summary: never one to cave to your antics, arber finally does when you buy matching christmas pyjamas for the two of you.
warnings: none!
wc: 1.29k
notes: sixth piece of my 12 days of xmas celly! i can just imagine trying to coax arber into little self care activities and him having none of it
The first time you tried to coax Arber into wearing a facemask, he stared at you as though you'd just suggested he should sprout wings and fly to the moon. He leaned against the doorway, his solid frame eclipsing the light from the hallway, arms folded across his broad chest in a posture of amused resistance. You were perched on the edge of the bathroom sink, a strip of mint-green clay smeared across your cheeks, grinning at him.
“I’m not putting that on my face,” he said, his voice rumbling with a finality that allowed no argument.
You’d argued anyway, of course.
“It’s not just about skincare — it’s fun!” you’d said, lifting the pot of face mask. “You can be a part of the experience. Bonding time! Come on, what’s the harm?”
Arber’s jaw tightened, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if fighting a reluctant smile. “Hard pass. Thanks, though.”
It became a routine, this back-and-forth between you—your bubbling excitement meeting his steady practicality. When you tried to pluck his eyebrows, telling him they were getting out of hand, he had held your hand in his for a long moment, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip, and simply said, “No.”
And yet, despite his stubbornness, you never doubted that Arber loved you. He loved you in the way he always pulled you closer when you snuggled on the couch, his large hands gentle on your shoulders. He loved you in the way he always remembered your coffee order, down to the extra shot of espresso you always got. He loved you in the way he kissed your forehead before heading out the door, as though sealing a promise that he’d always come back.
But love, you knew, didn’t mean unreserved compliance with your whims.
So when December rolled around and you unveiled the matching Christmas pyjamas, you braced yourself for another rejection. They were kitschy in the best way — white flannel pyjamas with Christmas trees scattered across the fabric. You presented them with a flourish, holding them up against your chest and grinning.
“Absolutely not,” was Arber’s immediate response, though his tone lacked the conviction it usually carried.
You pouted, clutching your own pyjamas to your chest. “Come on, Arber. It’s Christmas! It’s festive! Plus, I already sent a teaser to our moms.”
His brow furrowed. “You did what?”
“Teased a surprise. If I don’t send them photos of us wearing them, people will riot,” you said, only half-joking.
Arber sighed deeply, the kind of sigh that spoke of a man resigning himself to fate. “This is blackmail,” he muttered, though the spark in his eyes betrayed his amusement.
That evening, as you flitted around the kitchen making a batch of shortbread cookies, you heard the sound of the bedroom door creaking open. You turned to find him standing there, his expression half-sheepish, half-defiant.
He was wearing the pyjamas.
The fabric clung awkwardly to his muscular frame, the sleeves stretched just a bit too tight around his biceps. The ridiculous reindeer pattern seemed incongruous on a man as solid and stoic as Arber, and yet—your heart swelled with affection at the sight.
The ridiculous pattern seemed out of place on a man as solid and stoic as Arber, and yet — your heart swelled with affection at the sight.
“You look amazing,” you declared, bounding over to him and beaming up at his slightly embarrassed face. “Look at us! We’re adorable!”
Arber glanced down at himself, then at you, your matching pyjamas fitting far more comfortably. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased.
“You’re happy?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as though your answer mattered more than he wanted to admit.
“Ridiculously so,” you replied, and you weren’t exaggerating. The sight of him — this man who so often resisted your playful schemes, now standing here in absurdly festive attire — made your chest ache with a warm, almost unbearable fondness.
“Okay,” he said simply, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “Then I guess this isn’t so bad.”
You threw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek before pulling him toward the couch. The two of you sat there for hours, watching a Christmas movie of Arber’s choosing (giving him a small win that evening). The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree cast a soft glow over the room. Arber held you close, the faint smell of pine mingling with the warmth of his skin.
And later, when you sent a photo of the two of you in your matching pyjamas to your mothers — Arber grinning despite himself, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders — their swooning comments soon poured in.
Your phone buzzed incessantly on the coffee table, lighting up with a flurry of messages. You reached for it, laughing as Arber tried to discreetly peer over your shoulder. He wasn’t fooling anyone; his curiosity was evident in the slight tilt of his head and the way his arm remained snugly around you, holding you close.
The first message came from your mom.
Mom: Oh my gosh! Look at my babies! Arber, you look so handsome in those PJs! The little reindeer is so cute!
You snorted, showing him the text. “See? My mom thinks you’re pulling them off.”
Arber grumbled something incoherent, though his lips quirked up in the faintest of smirks. He was trying hard to act unaffected, but the faint flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.
More messages followed quickly.
Simona: Sweetheart, you two are the CUTEST. Arber, I never thought I'd see the day. Don’t worry, I saved this picture for future family gatherings 😉
You couldn’t contain your laugh, clutching your stomach as Arber groaned beside you, his hand covering his eyes
“She’s never letting me live this down, is she?” he muttered, but the corners of his eyes crinkled with quiet amusement.
“Oh, absolutely not,” you teased. “She’s probably already planning the scrapbook spread.”
You could feel Arber’s chest vibrating against your back as he chuckled, finally breaking down under the avalanche of love and teasing. His amusement was contagious, and you couldn’t stop grinning.
“Okay, okay, enough,” he said, trying to sound gruff but failing miserably as his laughter slipped through. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Oh, absolutely,” you agreed without hesitation, shifting so you could look up at him. His expression had softened entirely now, his eyes warm as they met yours. “But admit it. You’re enjoying it a little too.”
He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and lingering.
“I’ll admit something,” he said after a beat, his voice low. “Seeing you like this—happy, excited—makes it worth it. Even if it means looking like an overgrown Christmas elf.”
You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the rare candidness of his words. His lips twitched upward, and you could tell he was trying to play it cool, but the sincerity in his eyes was undeniable.
“You’re such a sap,” you murmured, though your voice wavered with emotion.
“Only for you,” he countered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.
You sat there in a comfortable silence for a moment, letting the warmth of his presence settle around you. His arm tightened slightly, pulling you closer.
And though you knew he’d never admit it out loud, you caught him glancing at the reflection of the two of you in the darkened window, his lips quirking in a satisfied smile.
In his mind, Arber was already making a note to indulge you more often. Sure, your antics were often ridiculous and sometimes exasperating, but they lit you up in a way that made every second worth it.
It was late at night when Arber stepped through the doorway of his and y/n’s apartment. He was tired, eye bags underneath his eyes, letting his bag fall to the floor with a soft thud. He kicked his shoes off and shuffled through the living room and down the hallway, basking in the quiet atmosphere it provided.
He stopped just shy of the bedroom, eyes locking in on the light that shone from underneath the door. He rubbed a hand over his face, eyes blinking, mind reeling. She shouldn’t have been up this late, she had work tomorrow, she had to be up early.
He turned the doorknob and walked into their bedroom, eyes settling on his girlfriend who sat at her desk, her chin on her knee and her other leg tucked under her, headphones playing what he could only assume was Christmas music as she worked on something. He smiled when he noticed what she was wearing, one of his sweatshirts that he didn’t really wear anymore, most likely because she had stolen it.
Arber’s steps were quiet as he walked towards her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder in order not to startle her. He could see her jump when his hand met her shoulder, hand moving to take off her headphones and head turning to look up at him. Y/n grinned, reaching up and lacing her fingers with his, “Hi.”
“Hi baby.” He kissed her head, wrapping his arms around her from behind as best as he could while she still sat in the chair.
She moved her hand to rest on his forearm, rubbing her thumb back and forth over his arm hair. She turned her head to kiss his bicep, snuggling into his arms, “Nice fight today.”
Y/n heard his light scoff, frowning as he removed his arms around her. She watched as he walked over to the other side of the room, peeling off his shirt to replace it with a new one. He didn’t say anything, just moving to change into a pair of shorts before standing over her.
She gave him a curious look but followed his silent motion to stand up. He took her seat, spreading his legs slightly as he sat down. Her curiousness settled into annoyance, “So first you interrupt my work, then you don’t reply to me and now you’re sitting in my seat? That’s a little rude if you-”
Arber’s arm reached out and wrapped around her waist, pulling her down into his lap so she was straddling him. Her squeal got a small chuckle out of him, burying his head into her neck and placing soft kisses there. He didn’t say anything, not in response to her statement and not to explain what he was doing, just sat there kissing her neck.
“Stop it,” she murmured quietly, “I still have work to do.”
“You shouldn’t be up this late, you have work tomorrow.”
“But I have work to do-”
“You can do it tomorrow at work, baby. That’s why it’s called work.”
