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hellvst · 2 months ago

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OFFSEASON – quinn hughes

featuring ; quinn hughes x fmc (sydney gray)

✮⋆˙ warning & content ; swearing

✮⋆˙ word count ; 4.7k

✮⋆˙ previous chapter – series masterlist – next chapter

a/n ; quinn is playing + canucks won yesterday against la? we are soo back! i kinda forgot to give simon a face claim...oops! but, i did have an idea or picture him to look similar to kevin fiala or roman josi, i just can't find a face claim for him. it's up to your imagination as well! happy reading <3

CHAPTER TWO

SYDNEY

My alarm went off multiple times within the past fifteen minutes, and kept hitting the snooze button each time it did. So much for wanting to wake up early this morning.

I fluttered my eyes open, adjusting to the natural light through the window.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the dull ache in my right leg. It wasn’t a sharp pain–more like a persistent stiffness, reminding me that no matter how much progress I made, and lots of physiotherapy sessions, I wouldn’t always feel one hundred percent.

There was no point in dwelling on it. I had a busy day ahead, and self-pity wasn’t on the agenda. Not today.

I ungracefully got out of bed–did some stretches, single-leg squats, and hopped on one foot.

Nothing some movement wouldn’t fix.

The discomfort usually disappeared once I got my body moving. Truly odd, but if it got me through the day, I was not going to complain.

I moved through my morning routine with muscle memory. A quick shower, skin care, matching black compression set, an oversized hoodie thrown on without much thought, and tied my hair into a ponytail.

By the time I made it to the kitchen, the coffee machine was already doing its magic. As I waited, I flipped the TV on in the living room out of habit as I did every morning.

The post-game analysis was still running from last night’s Canucks-Oilers’ game. I wasn’t surprised that this was the first thing that popped up on the screen, considering it’s been a while since my hometown, Vancouver, had made a playoff appearance. It was a huge deal for the city.

I caught a whiff of the last few minutes after getting home late from the studio–just in time to witness the whole debacle unfold.

My brother, Simon, and his teammate.

The miscommunication. The puck hitting the post. The loss.

A blown play that cost them a ticket to conference finals.

Now, every analyst, reporter, or fan was commenting and dissecting it.

“This was a complete breakdown,” one of the reporters began. “Simon Gray and Quinn Hughes were on totally different pages the entire game. You can’t have your best forward and your top defensemen out of sync in the most important moments–”

I turned the TV off and took a sip of my coffee, already knowing how that played out. My stomach was tightening at the sight of Simon after the buzzer went off.

Before the game, I sent him a short and simple ‘good luck!’, and haven’t heard from him since. Fair enough, given the outcome of the game.

Simon was going to be miserable for days, maybe weeks, more likely the entire summer. My brother was going to be impossible to deal with after that. And if history has taught itself, he was going to blame others for his mistakes. He always did.

I looked at the time, almost choking on my coffee, “Shit.”

I was running late for my first private session of the day, and Phoebe–one of my regular clients–was going to get there before me. Again.

If someone had asked me years ago what I saw myself doing, being a Pilates instructor wouldn’t even make the list. But life has a way of throwing you in places you’d never expect.

It started after the incident, I don’t talk about it much–there was nothing left to say. It happened. It definitely changed things. And for a very long time, I felt lost in my own body, like going through motions without purpose.

Doctors and my physiotherapist gave me exercises, stretches, and a never-ending list of things to “try”. Nothing clicked. Nothing felt right.

Until, I stepped into my first Pilates class. I remembered feeling a bit skeptical at first, convinced it was another trendy workout–the one all the girls tried out. It was the first time in a long time I felt connected to myself again.

I kept going. I got better. And then I got really good. Good enough that one day, the owner of the studio I’d been training at, pulled me aside and asked if I ever thought about teaching.

I laughed at the time, but the idea lingered that it stuck. And here I was: an instructor at Lumé Wellness–the top studio branch in Vancouver–fully booked for the summer, doing what I love.

The studio wasn’t that far from my apartment, twenty minutes tops without traffic which most days I was thankful for.

By the time I made it to the studio, sure enough, Phoebe was already inside one of the private rooms, stretching on the mat.

She raised an eyebrow at me as I put my bag down. “Would it kill you to be on time for once?” Phoebe teased, pulling her dark curls into a bun.

I rolled my eyes and started stretching beside her. “It’s five minutes.”

She shrugged and wiggled her brows, “Five minutes that I spent wondering if you were late because a guy kept you up last night.”

“Oh my God,” I groaned with a smile. “Don’t start this again, Phoebe.”

