.

Both men returned downstairs. “You’re a bastard,” Ashton told Luke. “The most lovable bastard I know. Thanks for the precious gift.”

Luke slipped on his shoes and grabbed his phone and keys off the counter. “Yeah, yeah,” he smiled. “You both deserve some companionship to cure the loneliness. You’ll love Smudge in no time too.”

Ashton threw his arms around Luke to hug him. “Love you brother, goodnight!”

“Love you, too.” And then Luke was gone, slipping out the back door.

Ashton flipped off all the downstairs lights and sprinted back upstairs, skipping the squeaky stair at the top. He slipped into bed and wondered what the hell just happened. He closed his eyes and slipped into a deep sleep.

Just before dawn, Ashton felt the bed dip beside him. Then he felt his pillow dip too. He rolled over and found Aubrey in his bed, and Smudge on his pillow. He pulled them both close, sighed contentedly, and went back to sleep.

Want to be tagged? Let me know!

#5sos fic #5sos blurb #ashton blurb #ashton irwin blurb #dad!ashton #larryologyfic

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withabackpackandcamera · 3 years ago

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June 29th, 2021

Day 4: A Morning in Husavik and An Afternoon in the Waterfalls of the Northeastern Highlands

Another morning, another late start. Though this time, it was a last minute, unplanned decision because of how tired Cynthia and I were. But once we were up, we quickly got ready, ate some breakfast, and drove back to Husavik where we spent the morning.

Since my last visit to Husavik, not much had changed in town (as far as I noticed) despite how wildly popular the Netflix original movie Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga was. So as we walked around, we took in the small town scenes and leisurely explored the waterside town of Husavik. We briefly strolled around the harbor under the cloudy skies before stopping to peek inside a souvenir shop on the edge of the harbor.

There, while looking around the shop, we briefly met Abba (sp?) and her sister who own the shop. Because I was interested in their take on Eurovision and was curious as to how the movie affected the town and businesses in Husavik, I struck up a conversation with Abba to ask her those questions. What was a simple starting question ended up being a nice conversation with an Icelandic local.

Abba told me how she thought the movie was accurate in a lot of the ways it portrayed things and stereotypes regarding Icelanders and how it was better than she expected. She also talked about the movie shooting, the actors that she saw around town, and the role some of her family members played in the movie and Oscars music video that was filmed here for the song “Husavik”. For example, her granddaughter was picked to be in the children’s choir that accompanied My Marianne (Molly Sanden) in her Oscars performance. And her daughter was picked to be an extra in the film. Abba was so excited talking about her family’s role that I could tell she was very proud of them. After talking for a bit about the movie’s influence on the town, she took me outside and quickly showed me some of the locations that were used in the film, like the building that served as the Jaja Ding Dong Bar, the bus stop where Lars and Sigrit were dropped off after their Eurovision performances, the house where Lars lived, and the harbor area where the children’s choir performed. What a great conversation I had that allowed me to gain local insights and perspectives into Husavik!

After taking a photo of the shop owners and bidding them a farewell and thank you, we continued our stroll through town and checked out the local Eymundsson bookstore and the picturesque and iconic Husavikurkirkja, Husavik’s wooden church. Cynthia, Minh, and I briefly walked inside and around the church before walking back out to meet my parents.

By this point, people were getting hungry so we decided to eat in Husavik instead of waiting to get back to Akureyri. After briefly scrolling through TripAdvisor and the streets for food options, we decided to stop to eat at Salka, a restaurant located near the harbor and right on the main street running through Husavik. And Salka was a great choice because the food was delicious and the weather outside was fantastic for spacious outdoor dining. We ordered four dishes for the family and the dishes were tiger prawns with risotto and salad, a fried shrimp main course with creole rice and veggies, ling (the fish of the day) served with mash potatoes, rice, and roasted veggies, and a seafood soup starter with shrimp and mussels in a creamy tomato base. The hot food was so flavorful and so delicious! So very good!

We headed out of town and back home once lunch was over to drop Cynthia off for work. We didn’t stop at home for very long before continuing our day sans Cynthia. The next stop was Aldeyjarfoss, located right off of the F26, one of Iceland’s highland mountain roads that require you to have a 4WD car in order to drive on the road. Aldeyjarfoss was located about a 1h20m drive from Akureyri and getting to the waterfall itself required that we drive on a dirt gravel road for a while before starting the F-road section of the drive. Luckily for us, the drive on the dirt gravel road was as smooth as it could be in our Kia Sportage and we zoomed down the road at a safe 100kph with barely anyone else on the road with us. Eventually, we arrived at the section of the road where I wasn’t quite sure if we’d be able to drive any further given that F26 around this area was supposedly closed based on the government maps online. But not seeing any road closure-specific signs or chains blocking the way, we continued on up the now-rougher mountain road until we reached the Aldeyjarfoss parking lot where one other car was parked.