“I don’t think so, but if you want to believe that you can. Now you gonna tell me what’s going on with you or am I dealing with this whole pouty thing you got going on here?”
He rolled his eyes, placing one last kiss on her neck before pulling away. She took in his features, the bags under his eyes, his drooping eyes, and the roughness of his growing stubble. Her eyes moved to where his hands were resting on her hips, they weren’t that bruised or cut up, but she could see the light cracks in them from the dryness.
She had seen the fight earlier, watching the game from the comfort of their living room with a mug of hot chocolate. She loved it when Arber fought, but tonight was different. The game was going horribly, they were down three courtesy of Cole’s goal a few minutes prior, they were playing Boston, and she could tell her boyfriend had been on edge all game.
She cupped his face, thumbs brushing underneath his eyes, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. She could see the tension release from his body, easing into the chair more and basking in her touch.
He leaned up and kissed her, bringing one hand to the ends of her hair and tugging softly but enough to elicit a groan from her. He smiled, pulling away and resting his forehead against hers, “I’m okay.”
“Why don’t you go to bed? I’m almost done, I’ll be there in a minute, ‘kay?”
He shook his head in protest, helping her turn around in his lap so her back was flush with his chest. He scooted them closer to the desk, his arms wrapped tight around her waist, hand slipping underneath her shirt and rubbing small circles with his thumb on her stomach. He pressed a light kiss to her shoulder, murmuring as he did so, “Staying right here. You can work.”
She nodded, going to pull her headphones back on when his hand stopped her again, “Wanna listen to your music. Please.”
She took her headphones off fully, placing them down on her desk after turning them off. She reached over to her phone, pressing play, smiling at Arber’s laugh when the two heard Last Christmas playing through the speaker.
“Don’t judge me.”
“I’m not, would never.” He kissed her shoulder again, resting his head in between her shoulder blades.
ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤
It was thirty minutes later when she finished her work, closing her laptop with a sigh. Arber’s thumb had long stopped his movements against her stomach, his breathing evening out and his body going slack against her back.
She twisted as best as she could so she could face him, running a hand through his hair, and untangling the small knots she encountered on the way. He stirred slightly, eyes blinking slowly as they adjusted to the darkness of their bedroom.
He removed his head from her back, using his hand to brush the hair out of his face that she hadn’t. He looked from her to her closed laptop and gave her a sleepy smile, “Done?”
“Mhm, time for bed.”
He helped her stand up, hands back on her waist as he stood up as well. His hands snaked up under her sweatshirt, “Arms up.”
She did as she was told, lifting her arms slightly so Arber could remove the heavy sweatshirt she was wearing. He knew how uncomfortable she got when she slept with heavy layers on, always opting to snuggle under multiple blankets rather than to wear more clothing.
He threw the sweatshirt to the side, dragging her with him to the bed. He laid down first, opening his arms so she could crawl into them. She did as so, curling into him and sighing when he brought the comforter around her, hugging her close to his chest.
Y/n leaned up a bit, pressing a kiss to his jaw before settling back into the cocoon she found herself in, “I still stand by my statement earlier, it was a good fight.”
She laughed as he grumbled something incoherent, looking up to see a frown on his face. She raised an eyebrow, “I thought you liked it when I complimented your fighting.”
“I do. Just not that fight. Could’ve done better for you.”
“You’re right, I have seen better fights from you but it was a fight nonetheless. As long as you aren’t severely hurt, I’m happy.”
“Should say that in my next interview when they ask me why I like fighting.”
“I don’t know how happy people would be if you said you did it so when you got home you could fuck your girlfriend.”
He scoffed playfully, “Hey! I do not always do it to have sex with you. Sometimes it just happens.”
[11k] a seemingly random attack seems to be the start of a big problem for the new jersey devils and you find yourself one of the main targets. fortunately, you have one of the team's best as your appointed bodyguard. unfortunately, he seems to want nothing to do with you.
new jersey mob masterlist || nhl mob masterlist
warning: this is a mob au. topics and themes such as violence, blood, murder and gun use are prevalent and constant throughout the fic. please keep that in mind if you choose to proceed with this fic and the whole series.
.
“Did no one ever tell you as a kid that this much sugar is going to rot your teeth?”
“Well, brother dearest, considering you were the one who raised me, I think that’s a question you should be asking yourself.”
“You know, it’s kinda your fault her nickname is Candy,” a voice sounded from the background of the phone call. You beamed, almost imagining your brother’s face scrunching up at the callout. “Her sweet tooth is strongly encouraged by you.”
“Shut up, Jack.”
“Just pointing out the facts.”
“No one asked.”
“I assume you don’t want an eclair then?” You questioned, interrupting the bickering boys on the phone. The silence that followed made your grin widen.
“Tell Peter to give me the biggest one.”
“He always does,” you retorted, phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as the small bakery came into view. “Tell Jack I’ll get him those lemon muffins he likes.”
“You’re the best, Candy!” Jack’s voice rang through the phone.
“I know,” you answered simply, letting the bell ring above your head as you pushed the bakery door open.
You smiled when you saw Peter—a sweet boy, no older than his mid-twenties with ruffled hair and constantly flushed cheeks—standing behind the counter with a stained apron on and a determined look on his face that softened when he saw you.
“The usual?”
“You know it.”
“Coming right up, Candy!”
“Luke thinks Peter has a crush on you,” Jack’s voice came through the phone once again.
“I’ll shove a cupcake down his throat before he can try anything,” Timo grumbled.
You rolled your eyes. “You’ll do no such thing, I’d rather not get banned,” you said, grinning a little when you heard Timo scoff. “And as flattered as I am, he’s a bit too soft for me.”
“I bet he wouldn’t be so soft if you—”
“Zip it, Hughes.”
You snorted. “I’m high maintenance. Peter couldn’t handle that.”
“No one in their right mind can.”
“I can think of a few who could.”
Timo huffed. “It’s like you’re trying to make me feel murderous on a Sunday. It’s God’s day. I don’t kill on Sundays.”
“Well,” Jack started. “You did kill that dodgy fisherman a few weeks back on a Sunday—”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“Pete is a good guy, surely you’d want her to date him over anyone else—”
“It’s like you have a death wish.”
“He’s winding you up,” you snorted, making yourself comfortable since the bakery was empty and settling on the counter by the cash register. “And you fall for it every time.”
“Whatever,” Timo grumbled, and you could almost imagine the frown on his face. “Why are you over at Peter’s anyways? I thought Nico sent you to Philly.”
“Jonas went alone instead,” you shrugged, despite the fact the boy couldn’t see you. “Apparently back up wasn’t needed and the negotiations were going fine. He wants me to head towards Buffalo instead. They are avoiding his calls.”
Jack snorted. “Leave it to Nico to send Candy instead of leaving a voicemail.”
“I’m scarier,” you grinned.
Timo laughed. “Yeah, just as terrifying as a pink poodle.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’ll suffocate you with my fur coat.”
“You wouldn’t be able to catch me in those heels.”
“You underestimate me, Tims,” you grinned.
He let out a disgusted groan. “Don’t call me that.”
When it came to life in the mob, there were a few rules you had to always remember.
One: never trust someone not sworn in. No matter what they say and no matter what they do to try and prove themselves, no man or woman not under that same oath and protection will ever have your back.
Two: make alliances with your brain and not your heart. It sounded stupid but far too many times have people found themselves entering stupid deals and negotiations to get what they wanted, far too blinded by their own desires to take off their rose-tinted glasses.
Three: always—and emphasis on the always—be alert. You never know when an enemy can strike. You never know who’s lingering in the shadows, ready to catch you off-guard.
Unfortunately for you, it was the third rule you found yourself forgetting as the sound of glass smashing echoed through the small bakery.
There was a ringing in your ears, muffling the sounds of screams and yells and gunshots as the world seemed to move in slow motion around you. You were distantly aware that one of the voices was your brother on the phone, the other Peter somewhere in the back. But you could barely focus on your own thoughts as you quickly dropped to the ground, your back pressed against one of the booths as the gunshots continued to rain through the shop.
You cursed yourself for not being alert. You cursed yourself for leaving your gun in your car. You cursed yourself for not even peeking to see how many men were shooting before you ducked to safety.
You were so far in your own thoughts that it took a while to realise the gunshots had stopped.
You jumped out of your skin when you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning to find Peter staring back at you with a pale face and wide eyes. His lips were moving but you couldn’t seem to process the words he was saying.
“Calm down,” you managed to mutter out, placing your hand over his and squeezing. “You’re gonna be okay.”