All she did was grin, absolutely delighted at the sight of my suffering. Phoebe was in her late forties, a social butterfly with too much energy for the morning slot, and too much curiosity for her own good.

Plus the fact she was newly single and thriving in the chaos of her impending divorce, loved to poke at my non-existing dating life. She was a sucker for drama, and if my love life–or lack thereof–could provide her entertainment, she’d without a doubt take it.

“Oh come on, humor me, Syd. There has to be someone,” she said, settling onto the reformer. “You’re giving off the ‘I’m seeing someone new’ glow.”

I scoffed at her. “That ‘glow’ you’re referring to is just the new overhead lighting.”

She snorted then sighed dramatically as I adjusted her stance, “You know, you should really make time for some fun.”

“I have fun.” I argued.

“Pilates and binge-watching The Office at home doesn’t count.”

She got me there.

We continued on with our session. Usually with Phoebe, time flies so fast when all she did was rant about her life–pestering me about mine–but she eventually let it go once we began the harder exercises.

I barely got a moment to breathe before moving on to my bigger group session. To my luck, this group was breeze to get through as they followed my exercises on the reformer with ease. Not to mention, the music blasting through the speakers in the studio allowed them to get into that rhythm which was helpful as well.

Just when the last song ended, the group of ladies’ chests heaved, the room was filled with breaths of exhaustion, and a few went straight for their water bottles.

“Alright, ladies! Great work today! Hope to see you in our next class.”

They all left one by one, saying ‘bye’ on their way out, until I was the only one left.

Two or three classes to teach in the mornings usually had me working around lunch.

And by then, I was starving.

My routine was pretty much the same, there was not a lot to do with an hour break. But, most days consisted of grabbing a quick meal at the nearest bistro or cafe with my closest friend. As I was about to pick up my things off the floor, my phone in my pocket buzzed.

Speak of the devil herself.

“Hey, Diane,” I answered, tucking my phone in between my ear and shoulder as I packed.

“Are we still on for lunch? I’m already at the café.”

I heard the faint lively sounds of the city of Vancouver in the background. “Yeah, I’m about to leave the studio and make my way–”

“Sydney?”

Right as I was trying to make a beeline to the doors, I turned to see Grace–the owner of the studio–peeking out her office door. My stomach dropped.

“One sec, Di.” I lowered my phone, ending the call. “Everything alright, Grace?”

“Can you step into my office for a minute?”

Fuck. This cannot be good.

I followed her inside. It was a rare sight to see any of the studio employees in Grace’s office, she usually came to talk to me after my classes, never the other way around.

She never gave off vibes that ever intimidated me. I have never seen her upset with anyone, unless they truly pushed her buttons. The word ‘nervous’ wasn’t enough to express how I was feeling right then and there.

“Have a seat,” she gestured to the empty chair across from her. I gave her a smile, but beneath that was a wave of anxiety washing over me.

I tried to figure out what I might have done wrong. Did someone complain? Did I mix up the schedules or bookings? Did Phoebe finally rat me out for showing up late most of the time? The idea of me getting fired was not on my list of things today.

Grace sat behind her desk, clasping her hands together. “I have some news for you.”

Oh God. This is it. I was getting fired.

“I know your lunch break just started, so I’ll just get straight to it.” Grace had always been forward when she spoke. “There’s an opportunity with the Vancouver Canucks. Their management reached out about a summer cross-training program. They wanted us to coordinate it.”

I blinked at her, “And…?”

“And I told them you’d do it.”

As if my eyes couldn’t get any wider than it was. I stared at her in complete and utter disbelief, waiting for some sort of punchline. “You’re joking.”

Grace smiled, “Nope.”

I would have never imagined she’d say those words. This might be worse than getting fired.

There had been a few occasions when I had worked with soccer clubs, and a few college football players for cross-training. But, I had never done a session with the professional leagues such as the NHL. This was way different.

“Grace, I’m flattered but–” I thought about my words carefully, “I have a full schedule this summer and–”

“I am aware of your busy schedule,” she said, waving a hand. “I already adjusted your schedule accordingly to accommodate for this.”

Of course she did..

I opened my mouth, then closed it. This conversation was already headed towards the direction I dreaded. “There are other instructors here that I think are more qualified–who have worked in this studio for much longer that are more deserving for this job.”

Grace raised a brow at me, “Do you think I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think you were more than qualified?”

Shit. I had that coming. I basically dug that hole myself.

I stayed silent for my own good, Grace knew she was right and she sighed.

“They want you,” she said simply.

“What? Why?”