The wind was blowing hard and crazily when we exited our car to hike 10-15 minutes down to see the waterfall. Because of the conditions and her knee, my mom stayed in the car and skipped out on the hike down. So my brother, dad, and I hiked down the dirt path toward Aldeyjarfoss. Once I started hiking down, my right heel started acting up again but I dealt with the pain and continued onwards until I got down to the waterfall. My dad didn’t actually make it all the way down and, instead, saw the waterfall from a windy distance before turning back to the car to shelter himself from the dusty gusts.

It took some time for me to get to the waterfall viewing spot but eventually, I made it to Aldeyjarfoss. The views of the waterfall rushing over the edge of the cliff lined with basalt columns was beautiful and extraordinary. However, given the mid-afternoon sun and lighting, the views were less picturesque than I had hoped for. Regardless, it was a stunning sight and worth the trip out after missed opportunities on previous Iceland trips.

I spent less time than originally expected at Aldeyjarfoss before heading back to the car. With plenty of time and afternoon sunlight left to enjoy, we continued two kilometers further up into the highlands on F26 toward the only other stop we could get to in this specific area (because we finally found the road closure sign chained across the road): the waterfall Hrafnabjargafoss.

Hrafnabjargafoss was a super cool waterfall located off the main F26 and right after a stretch of very rocky side road. It took some slow, careful driving to get the car safely out to a parkable area of dirt next to the waterfall but eventually we made it. The views of the waterfall were spectacular, grand, and so very different from the ones we got at Aldeyjarfoss. What a hidden gem! My dad, Minh, and I wandered around the waterfall taking photos of the waterfall and each other before we finally headed back to the car to make our way back to Akureyri for an early dinner, a first for this trip.

We made a short gas and car washing stop on the way back home before finally arriving at the AirBnB, where we got started on cooking our homemade dinner to try and use up as much of our leftover ingredients as possible to avoid having to lug it with us to our next destination on the east coast tomorrow. With all of our leftovers, I was able to concoct a pretty good mi xao (fried egg noodle) dish, which included sausage/ham, scrambled eggs, egg noodles, spinach, bell peppers, onions, and carrots, for the family to enjoy. It was a pretty good meal despite being the result of a simple goal of finishing up leftovers!

After finishing dinner and watching some soccer, we all left home and walked to get ice cream nearby at Ísbúðin Akureyri. The shop was poppin’ with people at 10pm with tons of people lined up for a late night treat. And I could see why with all the options they had in terms of ice cream, soft serve, shakes, and toppings. So many options! I ended up buying a cone of vanilla soft serve topped with oreos and crunch sphere things. And it was really good! Once everyone received their orders and had enjoyed half of their ice creams at the tables outside the shop, we walked briefly around downtown Akureyri before heading back home, with Cynthia and I taking a different path home in order to show Cynthia more of Akureyri.

By the time Cynthia and I arrived home, the sun was starting to set slowly in the sky but the night was still young. With a potentially beautiful sunset on tap for the evening, Minh and I left the AirBnB to drive north toward the town of Laufas with the goal of finding some random but unique photo opportunities along the way. During our thirty minute drive out of town, we found two photogenic scenes to stop at, the first being a sun-glazed pasture where some horses were wandering around and grazing and the second being a stretch of road lined with lupines with the sun setting in the distance. Despite two stops, it was hard to find the right photo opps on our brief excursion and after an hour or so out and about, we turned back and called it a night, knowing that there would be a long day ahead tomorrow with our trip from Akureyri to Seyðisfjörður.

5 Things I Learned/Observed Today:

1. There are approximately 2500 people who live in Husavik. And even in a small town like Husavik, the people here didn’t get star-struck or bat an eye when celebrities (namely Will Ferrell and Rachel McAdams) hit the streets of town to shoot a movie. They just go on living their normal, Icelandic lives on the north shore.

2. According to the gift shop owner Abba, not much has changed in Husavik (like travel traffic, tourists, restaurants to feed tourists) since the filming and release of Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga in 2020. That is mostly because of the way that the pandemic limited international travel to Iceland and Husavik. But something that the film and resulting Oscars nomination performance did bring to town was the start of a new children’s choir, something Husavik didn’t have prior to the Oscars performance and something the kids in town are really excited about!