But the boy shook his head. “We need to get a doctor.”
You blinked, your brain hardly keeping up with him. “What? Why?”
Peter almost looked nervous as he spoke, as white dots began to blur your vision and his face morphed into blobs of colours. His mouth was moving, a pink and reddish blob that kept changing shape, as you strained to hear what he said.
And then, your vision went black.
…
“You were hurt!”
“Timo—”
“Seriously injured! Hospitalised!”
“It doesn’t count as a hospital if it’s just in the house—”
“You were shot!” Timo gritted out through clenched teeth, his fists clenched at his side so tight that his knuckles were white.
“Shot is a bit of an exaggeration,” you murmured under your breath.
Timo turned on his heel, his eyes narrowed in a glare. “A fucking bullet went through you, how the fuck would you describe that?”
“An unfortunate occurrence,” you retorted despite Nico shooting you a look to behave, to not wind your brother up any further. “It hardly warrants the need of a babysitter.”
“A bodyguard,” Nico corrected.
“Semantics,” you waved him off.
“You were a part of a targeted attack against us,” Timo hissed, the vein on his forehead starting to pop out. “A bodyguard is exactly what you need right now.”
“Everyone in this fucking room has been a part of a targeted attack,” you snapped back at your older brother. “News flash! It comes with the fucking lives we live! You are being far too dramatic over one little bullet wound.”
“My mistake for caring,” Timo deadpanned.
“It’s not the worst I’ve experienced and you know it,” you retorted, watching the boy’s mouth snap shut. You let out a sigh, a wave of guilt washing over you as you pushed yourself off Nico’s couch and walked closer to your brother. “I’m fine. I promise.”
Timo opened his mouth.
“Timo,” you said in a softer voice, watching his shoulders drop. “Look, if anything weird happens in the next few weeks or if we have any reason to believe they will specifically attack me again, then I’ll agree to a bodyguard.”
Timo looked conflicted. “Promise?”
“Pinky promise,” you replied, grinning far too wide for someone who was barely allowed out of bed so soon. “Now, put your big boy pants on and go do something productive.”
Nico’s brows furrowed together. “You know I’m the boss here, right?”
“Send him somewhere far away for the week!”
…
“You promise you’re okay?”
“Geez, what are you, my mother?” You grumbled, your fingers dancing over the hangers on the rail as the boy followed behind you. “I’m okay. Doctor just said no strenuous activities.”
Alex raised his brows. “Are you mentally okay? Emotionally okay?”
“Forget my mother, are you my therapist?” You muttered, turning to look at the boy with narrowed eyes. “How much did Timo pay you?”
Alex scoffed. “What makes you think he paid me anything?”
“Because you never come shopping with me, let alone willingly,” you retorted with something quite triumphant in your smile.
“Yeah, well, shopping is a strenuous activity when it comes to you,” Alex grumbled under his breath, readjusting the countless bags and hangers in his hands. “I couldn’t let you hurt yourself any more than you currently are.”
You beamed, lightly patting his cheek. “That’s why you’re my favourite, Holtzy.”
“Timo also threatened me,” he added, a small smile tugging on his lips when he saw you roll your eyes and turn back around. “He can be scary, even when he’s across the country.”
“Nico should’ve sent him somewhere further,” you sighed, shaking your head before turning your attention back to the dresses on the rack. “Speaking of, I thought Nico put you in charge of checking up on Peter.”
“Jack and Luke wanted to take over,” Alex shrugged. “They wanted to make sure he was actually okay.”
You pressed your lips together in a frown. “Is that even safe? Both of them to be seen with Peter?”
“You think someone from Toronto is lurking in a bush outside the bakery, just waiting to see the three of them together?” Alex deadpanned, unphased by the look you gave him. He had been on the receiving end far too many times. “They’ll be fine. Nico wouldn’t have allowed it if it was unsafe.”
“Nico is also completely distracted by the fact Trouba supposedly wanted to meet to talk about some alliance or something,” you snorted.
“How do you know these things?” Alex questioned, his head tilted in curiosity.
“I have my ways,” you grinned knowingly. “And I have my ways of knowing if you repeat any of this to anyone. Especially Curtis. He is such a gossip.”
Alex paused before nodding. “Yeah no, that is fair. You think he will take Trouba up on the offer?”
“If the incentive is right.”
“That was frustratingly vague.”
“I know.”
“Well, distracted or not, Nico would never let anything bad happen to Jack and Luke, or Peter by extension,” Alex said, sounding so sure of himself. “He has worked hard to keep Peter’s presence in Jersey under wraps. He wouldn’t let Jack or Luke ruin that, not when they were the ones who asked for it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you hummed, waving him off. “You’re right. Blah blah blah. You done yet?”
Alex rolled his eyes. “You asked.”
“Yeah but I was hoping you’d agree with me it was unsafe so we had an excuse to visit after this,” you retorted, flashing him an innocent smile over your shoulder. “Wanna split an apple pie?”
Alex sighed but he agreed.
…
Just like you assumed, the next two weeks passed without a hitch or whisper of another attack.
After Nico practically threatened to make Timo your round-the-clock bodyguard, you got the proper rest and care needed for your wound to mostly heal. You were still a little tender—and banned from your and Dawson’s weekly yoga sessions—but you felt close to your normal self, able to join some of the others on the less physical jobs, like visiting the factories and handling negotiations.
Unfortunately for you, it was week three when disaster struck again.
“I’m surprised Nico even let you step foot into this place,” you teased as you closed the car door behind you, finding the boy already rolling his eyes at you.
“Sometimes a pretty boy has to do some dirty work too,” Jack replied, grinning boyishly as he looped his arm with yours before walking towards the warehouse.
“Your ego truly astounds me,” you commented.
“Says you,” he retorted, laughing as he tried to ignore your heel jabbing into his toes.
It was a routine check-up, something that wasn’t meant to take longer than thirty minutes—forty tops, if you left Jack to do it alone and get distracted. But the shipment had just left and you needed to make sure nothing was left behind and assure no tracks were left behind. Nico preferred people close to him doing the checks.
You had been mildly surprised that he sent you and Jack together, though, you had a feeling that the whole peace treaty with the Rangers was taking over Nico’s plate.
“Everything looks good,” Jack said as he jogged back towards you, pushing some hair out of his face. “What about your side?”
“All good,” you confirmed. “Let’s head back before Timo gets there. The dick made a bet with me that he would be back from Washington before us.”
Jack paused. “Isn’t he meant to be staying the night?”
You huffed. “Please, the boy has been like a fucking helicopter parent. Unless it’s on the west coast, he doesn’t like being away for a day because apparently something will happen to me if he’s not here.”
Jack shook his head fondly but his hand rested over yours, giving it a small squeeze. “He just cares, Candy.”
You felt a flash of guilt in the pit of your stomach. “Jack—”
“Take it from a guy who lost a sibling, it isn’t fun,” he said, trying to smile and laugh through it but it fell flat.
You frowned, not giving the boy a chance to run off before you wound your arms around him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you murmured softly.
“I know,” Jack whispered, his arms wrapping around you in return. “He just wants to know you’re safe. God knows I’d freak out the same if it was Luke in your position.”
“A pair of overbearing brothers you are,” you teased, pulling back with a softer smile on your face. “You’re a good brother. And a good friend.”
Jack raised his brows. “Wow, I didn’t even have to pay you for that compliment.”
You rolled your eyes. “I meant you’re a good friend to Peter. How’s he holding up?”
“A bit shaken,” Jack confessed as you both walked back towards the car, his lips turned downwards. “The damage to the shop wasn’t too bad, mostly just replacing the windows and cleaning up. But he’s freaked out that people are on his tail.”
You hummed, nodding. “And you? How do you feel?”
Jack couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “I’m not the one that got shot.”
“Yeah but,” you paused, waving your hand around. “If Peter is freaked out—”
“Anything freaks him out,” Jack mused. “It was just a normal, run of the mill, everyday kind of event that happens when you’re in the mob. There’s nothing or no reason to believe it was anything but a fluke—”
BOOM!
You felt Jack’s body covering yours before you even realised you were on the ground. You managed to peek over Jack’s shoulder, your eyes widening at the sight of the warehouse—the same one you were inside mere minutes ago—bursting into flames that were growing and spreading and burning wildly.
“Okay, I take it back,” Jack muttered, his eyes glued on the burning building. “Not a fluke. Definitely targeted. We are fucked.”
You swallowed. “Dibs on not calling Nico.”
…
“I knew it.”
You rolled your eyes at the cock-sureness in your brother’s voice.