I answered a bit too quickly, unknowingly raising my voice an octave or two. I shift in my chair, clearing my throat having just panicked in front of my boss.

“Well, given that you have a good background on hockey, I thought you were perfect for the position. Not to mention that their head coach, Rick Tocchet, had also referred to you. And if it helps, it’s not the entire team you will train with. Just two of their players.” Her lips twitched as she leaned in her seat. “One of them being your brother.”

My stomach twisted. I should have seen this from a mile away. Why didn’t I make that connection instantly right when she said ‘Vancouver Canucks’?

After all, my older brother Simon was one of the top forwards for the team.

Although, he may be my family and I would do anything for him–I wouldn’t train him or anyone on his team for that matter. Hockey was Simon’s thing, and I had my own so we stayed out of each other’s lane. And we like to keep it that way.

Plus, I wasn’t all that into men that played hockey. They weren’t my go-to type. But, I would be lying to myself if I didn't think there were some head-turners, but nothing too crazy of the sort. I have never dated a hockey guy.

I blinked, tapping out of my short trance. My brain was processing the fact that I was going to spend all summer with my brother and his teammate.

Which led me to another question for Grace.

“So, if I’m training my brother–” I said, dragging out the last word. “–who is the other?”

She took a moment before she replied, “Quinn Hughes.”

That brought me to a full stop. What?

My eyes were nothing but bloodshot, “Quinn Hughes?” There was absolutely no hiding my distraught expression, even if I tried my hardest to contain it. “That’s asking for the impossible, Grace. It would take a miracle for those two to work together.”

Shocked doesn’t even begin to cover what I was feeling.

Simon hated Quinn Hughes. I have spent the last few years listening to him ranting about how Quinn came in a year after he was drafted and ‘ruined’ everything–climbing the ranks, breaking franchise records as a defensemen, and taking the spotlight.

I never truly understood the obsession. Simon had never acted this way growing up, especially towards another teammate. Now, he’s spent years resenting Quinn, blaming him for everything that has gone wrong in his career. I have asked multiple times specifically why he hated him so much, all I got was some half-assed answer.

And I’ve never met the guy, but from what I’ve seen, he seems alright.

“Your job is to make sure they don’t kill each other,” Grace continued. “I told Rick Tocchet you’d do it. And of course, you will be paid. More importantly, the Canucks’ are willing to invest in our studio. We’re growing and this would help fund more studios to expand, Sydney.”

Wow. It would be a great deal for Lumé Wellness now that I think about it. After adding the brand new Pilates reformers and more intensive sessions, our class attendances shot through the roof. The space in our studio was limited and we were growing in numbers as waitlists were piling up.

What kind of Pilates instructor would I be if I didn’t want that for the studio?

I exhaled a sigh, “What about the media? They will be a problem–”

“We will handle it,” Grace cut me off. “After what happened last night, there’s no doubt that the press will track two of their star players’ moves throughout the summer. That’s why Rick, the Canuck’s team, and I will ensure that we will keep the training sessions on the down-low to prevent the media from talking.”

That reassured me to an extent, but I was still skeptical. This was a bad idea.

It was easy to figure out why this arrangement was set in the first place. Those two, especially my brother, needed to stop acting like children and start acting like grown adults. Play like real professional hockey players.

After the loss last night, it was only a matter of time when their team did something about it. I was surprised that it took them long enough. A few years ago, I wondered why they hadn't forced them to be stranded on an island together. Maybe surviving off an island together surely would have allowed them to work together at least.

The look in Grace’s eyes were telling me that there was no way out of this. Even if I came up with more excuses or tried to find a replacement, her (and apparently Rick Tocchet) mind was already made up.

I leaned back in my chair, my head was spinning in constant circles. “Is there any way for me to get out of this?”

“No.”

Damn. A complete shut down.

“Of course not,” I mumbled.

She gave me a knowing look, “Everything will be fine, that I can assure you, Sydney. Sessions will begin in two weeks.”

And just like that, my fate was sealed. Great.

I nodded my head as Grace dismissed me out of her office, gave her a small wave. I stepped out of the studio, took a deep breath trying to process what just happened in the last few minutes. I still couldn’t believe it.

My phone went off. Four missed calls and numerous text messages from Diane.

I called her back, and the second she picked up, she was already yelling. “Where the hell are you?”

A dull throb in my temple ached. “I got held up, I’ll be there in ten.”

“What happened?”

I sighed and began walking down the sidewalk. “You’re never going to believe me if I told you.”

The café was already packed by the time I got there, the low hum of conversation blending with the clinking of cups and the hiss of the espresso machine.