3. In Iceland, car washing is important because of the crazy weather conditions that can cake volcanic ash, dust, dirt, etc, onto your car. And you can see the emphasis that is placed on car washing in Iceland when you stop by certain gas stations. Some gas stations provide big free-to-use broom brushes with a hole in the middle of the bristles where water from a water hose flows out of that is used to wash your car! It’s an incredible and ingenious contraption that makes the squeegees of America look primitive and caveman-ish. We should have these broom brushes in Los Angeles for sure! If you saw it and had a dirty car, wouldn’t you want to use it too? Oh, the satisfaction in rinsing off all that crap from your car!

4. So, how do you know if certain F roads are closed at certain times of the year? Check out www.road.is for the most up-to-date information on road closures and driving conditions. Sometimes, even the maps on there are hard to figure out and you’re not quite sure if things are open or closed based on how things are labeled. Fear not, if an F road is closed and not driveable, there should be chained signs at certain points along the road that block access to those not-yet-driveable sections of F roads (at least, that’s what it looked like on F26). I learned this first hand on the way to Aldeyjarfoss and Hrafnabjargafoss.

5. Driving can sometimes be kind of crazy in Iceland with two-lane highways and people speeding along the road when they’re in the middle of nowhere. With so many sheep grazing close to the roads and not necessarily protected behind wired fences, it’s incredible not to see more dead sheep road kill in Iceland! Maybe it’s because we see them from a distance and we expect them and look for them to cross the road all the time. What’s even crazier, though, is that there are way more roadkill birds in Iceland (along our drive, at least) compared to dead sheep or dead any other animal. That’s incredibly weird!

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andersonswalsh · 7 years ago

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Fic: Teach Me How Love Goes (for Klaine Advent Day 5/24)

And a truth comes out! Which truth? Read on!

Day 5: Example | Day 4 | Day 6 | AO3

Kurt checks his school email over lunch and almost drops his container of leftover risotto out of his hand.

To: Kurt Hummel ([email protected]) From: Tina Cohen-Chang ([email protected]) Sent: November 17, 2025 9:48 AM Subject: Will be late today

Hi, Kurt. Blaine’s in California visiting his brother this week so I’ll be picking Lydia up from school. Unfortunately I have a meeting at 1:45 that won’t get me out until 3, so I will be a little late getting her, hopefully no more than fifteen minutes. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.

Tina

He thinks back to the last time they saw each other. When Blaine suggested they perform a duet at the reception he mentioned that he’d be going to the wedding with Tina as his date. Kurt was fine with it; he’d just begun seeing Adam, so it wasn’t as if reuniting so soon after the breakup was going to happen. After their number ended to rousing applause Kurt went to the refreshment table where Tina, who watched them from a table nearby, lit into him about wanting to get back with her new boyfriend. Kurt was taken aback, as he hadn’t realized it was that serious between Blaine and Tina. When Blaine heard the commotion and Kurt told him everything, Blaine sided with Tina, saying “I’m sorry, I’m with her now.” Kurt left the reception from there, cried in his bed at his dad and Carole’s house all evening, and bumped his flight to New York up as early as he could. That was the last he saw of either of them until Lydia’s first day of school.

He types up a reply. That’s fine. With how chilly it is today I’ll keep her in my classroom. Just come on back. Once it sends, he takes a few deep breaths. This is going to be a long afternoon.

After the other students head home he sees Lydia looking nervous at her seat. “What’s wrong?”

“Is Mama coming?” she asks.

Kurt nods. “She told me she’ll be a little late. I know Daddy’s usually out front pretty early, but she had something come up. She’ll be here soon. If you want, you can get the crayons out and draw something for her. Is that okay?”

Lydia nods and gets up. She races over to the art corner, long dark hair flying behind her. Kurt returns to his desk and checks up on some of his favorite gossip sites on his phone, checking on Lydia every couple minutes.

When Tina arrives she knocks on the door. Kurt looks up and she grins. “Hi there,” she says.

“Tina, come on in,” he waves her in. She looks as stunning as ever: hair pulled over her left shoulder, black coat and leather boots framing her. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been wonderful. How about you?”

“Good. Do you want to take a seat? I think Lydia’s busy making something for you.”

“Sure.” She pulls at the belt of her jacket and takes it off, revealing green colorblock dress that glows against her skin. And a very prominent baby bump.