“This is serious,” Nico spoke up, shooting Timo a look before he went on a rant—again. “That’s two attacks in three weeks. And we have no fucking idea who’s behind them. Or if they are even linked at all.”
“It’s hard when we have a plethora of enemies,” Jesper deadpanned, raising his hands in mock surrender when Nico shot him a look. “Just saying.”
“Stop reminding me,” Nico grumbled.
“Guess we can cross the Rangers off our list though, right, Boss?” You teased, wiggling your brows despite the glare you were receiving.
“Candy,” Nico sighed. “Your brother is right. I think it’s best to have a bodyguard around, just for the next few weeks until we work things out.”
“Yeah because a bodyguard is sure gonna help when the building blows up, this time with us in it,” you deadpanned.
“I’d be more observant than Jack,” Timo commented.
“Hey!” Jack frowned.
“Absolutely fucking not,” you quickly stood up, shaking your head. “You’re not going to be my bodyguard. I’m not having you hovering over me twenty-four-seven. You’re bad enough as it is.”
Timo clenched his jaw. “Yes, I am—”
“No. She’s right. You’re not,” Nico spoke up, quickly interrupting you both. “But you are getting a bodyguard. Just to take precautions until we confirm whether you’re a target or if you just happened to be at the targeted places by chance. Maybe having another pair of eyes around you, someone who’s vigilant, will be insightful.”
“I’m not five, Nico, I can take care of myself,” you insisted, your arms crossed over your chest. “A babysitter isn’t going to do anything other than be a nuisance.”
“The bodyguard,” Nico corrected with a pointed look. “Is necessary and will not be negotiated.”
“This is ridiculous,” you said to him.
“And he’s going to be with you around the clock, always by your side,” Nico said.
Your nose scrunched up. “No.”
“Every shopping trip, every little run into town,” Nico continued.
You could feel your skin prickling. “Nico—
“And I’m moving him into your room to sleep, armed and ready just in case,” Nico insisted.
This time it was Timo who stepped in. “Woah, wait a second—”
“And I know the perfect guy,” Nico grinned. “Marino will be your bodyguard.”
It was like a switch flipped in your head, your irritance and fight disappearing as you grinned at him. “Okay.”
“I—” Timo narrowed his eyes at you. “Why are you suddenly okay with this?”
“Because I know how to listen to my boss, Timmy, you should try it some time,” you grinned at your brother, patting his shoulder before you sauntered out of the office.
“Stop calling me that,” Timo groaned as he followed you out.
Jesper waited a few moments before your voices were clearly down the hall. “You did that just to stir some drama, didn’t you?”
“Yup,” Nico answered quite happily.
“Thank god, everyone was sick of the pining puppy dog eyes,” Jack grumbled from the spot on Nico’s desk he was sitting on.
…
You had known John Marino for as long as you had been with the Devils.
He was quieter than the rest, happy to linger in the corners of the room and observe everyone. It makes sense why Nico had chosen him as the role of your bodyguard, it was John’s nature to notice things most people missed. But, ultimately, it confused the fuck out of you.
Because for as long as you had known John, you were also certain the boy didn’t like you.
You could count on one hand the amount of conversations you shared with the boy, and even those conversations lasted thirty seconds at most. And for a majority of those thirty seconds, it was you talking and him saying three words in response, if even that.
You had eventually accepted the fact that some personalities just clashed, that maybe you were too loud or too energetic or too extroverted for John’s liking. You tried to tell yourself you were okay with it because, at the end of the day, he was still polite and curt with you.
But you would be lying if you said a small part of you wasn’t offended that you were nothing more than a glorified acquaintance with John Marino.
So really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone that you were going to use the next few weeks with him to get him to like you. Or figure out what the hell his deal was.
“You think John hates you?” Dawson repeated, like that was the detail he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around in your whole plan.
“Hate is a strong word,” you said in response. “I’m simply going to get him to come out of his shell a little. With me specifically.”
“Not the kinda coming he wants to do with you,” Dawson muttered under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!” Dawson quickly cleared his throat. He turned his gaze back towards the corridor the two of you were currently walking down. “How do you plan to get him out of his shell?”
“I don’t need a strategy to make friends,” you mused, grinning a little when the boy rolled his eyes in response. “My plan is to not have a plan. I am sure with the time spent together, he will eventually open up.”
“That still sounds like a strategy,” Dawson commented but you didn’t get the chance to reply, the door to Nico’s office swinging open and a beaming Nico taking the focus of your attention instead.
“Candy, brilliant, you’re here!”
You blinked. “Yes, you asked me to be. You literally sent me a text ten minutes ago—”
“Anyways!” Nico spun around, still grinning a concerning amount as he wandered back into the office, a few of the other boys already inside. “I don’t like the idea of waiting around for another attack to get answers.”
Jesper raised his brows. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I want both attacks investigated separately so we can see if there are any dots joining,” Nico stated simply, leaning against his desk. “Bratter, you and Jack are on warehouse duty. I want to know everyone who stepped foot in that place in the last month.”
“Bit hard to do when the cameras blew up with the building but sure,” Jack grumbled.
“Candy,” Nico’s eyes shifted to you. “You and John will be on the bakery.”
“Is it really a good idea to send her back to the bakery?” Timo interrupted, stepping forward.
“I’m not ignoring it for the rest of my life because of one attack,” you told him. “Me and Johnny can handle it.”
“Johnny?” Timo repeated incredulously before spinning around to find John, who was standing near the back of the room with a blank expression on his face. “Since when were you Johnny?”
John only shrugged in response.
Timo’s eyes narrowed.
“As I was saying,” Nico spoke up again. “This is how we are doing it.”
“What about the rest of us?” Timo asked.
“You have other jobs to do,” Nico said simply. “I am not putting our lives on hold over a few attacks. We continue everything else like normal. I don’t want it to get out that we are concerned over these attacks, they will make us look weak.”
Jonas’ lips twitched upwards. “And god forbid you look weak before you have the chance to woo the Rangers—”
Nico had elbowed him in the gut before he managed to finish that sentence.
…
“You’re staring.”
You blinked, wondering for a few moments if you had imagined the boy speaking. The two of you had been sitting in your room for the better part of the last two hours, combing through the security footage from the bakery that Peter had sent you.
And in that time, John had said two words, a simple ‘on it’ when you sent him half of the security footage to watch over.
Somewhere in that time, you found yourself sitting against your headboard, watching the boy sitting at your desk with narrowed eyes like you would somehow be able to figure him out through observation.
Clearly, that didn’t work very well.
“Staring is considered a compliment,” you replied, watching the way his lips twitched upwards. You waited for him to turn around and go back to the footage, but you were surprised when he leaned back in his seat to look at you.
“And are you?” He questioned, watching your head tilt in confusion. “Complimenting me?”
“No,” you shook your head. “I’m wondering why you’re here.”
John raised his brows. “You are aware you were shot a few weeks ago, right?”
“Yes but you didn’t have to say yes to Nico,” you pointed out.
John stared back at you for a few moments before he spoke. “I wanted to, Candy.”
He didn’t give you the chance to reply before he turned back around, his focus returning to the hours of security footage he had been watching minutes before.
…
It took a little over three days to watch all the footage from the bakery’s security cameras just for it to come up with no leads. The warehouse was no better, with no real evidence or clues on who set up the attack.
Nico was trying to keep a brave face and pretend like it wasn’t that big of a deal but you could see that it was unsettling him. Someone clearly had a target on the Devils’ back and the reason was unclear, which made it ten times harder to anticipate what the next move would be. And with the deal with the Rangers coming up, the last thing any of you needed was a weakness to be exposed.
“We will figure it out,” Nico kept saying whenever it was questioned by some of the other members, the ones not as privy to the inner circle talks in his study late at night. “We will be fine.”
You were pretty sure he was trying to convince himself of that fact too.
“We need to do something,” you said around a week after the investigation into the attacks began, lying on your bed with your head hanging over the edge. “How the fuck have we not found anything?”
“Because whoever is behind it is good at covering their tracks?” Jack suggested from his spot beside you on the bed.
“Or because we are trying to catch them with little to no evidence,” John added, standing by the door of your room with his hands obediently behind his back. “You know, since everything was either burned or destroyed or has a million bullet holes in it.”
“Will you sit down? You’re stressing me out,” you muttered to him.
“No,” John stated simply.
Jack snorted. “He is jealous I took the bed.”
“I am not.”
Jack shot you a knowing look. “He totally is.”
“There has to be something else,” you sighed, your eyes fixed on the massive pile of clothes you had thrown over the back of your desk chair. John had wrinkled his nose at all the sequins and glitter, a look which soured when you suggested he add some colour to his outfits. The constant all black was starting to make you feel angsty.