I spotted Diane almost immediately, she sat by the window, with a half-eaten bagel and small bits of crumbs on the table. She glanced up just as I approached her and instantly raised a brow.

“You’re late,” she said, pointing at me with her bagel in hand. “Again.”

“Sorry, I got held up.” I told her as I dropped into the chair across from her.

She playfully scoffed and held up her now empty cup, “Enough that I already finished one latte.” She smirked before setting it down. “Alright, spill. What was so important that you hung up on me and left me hanging here?”

“Grace.”

Diane’s eyes widened at that. She knew how rare it was for me–or anyone in the studio– to get caught up in Grace’s hair to get sent to her office. There were only good things I have told Diane about my boss over the years. Like the time she gave all the studio employees a gift certificate to the infamous spa in the north side of the city. It was generous of her, but it was quite expensive.

I took a deep breath before explaining to my friend of my new summer plans. Having to say it all out loud made me realize how real this was. It was going to happen and I wasn’t just dreaming in that office.

“Wait. I’m sorry, what?” Diane nearly choked on her coffee.

“Yep,” I popped the ‘p’, and nodded at her. “You heard me.”

For a split second, there was silence.

Her face lit up accompanied with a squeal. Oh no. Here we go.

Diane’s expression was something between shock and excitement, “Syd, are you serious? That’s freaking nuts!” Unaware of her volume, she earned the glances of other customers in the café. We were both quick to give them apologetic nods. She leaned closer across the table, her voice quieter this time, “That’s huge, Syd!”

I scoffed, “I wouldn’t call it that.”

Diane grinned, “Are you kidding? You get to train professional athletes. NHL players. Do you know how many people would kill for that opportunity?”

She was right. It’s not everyday that you get to work with athletes in the big leagues. Anyone in the studio could have easily taken this job and taken the news a lot more lightly and professionally than I did. But no, oddly enough I didn’t have any other choice or say in the decision.

I shook my head at her, slumping into my seat. “It’s not that simple.”

Diane tilted her head as if I grew another pair of eyes, “What’s not simple about that? You get to train with your brother and I don’t think that’s all too difficult, right? Shouldn’t it be easier since he is your brother?”

As much as I loved my brother, we liked keeping our lives separate from each other. He had his career, and I had mine. Not saying that I wasn’t proud of him or embarrassed that my brother was one of the hockey stars in the league. I was very proud that he achieved his dreams, why wouldn’t I be? I just liked supporting him from the sidelines.

“Me and Simon are close but–” I paused, tracing the rim of my coffee cup with my finger. “We don’t mix our careers or get involved in each other’s business. Now, I’m being thrown right into it and it just…complicates things.”

Diane watched me carefully, “Is that really a bad thing?”

I hesitated before answering her. “I’ve never really been a part of his hockey world, this was totally unexpected. Hell, I don’t even know if he knows about it. He hasn’t texted me since yesterday before the game.”

“Okay, so you’re only training your brother. Big deal. It’s not like you’re training with the whole team.” She waved a hand, acting like that was the only issue I was dealing with.

I shot her a look, I accidentally left out a big piece of information while explaining to her.

“And Quinn Hughes,” I added flatly.

Diane’s jaw dropped to the floor, “Wait–Quinn Hughes? As in, the captain of the team and the best defensemen in the league ‘Quinn Hughes’?”

As far as hockey goes for Diane, she had no interest in the sport, unless there was eye-candy on the team. When it came down to the NHL, the only names she was familiar with were the ‘good-looking’ guys, my brother, and Quinn Hughes.

I nodded, then took a quick sip of my coffee, “Apparently, my job is to make sure they don’t kill each other during the summer.”

“Wow. That’s definitely…something.”

“Exactly.” I crossed my arms. “I barely know Quinn. But, Simon? He’s been going off about the guy for years. And now I’m supposed to train them. Together? That’s a shitshow waiting to happen.”

Diane shrugged her shoulders, looking at me thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s an opportunity.”

My brow raised at that, “To do what? Watch my brother have a meltdown? Yeah, no thanks.”

“But–”

I groaned, “Diane.”

She was teasing, and she never fails to get away with it. “I’m just saying, maybe this isn’t the worst thing. You’ll be challenged. You’ll make new connections. And–” She paused. “Who knows, this might just be the most interesting thing going for you right now since the accident–nevermind, sorry.”

Ouch. That stung.

But, Diane was right. As much as I’d like to think that my life was perfect and everything was going the right places, deep down, I knew it wasn’t. Ever since I got hurt and went through months of recovering, the course of direction my life was heading towards took a hard turn.