“Wow,” Kurt says, “Lydia never told me she was getting a brother or sister.”

“Brothers,” Tina corrects as she eases into the chair across from Kurt. “We just found the sexes out on Thursday.”

“Congratulations, Tina. You two deserve this.”

She nods. “Thank you. Even if I don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kurt, I am so, so sorry for what happened back then. I should never have assumed you wanted to get back with Blaine.”

“It’s okay,” he says, “it’s been a long time, I’m over it.”

Tina shakes her head. “No. You know how I was when you were still in Lima. The girl who faked the stutter and finally gained all the confidence, even though she was always overshadowed by Rachel, or Mercedes, or even Santana. When senior year finally came I was ready. I thought it was finally going to be my time to shine. And I still didn’t. I had the lead at sectionals but it was Gangnam Style, and then I was overshadowed when Marley fainted at the end of it.

“Blaine--he obviously went through a lot after you left for New York. When he opened up to me about cheating on you I told him there was no way I could judge him, since even I technically cheated on Artie during Asian Camp. And our friendship just--it became something more. I fell hard and fast for him, Kurt. He treated me exactly like I wanted to be treated. When you came back for the wedding and you two agreed to sing together, I guess I got a little jealous. I thought I could never compare to you in Blaine’s eyes.”

“Oh, Tina,” Kurt sighs. He wants to reach over and hug her. “I wasn’t there for him. And if I’d known you two were officially a couple before that, I probably would have asked to sing with you instead. But...you really did hurt me.”

“I know I did.” Tina’s eyes begin to water, and Kurt grabs a Kleenex from his desk to hand to her. “Thanks,” she says as she dabs the corners. “I was such a bitch--sorry for using that word in here. You didn’t deserve that.”

“So why are you apologizing now? Why not any time after it happened.”

“Because outside of Blaine I wasn’t happy. I started getting therapy during my sophomore year at Brown and it made me realize how awful I was throughout. And after--after that I avoided a lot of people for a while. But I want to be a good example to my daughter, and to my sons when they arrive. I want to show them that you should stick by your friends no matter what. And that’s what I want, Kurt. I miss our friendship, and I know Blaine does too.”

It’s then that Kurt realizes he’s crying too. “I want it too.” He gets up and comes around the desk, pulling Tina into a hug.

It isn’t long before they’re interrupted. “Mama? Mr. Hummel?”

Tina looks at the drawing in Lydia’s hands. “Oh, honey, that’s so beautiful!” Kurt sees flowers drawn all over--red and yellow. “Are you ready to get home?”

Lydia nods. “Go get your things, Lyd,” Kurt says. As she pulls her coat on and Tina does the same, he takes a post-it out of his drawer and scribbles a number on it before handing it to Tina. “The olive branch has been accepted,” he says. “You two can call or text me any time.”

“Sounds good.” She sticks it into the front pocket of her purse and takes Lydia’s hand. “We have a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”

He laughs as he grabs his own coat and messenger bag. “We definitely do.”

#klaine advent 2017 #klaine advent: example #where steph thinks she can write

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hail-and-well-met-my-dude · 7 years ago

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Taking the World by Firestorm, Part I

Read on AO3 here

Taako is eyeing a pair of giant hoop earrings at a market kiosk, fingers itchy, when Lup bounds up to him. Her eyes are shining and she’s holding a large stack of papers in her arms.

“What’s up, Lu?” She raises an eyebrow at him, and she probably would have punched him in the face if not for the papers precariously cradled in her hands.

“I want to go to nerd school.” His hands pull back from where they were surreptitiously worrying the earrings and go to his hips.

“You want to what?” He can see, now, that the stack of papers is a bunch of application documents, on the top of which is a flyer that proudly, in bold red letters exclaims, ‘Become a Red Robe! Apply for I.P.R.E. today!’ along with pictures of an elf, a human, and a dragonborn all clad in red, arms linked, with the circular insignia of the Institute emblazoned on their robes. Ew, they’re all matching, Taako thinks.

She begins leafing through the documents, occasionally thrusting one into his face expecting him to read, all while chattering excitedly.

“Do you think we could find a reference? Page three says we need one… Oh shit no, it says we need two. Well, I’m sure the owner of that dive bar we cooked for would vouch for us if we threw some gold his way. Oh, and if we ace this audition bit, we won’t need to worry about tuition and training fees. It says the rooms are supplied, and spacious, but we both know that’s bullshit, they probably count vertical space in the square footage and expect everyone to be in bunkbeds like snot-nosed brats. Anyway…” And she goes on.