“We’ve tried everything, bar kidnapping random people off the street and interrogating them,” John retorted.
“My plan was way more nuanced than that,” Jack insisted. “Stop making it sound dumb.”
“He can’t make it sound dumb if it is dumb,” you pointed out.
John’s lips twitched upwards.
Jack scoffed. “Since when did you two agree with each other?”
“Since you became an easy target,” you retorted, hissing when the boy reached over to pinch your arm. “Ouch, asshole.”
“It was deserved,” Jack insisted.
You turned your head to look at John. “I thought my bodyguard was meant to protect me.”
“Because Jack and his noodle arms are such a big threat,” John deadpanned.
Jack quickly sat up in bed. “Woah, now wait a second—”
“It would take more than a second to fix your noodle arms.”
Jack narrowed his eyes at the boy. “I do not know why Luke likes you so much.”
John shrugged in response.
“Is Peter’s shop still under renovation?” You questioned, interrupting whatever weird staring contest the two of them were doing. The mention of his friend was enough for Jack to tear his eyes away from John to focus on you instead.
“What? Yeah, they are,” he nodded with his lips turned down. “Why?”
“Good,” was the only response you gave, quickly swinging your legs over the side of the bed as you sat up. Both boys looked at you with confused expressions, watching as you hooked the straps of your heels on one finger and reached for one of your coats with the other hand.
John straightened. “What are you—”
“Hurry up, Johnny, we are leaving in five,” you stated, grinning when you noticed him let out a heavy sigh like he accepted the fact he wasn’t getting answers from you.
“What about me?” Jack called out.
“Don’t know and don’t care!”
…
Peter’s Bakery was a cute and quaint shop that didn’t stand out amongst the others on the street. It fit right in with the friendly, homely neighbourhood and was a huge hit with the locals. It was a simple place, hidden right in plain sight.
Despite the connection to the Devils, there was no reason for it to be targeted in an attack.
“Eighty percent of Peter’s customers are locals,” you told John as you walked towards the bakery, your heels clicking against the cement in a melodic pattern. It was comforting, something to hold onto as memories of the last time you were here flooded to the front of your mind.
“So?” John questioned, his eyes hidden behind the sunglasses he had slipped on before the two of you left the house. You could bet your bottom dollar that he was already analysing everything, probably had been since the second the two of you got out of the car.
“Ten percent are people from surrounding areas and the remaining ten are tourists from states excluding the ones in the immediate surrounding area,” you continued. “And the chances of the attacker being a local is slim to none so—”
“You think the person behind all this visited the bakery before the attack?” John finished for you.
“Bingo, Johnny,” you grinned at the boy, watching as he simply pressed his lips together.
“And you think he is just going to remember every customer he interacted with?” John asked, the judgement clear from his voice. “We already combed through the CCTV footage, we know there was nothing weird—”
“That was on camera,” you pointed out. “They could have given a different vibe in person.”
“A different vibe?” John repeated in a dubious tone.
“I don’t see you jumping with any better ideas,” you retorted as the boy just sighed in response. “Cheer up, Johnny, the ever present frown is going to give you wrinkles.”
John didn’t get the chance to even try and respond before you were pushing the door to the bakery open. Despite the damage to the shop, the bell above the door remained intact and dinged as the two of you walked in. It was a mess, with cans of paints and planks of wood and tools sprawled over the place, but the vague smell of cookies still somehow lingered in the air.
“Sorry, we are closed for—oh,” Peter poked his head out from the back of the store, his lips twisting into a smile when he saw you. “Candy, I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
“We just had a few questions for Jersey’s favourite baker,” you smiled innocently.
“We?” Peter repeated, his eyes glancing past your shoulder like he was noticing John for the first time. A look passed over his face before he cleared his throat. “Marino.”
“Perry.”
“It’s Peter.”
“Whoops.”
“Play nice,” you pouted, lightly elbowing John’s side before turning your smiling face back to Peter. “Excuse him, he gets pissy if he misses his afternoon nap.”
John’s jaw clenched as Peter laughed.
“Come on in,” Peter smiled back. “I’m all yours for the next hour before the builders come back from their lunch break.”
“How convenient,” John murmured under his breath, lifting his hands in mock surrender as you shot him a look before the both of you followed him into the back of the store.
…
“So, that was useless.”
“No surprise there.”
Your eyes narrowed into a glare, your mood only souring further when you found the boy wasn’t even looking back at you. His gaze seemed to be glued ahead, his jaw still clenched like it had been the whole time you had been in the bakery.
“What is your problem?” You asked, wrapping your coat further around your body as the wind began to pick up. “You have been in an awful mood since we arrived.”
“I’ve been completely normal,” John answered. Those stupid sunglasses on his face were starting to piss you off.
“You have not,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You were fine joking around with Jack back in the house but the second we left, you were in a downright horrible mood—hey!”
“Keep your voice down,” John grumbled, his hand now locked around your arm as he tugged you closer to his side.
You let out a snort of laughter. “You’re funny if you think—”
“Someone has been following us since we left the bakery,” John said, his voice low and barely a muscle on his face moving as he spoke. “Lower your voice and follow me.”
And for once, you listened.
There was a growing temptation to look back. To just take a peek over your shoulder and see the face of the person who was following you, to try and get an idea of who it was. There was no coincidence that the two of you were being followed the second you left the bakery, the same goddamn place you were first attacked.
You wondered if it was the same person. You wonder if they were the one that shot the gun that hit you. You wondered if—
“You’re spiralling,” John’s voice cut through your thoughts.
“Am not,” you retorted, but it sounded weak to your own ears.
“Lie better,” John insisted, his hand tightening around your arm as he spoke.
It was like you could hear the footsteps behind you now, like they were loud and clear the second John had pointed them out to you. When you sped up, so did they. When you slowed down, so did they. They were matching your moves and following the two of you and the car was too far away and you couldn’t call for backup without alerting the person and—
“Shhhh, breathe for me.”
You blinked before you even realised what was happening. Torn out of your own spiralling thoughts, you found yourself pressed against a wall, the cold bricks jabbing into your back but the comfort was the least of your problems. John was pressed up against you, not an inch of you exposed to the rest of the world as he kept you pinned between him and the wall.
You lifted your head to watch his side profile, watch the way he kept his eyes on the entryway to the alley he had pulled you down before you even realised what was happening. You watched the way his cheeks flushed pink, probably from the nipping weather (though it was hard to care about that when he was like a furnace against you). You watched the way he looked so focused, so in his element.
It was hard to doubt Nico’s choice when you were seeing John do just what he did best.
“I think it’s all clear,” he eventually said, breaking the silence that had been lingering since he dragged you into the alley.
You swallowed harshly. “You sure?”
“Have I given you any reason to doubt I wouldn’t take your safety seriously?” John asked, turning his head so he was finally looking at you. You watched him closely, watched the way his eyes darted over your face and lingered on your lips for a moment too long before returning to your eyes.
“No,” you replied honestly.
“Then there’s your answer,” he murmured, lingering for a few moments before he took a step back. “Let’s go back to the house.”
You tried not to think about how cold you were the second he stepped away.
…
Things were starting to heat up with the Rangers deal.
Which, considering the faces of everyone in Nico’s study at that current moment, was incredibly fucking shocking.
“You’re actually going through with it?” Jesper was the one to speak first, staring at Nico with wide eyes. “I thought we were just entertaining them to see what they want.”
“Yes, and I listened and I agreed to it,” Nico said as he leaned back in his chair. “So we are going forth with the deal.”
“We have been fighting them for years,” Jack piped in, his brows furrowed together like he was trying to piece together a deal he didn’t even know the terms of fully. You weren’t even sure Nico knew the details of the deal yet.
“Exactly,” Nico nodded. “And look how much we have lost, both of us. It’s time to turn a new leaf.”
Jack flinched.
You pressed a hand between the blades of his shoulders, leaving it there until you could feel the boy slowly start to relax under your touch.
“This isn’t sustainable for either of us,” Nico continued, though it was softer this time. “We need to start thinking about what’s best for the Devils.”
“And buddying up with the Rangers is the solution?” Jonas asked, no judgement in his voice (yet). Just curiosity.
“Not just with them,” Nico admitted. “I want to start solidifying our relationships.”
And it was that exact reason that Nico decided to send you to Pittsburgh.
The members of the Steel City mob were not ones the Devils knew well, nor did they have much of a history with. It was good, in the sense that there was no awkward bad blood to get over (read: like the current Rangers deal Nico was trying to pull). But it also meant there was no reason for either group to want a relationship.