Now, I have ended up here. But, I wasn’t not grateful as things could have been worse, very worse. Over the years, I had to learn how to go with the flow and accept it.

I knew she didn’t mean to say that with bad intentions. Diane always wanted what was best for me, and I was glad that she felt that way since I would do the same with her. She was my longest friend for as long as I could remember.

She gave me an apologetic smile, “If anything, maybe your brother can introduce you to his teammates or–”

I playfully shook my head, then stood up with my empty cup in my hands. “I’m getting more coffee.”

She laughed, “Fine. But, I am not done talking about this.”

I gave her a look over my shoulder before heading over to the front counter. The café was even busier now, and I had to squeeze past a few people waiting for their orders. I handed my cup to the barista, tapping my fingers against the counter as I waited.

Diane’s words lingered in my head. Maybe this was a big opportunity, Maybe I was overreacting. But there was still that anxious feeling in my stomach, my subconscious telling me that I was not ready for this.

The barista handed me the the refilled cup, and I turned back towards our table–

Only to be met with a sudden, solid force.

The next thing I knew, the warmth of hot coffee spilled down the front of my hoodie. I sucked in a sharp breath as the heat seared against my skin right through the fabric. “Fuck!”

The impact rattled me, as I staggered back, barely managing to keep hold of the cup and maintaining my balance. I looked down at the damage, dark brown stains spread across the pale gray fabric.

I clenched my jaw. Just perfect.

“Shit, I–”

I glanced up, ready to give whoever it was a piece of my fucking mind and–

I froze. No, it can’t be.

Quinn fucking Hughes.

Stood right in front of me, low and behold, looked just as surprised as I did.

Up close, he was taller than I expected–maybe I was just short– lean but solid, his broad shoulders filling out his fitted black hoodie effortlessly. His dark hair was slightly tousled under his hat; damp at the ends like he’d just finished practice or a workout, and completely blended with the crowd of people as if he wasn’t one of the biggest NHL players in the league.

I blinked, my brain lagging for a second. I’ve seen him on TV, many times before, in clips that Simon had angrily sent me after a few bad games, but seeing him up close was different. Very different.

He had his own unique attractiveness, I won’t lie. He had the light scruffy stubble around his jaw–sharp jawline, and piercing green eyes that made him look intense, but there was a softness in the way that he blinked at me, momentarily thrown off.

What was he doing here of all places?

He didn’t seem to realize that I wasn’t saying anything and ran a hand through his hair, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I, uh–” He hesitated, looking vaguely horrified at the sight of my hoodie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t paying attention.”

I exhaled through my nose, forcing myself to calm down despite the feeling of coffee soaking into my hoodie. “Yeah, no kidding.”

He pulled a handful of napkins from the counter and offered them to me, “Here.”

“Thanks.” I took them from his grasp and attempted to clean the stain, knowing it wouldn’t do much but tried anyway.

“I can buy you another one,” Quinn offered, nodding towards the counter. “Or, at least a new hoodie?

I shook my head, frustrated that the napkins were making my hoodie worse. “I don’t need anything from an NHL player, alright–”

Oh shit. My eyes widened as soon as the words slipped from my mouth.

That caught him off guard, and so had I.

Quinn’s expression lit up and brows furrowed instantly at that, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “So, you know who I am?”

“Yes, I do.” I said in a tone indicating that it wasn’t a good thing.

He studied me for a moment. Probably thinking that I was a hockey fan or whatnot.

“Can I at least get your name or number?” He paused, scrambling to rephrase what his intentions were behind that question. “To replace your hoodie or pay for dry cleaning, anything to fix what I caused.”

He sounded pretty genuine and his intentions were nothing but pure, hopefully.

I gave him a look, “I’m not making you buy me a hoodie. I can take care of this–” I looked down at the mess. “–myself. So, I think I’ll respectfully pass up on that offer of yours.”

As I was about to turn my back on him, his fingers found the material of my sleeve, and swiftly pulled me back. “Hey look, I’d feel really bad if I left here without making it up to you.”

“Oh, really?”

He only nodded, which amused me.

“I think I can survive without your help, but thanks.”

Quinn’s lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but thought the better of it before I turned around.

I felt his eyes linger on me as soon as I made my way back to Diane. She watched the whole thing and she looked like she was about to lose her damn mind once I sat down.

I glanced over my shoulder back to where Quinn stood. I was so lost in that interaction that I hadn’t noticed two other of his Canuck buddies were standing behind him. I watched them laughing–most likely teasing him–about what they witnessed. Great, that was just great.