Taako turns away from the jewelry display and faces Lup completely. She stops, mouth open, then closes it. On anyone else it would look sheepish. From the angle of her jaw, though, Taako can tell she’s being more… mule-ish.

“You want to go to school? You want to apply for a four-year program at a--” He grabs one of the papers near the top and points to a line “--’prestigious research institute for the arts both arcane and otherwise’. Lup, we’ve spent our entire lives doing magic for money on the road, and we’ve done fine! So fine enough that I might actually pay for these earrings!” He takes them off the display and holds them in her face.

She looks at them, then back at Taako, with her eyebrow still raised. Don’t hold your face like that for too long, it might stick, he thinks. “You know those are fake, right? They only cost a few copper. Your ears’ll be green in a couple hours.”

Taako bristles. “Fine!” He throws the earrings at the display and brushes past his sister back in the direction of the merchant they’ve been travelling with. “You can try this nerd thing, train with some knuckleheads who can’t tell a second-level evocation spell from a cantrip, explore the planarverse, and when you get back,” He looks over his shoulder and sees her, eyes blazing, following him with the application papers still clenched in her arms, “Send a carrier pidgeon my way. I’ll be a famous travelling chef by then, whose risotto won’t burn because someone can’t help but throw some pyrotechnics in the mix.” His fists are shaking as he keeps walking, then slows. Her boots aren’t right behind him, they’ve stopped.

He can see her standing in the road when he looks back again, heart pounding in his chest. She is still furious and she might catch the papers on fire if she’s not careful, but they might be extinguished by the tears he can see forming in her eyes.

“You asshat, can’t you see this? We might get to learn from people who actually know what they’re doing, train with the best, and do dope shit for the world, and this is what you want to keep doing? Smelling mercenary armpits day-in and day-out, who can’t even tell that the risotto is burnt because they don’t know what a fucking risotto is?! This is all you want?!”

She’s drawing an audience, now. For the first time in as long as he can remember, he wishes she wouldn’t.

Lup walks towards him, then passes him, hitting his shoulder with hers. Even though she didn’t put any fire in it, it burns.

That evening, in the tent (like, yeah, it’s a tent, but they’re made it a comfy-ass tent. They’ve made it their home, or the closest thing they’ll ever get to one!), Taako sees Lup setting out her nicest clothes, the closest thing to ‘business attire’ that either of them own. Clean, pressed tan trousers, her shiniest knee-high boots, a red shirt that is just nice enough to possibly considered a blouse, and a blue blazer Taako didn’t even know she had.

He sighs and looks at his hands, rough, dry, and cracked despite the ridiculous amount of lotion he uses to try to make them soft. Scarred and calloused. The hands of an urchin-turned-travelling-chef. Not the hands of someone deserving of an institute, much less the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration.

Or…

“You’re really gonna do this, aren’t you Lup.” There’s no question in his voice.

“Whether you want me to or not, brother,” she says across the tent. Her voice is almost completely steady, but quavers at the last syllable, just like his resolve.

“You know,” He says, reaching for one of the ten applications she grabbed in her fervor to get one, and then another just in case, then a backup for the backup, “it would be really unfortunate if we wasted all this paper.” He finally looks up at her across the tent, where she’s shining her boots for the third time that night. “I might as well fill one out, too.”

Her face breaks into a sly grin at the toes of her boots. “Nah, I don’t think they could handle the both of us there. The atmosphere can only probably hold the cool factor of one Tacco twin at a time.”

“Good thing I’m getting in and not you, goofus.” He grabs the quill on the table between them and begins scratching in his sparse personal information, the perfect mirror of Lup’s.

“Oh, you spend the whole day coming up with that sick burn, dingus? I’m honored!” She throws one of the roughly twenty pillows they keep all over at his head. He pretends not to see the tear on her cheek, but the pillow smacks his writing hand and the quill scritches across the whole page.

“Damn it, hand me another one!” He says and lobs it at her, where she incinerates it midair, easier than breathing. Her howling laughter fills the tent with warmth and they toss the leftover papers in the air just to watch them burn.

#i have enough for at least five more parts #they're not super long but i'm digging this #like little vignettes? maybe?#taz #the adventure zone #taako #lup #the twins #they're going to school #i think of IPRE as similar to starfleet #they take applicants and train them then send them on missions #my stuff #fanfiction #thezonecast #other characters to be introduced later

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