Not unless you were Nico Hischier and Sidney Crosby, suddenly interested in creating an alliance that would somehow benefit both groups involved.
It was weird travelling with John. Usually when Nico sent you on missions like this, you were alone. On the off chance you needed back up, it would be Timo or Dawson or Jack by your side. It should have felt unsettling to have John, but it was comforting.
It was comforting to know he had your back, that you didn’t have to spend the whole trip looking over your shoulder.
And it was better than when one of the others were with you. John let you take control, let you do the talking, let you sit across from Sidney and say what you wanted without trying to cut in or take over the conversation.
It was comforting but also such a mindfuck to know this was all from the same boy who practically avoided you until a few weeks ago.
Where was this John before?
All in all, the meeting went well. There was still a lot to discuss, to negotiate, to consider. But it was the start to an alliance between the Devils and the Penguins, a welcome and positive start. And that was more than enough for an overnight trip. Sidney had even been kind enough to offer a place in one of the countless establishments owned by the Penguins.
“Two rooms?” He said like it was a nicety, rather than a fact he already knew.
“One,” John corrected, his face remaining blank as he spoke. But there was a hint of ‘no further argument’ in his voice.
Sidney’s lips twitched upwards. “One it is, then.”
…
The hotel room was nice. More than nice, if you were being completely honest.
It felt far too fancy for a single night’s stay but you assumed the Penguins were wanting to keep the good relationship going, to show they were serious, to show how well they could treat those they shared a good alliance with. It felt more like a studio apartment than a hotel room.
And despite it all, there was only one bed.
It had taken around thirty minutes of arguing before John accepted that the bed was large enough for you both to share for the night. He had been insistent he could use the couch by the window, that it was big and comfy enough for him.
It made you want to scream.
You didn’t get it. You really didn’t fucking get it.
If someone had asked you a few months ago, you would have bet your life on the fact that John didn’t like you. He was clearly quite quiet and reserved, preferring to keep to himself. You would have assumed the reasons he stayed away from you were just that—that you were too loud, too out there, too flashy.
And then he became your bodyguard. And there were these moments where you thought you were seeing a different John, a John that you could get along with. A John that would maybe even be able to handle how loud and out there and flashy you were.
Until moments like this, moments where it felt like he would rather be anywhere but beside you. Where it felt like he was here out of obligation because of Nico’s orders.
“Why do you hate me?”
It had been over an hour since the two of you turned the lights off and settled down for the night. If you were being honest, you assumed he had fallen asleep a while ago but it still hadn’t stopped you from blurting the question out into the dark room, to get it off your chest before you felt like you would explode.
You hadn’t expected to feel him tense up beside you. You hadn’t expected him to still be awake.
“What?”
You remained silent.
You could hear shuffling from his side of the bed. You wondered if he was turning to face you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look.
“Candy,” John said, his voice heavy with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “What makes you think I hate you?”
“Because what else am I to think?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke. “You ignored me before this, before Nico told you to watch over me. You barely said three words to me in the years I have been here and—”
You cut yourself off. The silence remained for a few minutes and you wondered if he had genuinely fallen asleep in that time. You still couldn’t bring yourself to look.
“I don’t hate you,” John whispered. “I never did.”
You let out a shaky breath.
“You were just so…you,” John confessed. “It was intimidating. I guess I didn’t think I was interesting enough.”
You frowned. “What?”
“I never said my reason made sense,” John retorted and you couldn’t help but snort a little. “I promise that I never hated you, Candy. Nobody could hate you.”
You swallowed. “And I’m meant to believe that?”
“I would never lie to you,” John said confidently. “Never have and never will.”
“Okay,” you whispered as you reached your hand back. It took a few seconds of patting the space between you both before you found his hand and gave it a small squeeze. “I don’t hate you either.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“Goodnight, Johnny.”
“Goodnight, Candy.”
…
“We think we have found a link between the attacks.”
“We?”
“Apologies,” Nico corrected, letting out a sigh as Jesper glared at the side of his head. “Jesper thinks he has found a link.”
“It’s a guess,” Jesper admitted after a few moments as the lot of you surrounded the map that was currently sprawled out over the length of Nico’s desk. “But it’s better than nothing.”
“What makes you think they will even attack again?” Jonas questioned as he glanced between the circled locations with a frown.
“We don’t,” Nico answered.
“Well, we can assume they will try again considering none of the other attacks ended with what they wanted,” Jack spoke up, catching your eye as he sheepishly shrugged. “Sorry, Candy.”
Timo’s frown deepened.
“Each of these locations would fit their agenda,” Jesper said as he rapped his knuckles against the map before frowning. “If we have guessed their agenda correctly.”
“You will have,” you assured, squeezing the blond’s shoulder with a smile. “Good job, Bratter.”
“We are going to have these locations on a constant patrol for the next week,” Nico said, frowning down at the map like he was already organising the patrol schedule in his head (even though Jonas would be the one to have a printed and laminated version on the notice board in the foyer by that very evening). “We are due another attack soon, if these people are sticking to a schedule.”
“Dibs the club by the Italian place,” you spoke up, flashing Jack a grin where he let out an exaggerated groan. “Their garlic bread would be the perfect stakeout snack.”
Nico opened his mouth but Timo was already talking before he had the chance to say anything.
“What makes you think you’re a part of this?” Timo asked with a frown.
You raised your brows. “Maybe the fact I am in this room right now.”
“No,” Timo shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re not getting involved in this.”
“Timo—”
“You are one of their targets,” Timo gritted out between clenched teeth. “It would be fucking stupid to put you on patrol. We may as well hand you over on a silver platter.”
“You’re being dramatic,” you said. “I’ll be with John—”
“No, I am being realistic,” Timo corrected. “You’re staying behind. End of discussion.”
You could feel your temper starting to rise, feeling that itch under your skin that was biting to fight back. “What? You suddenly don’t trust John?”
“No, I don’t trust you,” Timo retorted, the muscles in his jaw clenching. “You’re a liability, Candy.”
You froze for a moment before scoffing. “Wow. Wow.”
To his credit, Timo did look apologetic the second the words settled in the room. “Candy, I didn’t—”
“What? You didn’t mean it?” You let out a humourless laugh, shaking your head. “No, you meant it, Timo. You meant it just like you meant it in San Jose and look where that got us.”
A look of hurt flashed across your brother’s face. “That’s not fair—”
“Whatever,” you gritted out, stepping back when he tried to reach you and turning on your heel before anyone else had the chance to say anything. You turned and walked towards the door and kept walking, blood roaring in your ears and tears welling in your eyes with every step.
…
“Got room for one more?”
John didn’t wait for your response as he settled down on the spot beside you. He glanced around, letting out a hum of amusement as he took in the full brunt of your wardrobe. It had been its own room at one point, before you had taken it over and connected it to your bedroom. Now, it was full of rails and shelves bursting with clothes and shoes in so many colours that John was surprised his head didn’t hurt the second he walked in.
He leaned back against one of the set of drawers, laughing a little when he felt a couple of feathers brushing against the back of his neck. “Do you actually wear feather boas?”
Your lips twitched upwards. “I got them when Luke and Curtis bet fifty bucks that I didn’t have them ‘in my collection’.”
John smiled a little. “So you have them to help Luke in a bet?”
You shot him a look. “Don’t be silly, I was helping Curtis win the bet.”
John did laugh this time, a proper laugh that caught you by surprise. Not that he seemed put off by the way you were blatantly staring at him. Instead, he nudged his shoulder against yours and just smiled.
Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned your head against his shoulder.
“Do you want to talk about it?” John asked in a soft voice.
“I just…” You trailed off, trying to find the words to describe everything racing on inside your head. “I was just so pissed off and he wasn’t listening to me and I…I knew it would hurt. I wanted it to hurt.” You paused. “Does that make me a bad person?”
“Maybe,” John whispered. “But I don’t think he was a great person at that moment either.”
“I know the San Jose stuff upsets him,” you whispered, pressing your cheek further into the fabric of his shirt until his cologne and the vague scent of fabric softener was the only thing you could focus on. “He regrets it every day. He regrets that he left me behind that day, that he thought I was too much of a liability to go away with him.”
John pressed his cheek against the top of your head. “What happened in San Jose wasn’t your fault or his. It was them. It was the Sharks and their twisted morals over there and—”
“I’m his sister and I almost died because of a decision he made,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you spoke. “He will always blame himself, even if no one else thinks it. Even if he is the reason I’m alive now and we got out of there.”
John didn’t say anything.