“What the actual fuck just happened, Syd?”

I wish I knew.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #vancouver canucks #nhl #nhl imagine #jack hughes #luke hughes #qh43

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teaandjumpers · 3 months ago

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Occasion (obikin ficlet)

Summary: Obi-Wan gives Anakin a gift. Rated G. - - - -

“I thought we agreed you’d wear goggles at the workstation,” said Obi-Wan, sidling up to stand beside Anakin at his workbench.

The younger man was hunched over the table, soldering something, his face too close to the tool to be considered safe.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t creep up on me like that,” said Anakin, not bothering to glance his way.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, leaning against the workbench. He had broadcast his approach through the Force, and he knew Anakin was aware of his presence, the younger man sending him a slightly annoyed ping across their bond.

Anakin was often hard to reach when he was working on a project, immersing himself completely in a task and finding it difficult to refocus when he was interrupted.

He felt bad for a moment, but he had a good reason for disrupting his former Padawan.

“I have something for you,” he said, keeping his voice light.

Anakin’s head shot up at the words, his shoulder-length hair whipping about him.

Oh, how he’d grown into those curls. When he had first started growing his hair out, the dark, golden strands beginning to coil near the ends, Obi-Wan knew that his soft-eyed Padawan was going to be a heartbreaker.

He just didn’t realize it would be his heart Anakin would be breaking. What a cruel fate to fall for your former Padawan. And a crueler fate to have half the galaxy fall along with you.

Obi-Wan had done all he could to rid himself of his feelings—the attraction, at least.

He had given up on not loving Anakin long ago, maybe even as early as that day on Naboo, standing beside his new apprentice, the young boy having been through so much already, standing tall alongside him as an entire planet cheered them on.

He had asked Yoda once, years before Qui-Gon took him on, what it was like for a Master and Apprentice, what shape a bond took.

“Different every Master and Padawan relationship is. Find your way there perhaps one day you will.”

And find his way he had. Or rather, it had found him.

He had loved his Master dearly, his Master’s presence in the Force always grounding, a warm fire that made him feel forever safe, like nothing bad could ever truly happen.

But Anakin—Anakin was like a supernova, an unending, thunderous storm, a screaming bright star that was impossible to ignore.

In those early years, he thought of little else but Anakin, his welfare and whereabouts.

Had his own Master woken repeatedly in the middle of the night, sheets drenched, a blind panic thundering against his chest as he searched the Force for his Padawan’s location?

Anakin had always been close. Almost always safe. And though Obi-Wan felt him in the Force, he always had to check, confirm it with his eyes, that Anakin was alive, healthy, there.

He was eternally grateful that his apprentice was strong in the Force. It meant Obi-Wan would never have to confront who he would be, who he would become if his Padawan was ever in any real danger.

Standing beside Anakin now, perhaps one of the strongest Force users in the galaxy, he felt silly, wondering if it was too late to take back his words. Wondering if the younger man had seen the small bundle he was clutching in his right hand.

Of course he had.

Obi-Wan wordlessly handed the package over, watching with some trepidation as Anakin untied the string holding the linen fabric in place.

The cloth fell away to reveal a model ship. It was still grimy despite Obi-Wan’s best efforts to clean the thing, the ship’s insect-like design making it difficult to thoroughly clean its delicate, spindly limbs.

He had bought the toy on a recent mission, passing by a storefront on a mid-rim planet where a child who looked remarkably like a 10-year old Anakin from behind had stopped him in his tracks, the young boy’s palms pressed against the smudged window pane as he gazed at the model ships neatly displayed on the other side.

How many times had a similar scene played out with Anakin, his Padawan’s gaze straying, fixing on a toy he would never have.

“It’s a Jedi Vector ship,” said Obi-Wan, the words clumsy on his tongue. “It was a High—”

“A High Republic ship,” finished Anakin, turning the model over in his hands, smiling as he did so. “I know.”

Anakin smiled up at him sweetly, and if Obi-Wan didn’t know the man, if there had been no planet-wide history between them, he would have grabbed him by the face and kissed him.

A ‘pathetic life form’ he had called him once. Anakin would have been a complete stranger in a different life, a speck of sand in a large desert of people who deserved better.

It was selfish, and very un-Jedi-like, but Obi-Wan was grateful that Anakin’s fate had been different.

“But what’s the occasion?” asked Anakin, still smiling, still looking up at him, still, somehow, every bit as spirited as he was before the war.

The occasion, thought Obi-Wan. The occasion was every occasion, every year, every month, every day, every breath the Force sought fit to gift him, here, alongside Anakin.

But he simply said—

“You are.”

#obikin ficlet #obikin #obikin fic #my fic #wrote this instead of watching the superbowl #already posted on ao3 but wanted to share here

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gingerteafairy · 2 months ago

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i want to thank @marchsfreakshow for encouraging me to post it. this is insanely long, had to be divided into other chapters, this is the first one. hope you guys like it because i loved to write this fic. sorry for the mistakes here. english is not my first language. special thanks for @ikkyfics!!

THE GREAT GUIDE FOR JAILBIRDS IN LOVE

warren lipka x fem!reader part two

summary: tough times shows up after prision. His only alternative? Working miles away from home. The name of the place was almost faded, but he could still make it out: Last Chance Market.

tags n warnings: postprison!warren, singlemom!reader, language, age gap (late 20s/early 30s), suggestive, complicated family scenario. word count: 13k

Rule #1: Make a Good Impression

Warren was cornered. Spending time in prison wasn’t as tough as what came after: having to rebuild his life from scratch, with that stupid criminal record hanging around his neck like a weight. There was no place for him anywhere, not even at street corner markets selling stolen cigarettes. He felt useless. He’d been turned down even for a job at a sleazy motel, where not even the criminal underworld seemed to want him anymore. Rent was overdue, and his last meal of the month was expired cereal from a month ago and a warm bottle of beer, which he was still deciding whether or not to drink to numb the pain a little.

He had almost given up on looking for more opportunities. Maybe selling art on the beach, like Spencer, or getting rid of all the junk in his place until he was left with just a bed and a fridge. Because, honestly, even a wood-burning stove could come in handy these days.

What was there to do now? The answer was simple: absolutely nothing. Just shrink. He slouched on the couch, legs stretched out, eyes glued to his phone screen, as if it were his last lifeline. The internet bill was the only thing he had managed to keep up with. Funny. He could be broke and starving, but funny videos were a relief. Reality, no matter how harsh, could wait. He mindlessly scrolled through the feed, as if in some way postponing the inevitable, until a message flashed on the screen, snapping him out of his stupor.

Spencer:

Hey man. My buddy’s market is hiring. Cashier. Male. $1,720. Fuel help. Only requirement is knowing how to count change. No small talk. Just show up today at 3 PM.

It was impossible not to feel an immediate sense of relief, like life had suddenly given him a second chance. This had to be some kind of miracle. But of course, there was a catch. It was already 2 PM, and the market was on the other side of the city. So, what did he do? Like an automatic reflex, he glanced at the dirty mirror on the wall. He needed a shower, at least.

He grabbed his phone again without thinking twice. Before stepping into the bathroom, he sent Spencer a message.

Warren:

Thanks, man. I know this could be my last shot before I fade into invisibility.

Spencer:

I know things are tough. Good luck. I know you’ll nail it.

With that, Warren rushed into the shower, doing the bare minimum to look like someone who hadn’t completely lost himself. He thought about his clothes. His first option was what was left of the most “decent” outfit— the T-shirt and jeans he’d worn the day of the robbery. “Great, perfect impression, Warren Lipka,” he muttered, staring at himself in the mirror. The shirt was wrinkled, and the jeans had a hole in the pocket, but deep down, he didn’t care anymore. Ironing? Maybe another day. If he had to go, he might as well go in style. A style that was wrinkled, but still, style.

He checked the GPS and entered the address. The drive would be long, the kind of trip that makes you see parts of the city you only know by name. It felt like a tour, but of a place you didn’t want to know. The city stretched out, as if it couldn’t quite handle its own misery. Finally, he reached a run-down market and parked in a secluded corner. The name of the place was almost faded, but he could still make it out: Last Chance Market.

“Last Chance? What a joke,” he muttered to himself, laughing quietly as he stepped out of the car. He locked the door quickly, not wasting time. What kind of neighborhood was this? You never know when a bigger problem might pop up, something worse than a simple job interview.

He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but a strange wave of nervousness hit him. It was just another job, he told himself. Just another one, a way to get things moving, even a little. If he was lucky, maybe he'd even come out with some dignity. If he was unlucky... well, he was used to that.

The one thing he knew for sure was that, somehow, life wouldn’t wait for him to figure things out. He had to try. Even if it was at a place called Last Chance.

He pushed open the door, hearing the little bell ring, announcing his entrance. The place was so quiet that the sound seemed to echo in the emptiness. As Warren had expected, no one was in sight. He let out a low, almost scornful laugh, twirling his car keys in his fingers before slipping them into his pocket. "This place looks like it’s been forgotten," he thought, feeling an odd sense of discomfort, but he knew there was no choice but to press on.