“Just like I will always blame myself for trusting them blindly,” you muttered, swallowing the words that felt like they were stuck in the back of your throat. “I forgot the basic rules of this life. I forgot then and I forgot when I was at Peter’s when the attack happened and—”
“Candy,” John murmured, his arm winding around your body and pulling you further into his side. “It wasn’t your fault.”
You pressed your face further into him, your tears beginning to soak the shirt he was wearing but he didn’t care.
“You’re a force to be reckoned with, Candy,” John continued, his lips pressed against the top of your head as he left a lingering kiss. “None of it was your fault.”
You stayed silent.
“And you’re not a bad person. You’re allowed to get angry and upset. You’re allowed to lash out.” John pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Your brother loves you and nothing will ever change that.”
John held you in his arms as the two of you sat on the floor of your wardrobe. He held you as you cried and cried until you couldn’t anymore. He held you until keeping your eyes open was too much. And then he carried you to bed, taking his spot in your room and letting the silence settle over the room until the next morning.
The apology from Timo didn’t really come in the form of words, maybe because you and your brother both knew that more than words were needed. It was at the next Devils Sunday dinner. He didn’t say anything as he placed a box on your plate (a box you recognised with the logo of Peter’s Bakery) and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
“We will never let them win,” he murmured, the same words he whispered that fateful night in San Jose before the two of you escaped.
“Never,” you whispered back.
Timo just smiled, soft and genuine and just as forgiving as it was apologetic, before he settled down in his spot at the table.
He didn’t even say anything about John’s arm wrapped around the back of your chair for the duration of the whole dinner.
…
The days passed and still no attack came.
The deal with the Rangers was becoming more serious. Not that you doubted Nico’s word at all. It was just…rivalry against the Rangers was all you had known. You heard whispers about them when you were on the west coast. You saw the extent of their violence when you and Timo fled to New Jersey.
It was hard to imagine a life where that violence wasn’t instigated, wasn’t retaliated against, wasn’t sought out.
“It will work.”
You raised your brows, watching the way Nico was nodding to himself as he glanced over the papers in front of him. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
Jack snorted. “More like Jesper. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”
“He doesn’t trust them,” Nico corrected.
“And, to be fair, they have given us no reason to trust them,” you added.
“Just as much as they should trust us,” John deadpanned, once again refusing to sit down as he stood left to your chair.
“They need it as much as we do,” Nico pointed out.
“What stock could they possibly need from us?” You questioned, watching the way the boy paused before clearing his throat. Your eyes narrowed at your boss, like it would be enough to see the thoughts whirling around in his head. “Nico, what did you agree to?”
Nico let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “A marriage.”
Jack blinked.
“A marriage?” You repeated, hissing. “Are you crazy? You want to join us to them forever like that?”
“It’s an alliance, Candy,” Nico stated simply. “The idea is that it would be long lasting.”
“But a marriage, Nico,” you shook your head. “They wouldn’t just accept a random marriage, not unless Trouba thought he could find a way to get into the top circle. Who did you offer up?”
“Why? You offering yourself?” Jack asked, his lips twitching upwards.
But the joke fell flat when John stepped forward, stepped closer to you. “No. She’s not.”
Your eyes widened a little at the biting tone in his voice. “Hey—”
“You are not marrying any of them,” John gritted out through clenched teeth. “I refuse.”
“You refuse?” You repeated, your head tilting as you turned to look at the boy in disbelief. “Pretty sure it’s my decision, Johnny.”
“Yeah, Johnny,” Jack said, his eyes glittering in amusement. Not that you could see it, with your focus now turned to the other boy. But John could see it. He could see it and could see the way Jack was actively holding back his laughter. “If Candy wants to marry one of Trouba’s men, then who are we to stop her?”
John’s jaw clenched, an emotion you couldn’t quite read shining in his eyes. “No.”
Nico sighed deeply.
Jack snorted. “You’re not even being subtle about it, bud.”
You whirled around. “Subtle about what?”
Jack simply lifted his hands in mock surrender.
You turned back to look at John, a mix of emotions flooding through you when he failed to meet your eyes. “I thought you never lied to me.”
“I’m not lying,” John said, his eyes locked on Jack, who was beaming in response.
“No, he’s just omitting to tell the truth,” Jack retorted.
“Jack,” Nico said in a warning voice.
“Oh, come on,” Jack whined, turning to pout at the older boy. “We all know John is just—”
“Enough,” Nico interrupted, shaking his head. “Go to Peter’s.”
Jack frowned. “What?”
“I’m telling you right now to go stake out at Peter’s tonight,” Nico said—or, more accurately, commanded. “I want you to stick to the post for the rest of the night.”
Jack opened his mouth to argue but noted the glare Nico was sending him and—smartly—decided to keep his mouth shut. He glanced between you and John, muttering something under his breath before he jumped off his spot on the desk and made his way towards the door.
“And just to be clear,” Nico spoke up before Jack could leave the room. “Candy is not the one marrying a Ranger. None of you are.”
John’s brows furrowed together. “So who is?”
“Me.”
…
You hadn’t said a word to John since the two of you left Nico’s study.
It was one thing to make a deal with the Rangers. It was another for that deal to include an arranged marriage, something that seemed so archaic and old-fashioned for Nico’s taste. But for Nico himself to be involved? To tie himself to the Rangers in such a way?
It was fucking mind-blowing.
You could only imagine the kind of girl the Rangers would offer to play the part of Nico Hischier’s wife.
But despite the revelation, your mind was reeling for a very different reason. And said reason happened to be just behind you, dressed in all black (no surprise there) and looking like a damn kicked puppy at the silent treatment you had been giving him.
John watched you with careful eyes as you swung the door to your bedroom open, barely acknowledging the small ‘ooft’ he let out when the rebound of the door almost hit him in the face.
“Candy–” John started the second the door clicked shut behind him.
But you barely gave him the chance to continue, already spinning around on your heel to glare at him. “Do not even try it.”
“I meant what I said when I told you I would never lie to you,” John said, staying rooted in his spot even though his stomach twisted at the hurt written across your face. “I have never lied to you. I swear on my life.”
You watched him for a few moments, a muscle in your jaw ticking before you asked him something that completely caught him off guard.
“Why did you take this job?”
John blinked. “What?”
“Why did you take this job?” You repeated, keeping your eyes locked on him as you took a step closer.
“You know why,” John said, swallowing harshly. “You were a target and Nico appointed me as your bodyguard—”
“That’s not the only reason,” you said bluntly. “There is more to it. You know it. Jack knows it. Hell, everyone but me seems to know it. So what is the reason?”
John let out a breath. “I can’t tell you.”
You took another step towards him, eyes narrowed in determination. “Can’t or won’t?”
John could feel his chest tightening. “Candy, please.”
“You may not have been lying before but you weren’t telling me the truth,” you questioned, pausing when you were right in front of him. “Why did you take this job?”
John shook his head.
“John,” you rasped. “Tell me.”
He kept shaking his head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it will change nothing!” John frowned a little, clearing his throat as he lowered his voice. “Because I can’t do anything about it.”
You blinked, confused. “What?”
“Can we please just drop this?” John whispered, his voice cracking a little.
“No,” you shook your head, determined. “What won’t it change?”
John pressed his lips together.
You sighed. “Johnny—”
“Us,” John finally muttered out. “It won’t change us. It won’t change how I feel about you. It won’t change the fact that you’re you and you’re Timo’s sister and I shouldn’t want you but I really fucking do and—”
“Kiss me.”
John blinked, stuttering over his choked breath. “Candy, you don’t mean that.”
“Did I stutter?” You retorted.
“We can’t,” John tried again, but you could see his resolve crumbling. You could see the way his eyes dropped to your lips, the way they lingered on your mouth.
“Says who?” You asked, watching as the boy failed to find a response. “Kiss me, Johnny.”
John waited one, two, three seconds before he surged forward, before his hands cupped your face and his lips were pressed against yours with a passion you had never experienced before. You barely had a chance to grip his shirt before he was tugging you closer, before he was tilting his head and deepening the kiss and moaning against your lips like it was the hottest thing he had ever done in his life.
In some ways, it was.
Years of fantasies and feelings and thoughts and dreams lead to this moment. Years of John keeping his feelings hidden, keeping them locked away, thinking he never stood a chance. Years of him hopelessly pining and wanting and wishing. Years of just loving you just how you were.
His fingers entangled themselves in your hair, tilting your head to match his pace as his other hand slid down to wind around your waist and pull you closer. He heard the little gasp you let out, felt the way you fisted the fabric of his shirt, listened to the little breathless ‘Johnny’ you sighed against his lips.
He felt feral.
He hadn’t even noticed you slowly leading him deeper into the room, step by step, until your knees hit the back of the bed and you were dragging him down with you. Only then did the last few minutes seem to hit him like a freight train. He pushed up onto his elbows, chest heaving with soft pants and face flushed as he stared down at you.
“Candy—” He started but you quickly placed your finger over his lips..
“I want this. I want you. I don’t want to hear whatever noble bullshit you have been telling yourself to hold yourself back. I just want you, Johnny,” you said, breathing heavily as your eyes lingered on his kiss-swollen lips before returning to meet his gaze. “If you don’t want this, then I get that. But only if you don’t want this. Nothing to do with my brother or some bullshit sense of morality or the rest of this damn house.”
John swallowed, lifting one hand to slowly push some hair away from your face and tuck it behind your ear. You waited with a bated breath, watching as his eyes took in every single detail of you before he leaned down to kiss you—sweeter, softer than before.
“I want you more than you could ever know,” he whispered against your lips, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he spoke.
“Kiss me again,” you murmured, pushing your cheek further into his touch.
“Whatever you want, Candy,” John murmured before leaning down to kiss you again.
…
The attack happened three days later.
It was anticipated, just not on a warehouse you were expecting. The knowledge that the pattern you thought you had noticed was actually false laid heavy on all your shoulders, as the realisation of something much bigger than any of you were anticipating settled. This went beyond a few targeted attacks, this went beyond you.
This was the start of a war, and even if none of you wanted to say it out loud, you were all thinking it.
“What now?” Jack asked as you all stood around Nico’s study, staring helplessly at the map laid out on Nico’s desk.
“We prepare ourselves,” Nico said, his voice sounding heavy and tired. You didn’t even blame him. He had been keeping on a confident front, letting the others think that they had this all under control because he couldn’t spiral. He couldn’t let them all think there was a reason to panic. You could only imagine how much harder it was getting with each passing day, with each attack.
Jesper raised his brows. “So you’re breaking the deal with the Rangers?”
“No,” Nico shook his head, letting out a long sigh. It had been a recurring argument between the two of them for the last few weeks. “If this means what we think it means, it would be more beneficial to us to have the Rangers as allies.”
“Unless they are the ones behind it,” Jesper retorted.
“I’m going through with the deal and that’s final,” Nico said, raising his voice a little. It wasn’t a lot. But it was enough for everyone else in the room to fall silent. “And if you keep being pissy about it, I’ll make sure you sit next to Timo at the wedding.”
Jesper gaped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Nico’s eyes glimmered. “But I would.”
“Woah, why is that a bad thing?” Timo scoffed, looking between the two of them with a frown. “I’m a fucking delight.”
Suddenly, everyone else looked away.
Timo’s frown deepened. “What? What is everyone not telling me?”
It was at that very moment Luke walked through the door, foil packet rustling loudly as he shoved his hand in it and kicked the door closed behind him. He paused when he noted the tension in the room, glancing between everyone with pinched eyebrows.
“Damn, I didn’t know getting snacks for a team meeting was illegal.”
“Rusty!” Timo whirled around, his eyes gleaming. “Did they tell you too?”
“Tell me what?” Luke questioned before his eyes widened. “Oh shit, they told you John finally grew a pair and made a move on Candy? Huh, you’re much calmer than I—”
“JOHN DID WHAT?!”
Luke paused, his lips parting in realisation. “Oh. Whoops.”
Timo whirled around to look at you and then John, seeming to finally notice the arm the boy had wrapped around your waist. He gasped loudly, shaking his head as he placed a hand on his chest.
“And you all fucking knew? Oh god, the betrayal! It hurts! It physically hurts!”
“I am not sitting beside that at the wedding,” Jesper said, shaking his head. “Look how dramatic he is being!”
“He will mellow out by the wedding,” Nico responded, looking far too amused by the theatrics playing out in the middle of his study.
“It’s Timo. When the fuck as he ever mellowed out?” Jesper retorted with a scoff.
You turned to find John watching your older brother with a pinched expression. It would have made you snort if you couldn’t feel the way he was gripping your hips, like he was ready to put you between him and your dramatic brother.
“Welcome to the family, Johnny.”
John’s nose scrunched. “I take it all back.”
You snorted. “Too late. No returns. You’re stuck with me.”
“It’s not you I want to return,” John retorted, pulling you closer to him. “I’d do it all over again if I could be stuck with you for the rest of my life.”
“Sap,” you grinned, looking far too pleased with his admission. “Even if you have to take on my brother?”
John’s eyes softened as he turned to look at you. “Nothing could scare me away from you, baby. Nothing.”
You beamed. “Good, because you have about thirty seconds before Timo realises he has free will and a gun in his left holster.”
There was a lot that was uncertain about the future, but you were pretty damn confident that John Marino was not one of them.
tags pyotr kochetkov x reader, pure fluff, mediagirl!reader, use of y/n like twice, idk what else to put lol, unedited be warned
ib this tt
tw none
an i tried to make him sound like he actually does with the whole not knowing much english thing? gimme feedback pls
You had worked for the Carolina Hurricanes for quite some time now. Working with social media was easy, you asked questions and made them do stupid things before practice. Each guy on the time had his own opinion about you, Andrei thought you were sweet, Jarvy thought you were a good laugh. One player in particular, who goes by the name Pyotr, had a little crush on you. It wasn’t unknown, every time he saw you he would get what Seth called “goo-goo eyes”.
He was enamored, everything you did was enticing to him. When you would hangout on the bench with the medics during practice he could barely pay attention to block his teammates shots, earning a scolding from the coach. After scrolling on tiktok for a while you had jotted down some ideas to ask the boys before they went on the ice for practice.
Grabbing your work phone and the canes mini-mic, you headed out to the opening in the boards. The boys walked out one by one, answering the question you and the other girls landed on. Who was the players celebrity crush? Andrei mentioned a russian actress he had known since he was little, Martinook mentioned Megan Fox, Jarvy mentioned Brekie Hill — all relatively normal answers — until Pyotr waltzed on out with his stick in hand and his mask pulled up onto his head. “Okay, who is your celebrity crush?” You smiled kindly, holding the mini-mic towards his face so people could hear him mumbling in broken english.
“Y/n,” He responded with a smile, his brown eyes staring into yours. They were deep in a way, easy to get lost in.
The media girls beside you burst into giggles, teasing you with knowing looks. One of them nudged you playfully, “Looks like someone’s got a fan,” she teased, winking as she typed out a message to text the newest guy in her orbit. You couldn’t help but laugh, though you felt a flutter in your chest that was hard to ignore.
“Okay, that’s enough. Focus!” one of the other girls said, trying to pull your attention back to the task at hand. But your mind was still stuck on Pyotr’s words.
As the team started practice, you lingered near the boards, still processing what had just happened. You had always known Pyotr liked you, but hearing it out loud, in front of everyone, was a completely different feeling. It was clear he didn’t mind being the center of attention, and yet, there was something endearing about his sudden revelation. He wasn’t one to be openly vulnerable, but when it came to you, it seemed like he couldn’t help it. Your mind kept wandering back to his words. You had gotten used to teasing interactions and playful exchanges with all the guys, but this? This felt different. You hadn’t realized how much Pyotr had gotten under your skin until now. Every time you glanced over at him on the ice, your stomach did a little flip. You caught him looking your way more than once, a soft smile playing on his lips whenever your eyes met.
Later, after practice, you found yourself near the locker room entrance, finishing up some quick social media posts. You were just about to pack up when you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Pyotr, his helmet off and hair messy, standing a few feet away. The Canes hoodie sitting baggy on his shoulders, along with grey sweatpants that fit his figure perfectly.
“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, a slight hint of nervousness creeping in. “I... I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I... couldn’t think.”
You blinked, surprised by the shift in his tone. “Pyotr,” you started, your heart beating a little faster, “It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it”
He scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish for a moment before his smile returned, that charming grin you’d grown used to. “Well, maybe next time you let me know who your celebrity crush is?” he teased, stepping a little closer.
Your heart raced, but you couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
As he lingered for a moment, there was a pause, an unspoken connection hanging between you. Pyotr’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, his smile more genuine now, as if the playful banter was over and something a little more sincere was taking its place.
“Well,” he said, his voice a little quieter, “I’ll be waiting..”
And with that, he gave you a wink and turned to head toward the locker room, leaving you standing there, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. You couldn’t deny that the idea of Pyotr having a little crush on you, and maybe even wanting something more, was a thought you couldn't quite shake.
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