“Is anyone here?” he shouted, hoping no one would answer. That way, he could just turn around and leave this bizarre place behind, a bad judgment call.

The silence lingered for a few seconds, but no answer came. With nothing else to do, he shrugged and began walking through the narrow aisles. Hands in his pockets, Warren scanned the area, his eyes sharp, looking for any sign of a security camera. No security in this place? Typical. He gave a crooked smile, and as he passed a shelf, he grabbed a chocolate bar and slipped it into his pocket with a quick, almost natural motion.

"Why are you stealing?" The sudden, sharp voice of a child cut through the air, making Warren jump back, knocking the candy off the shelf. They fell to the floor with a small clatter, creating an absurd scene. "Shit, that scared the hell out of me."

"Jesus, kid. Where did you..." He muttered, instinctively raising his fist, as if it were an automatic reaction, but quickly lowering it when he saw the child. It was just a little boy, there was no way he could hit someone that young. "I wasn’t stealing, man. I was just saving it to pay later."

"Luke, who are you talking to?" Her voice came in soft but firm. Warren turned, his eyes widening, and there you were: so beautiful, it almost seemed out of place in this dead-end town. You appeared so suddenly he barely had time to process it.

"Talking to this guy who was..." The little boy began to reply, but you interrupted him with a calm smile.

"Warren Lipka." He quickly introduced himself, extending his hand to you. He wanted to make a good impression, or at least seem less pathetic than he felt. "I’m here for the job interview they said was going on."

You paused for a moment, then let out a short laugh, gentler than he expected. "Oh, you’re Warren, I should’ve guessed." You shook his hand politely, with a confidence he couldn’t even pretend to have. Then, with a motherly gesture, you turned back to the boy, who was still staring curiously at Warren.

You bent down and kissed the boy on the top of his head, the gesture so natural, like it was something you did every day. Afterward, you turned and started walking toward a door behind the cashier. "Come on, or are you going to steal another chocolate?" You asked, your voice laced with light teasing. Warren almost wanted to bury himself right then and there, embarrassed for being caught.

"How..." He began to ask, unsure of what exactly to say.

"Hidden camera," you explained, flashing a mischievous smile. You watched as he began scanning the room with his eyes, trying to piece together what had just happened. "I’ll show you later. Now come on."

With one last glance around the place, Warren, still confused and wearing an awkward smile, followed you to the door.

The room revealed was simple, with white walls and a large shelf on one side covered in folders and a few books—most of them children’s books, others Warren couldn’t identify, but from the titles, he could tell they were probably boring. You gestured for him to sit, and then took a seat across the desk. Warren distractedly looked at the small photo on the desk: the little boy outside, smiling beside you in a park filled with trees. Their smiles, so natural, reflected a moment of happiness.

"You two look alike." Warren started the conversation, pointing at the photo with one hand while the other fiddled in his pocket.

"They say he has my eyes. But I think it’s the hair, maybe the shape of the face." You smiled softly, stretching your neck to look at the photo more closely, the movement light and effortless.

"Maybe it’s the eyes. They really do look like yours." Warren said, shaking his head with a somewhat awkward smile. "You’re a really great older sister."

You let out a soft laugh, masking a smile that slipped out for just a moment. "Thanks, but Luke’s my son."

Warren froze, his jaw dropping at the revelation. He widened his eyes, unable to believe it, then quickly disguised his shock, putting his hands to his mouth like he was trying to wipe the look of disbelief off his face. "Now it all makes sense," he murmured, unaware of how visibly stunned he was.

"What?" You asked, raising an eyebrow, curious.

"I’ve never seen a sibling so affectionate. I used to fight with mine all the time." Warren laughed, still in disbelief, furrowing his brow casually as if trying to make the moment less awkward.

"Really? I had Luke when I was really young, 18 years old to be exact." You added, your hands folding on the table, your expression now more serious, as if you were sharing a piece of your story.

"Damn. God, I’m sorry. Shit, I feel like such an idiot now." Warren muttered, running a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.

"It’s fine. You don’t need to get nervous." You quickly reassured him, your voice calm and soothing. You leaned forward slightly, as if trying to show empathy for him in that moment.

"And I even called you beautiful. Shit, I’m really not cut out for this." Warren placed his hands on his head, leaning on the table with a heavy sigh. He lifted his eyes to you, his gaze now loaded with guilt. "You think your husband would kill me if he knew?"

"Maybe he would, if I had one." You joked, tilting your head lightly in a playful way, trying to ease the tension in the air. Warren noticed a slight sadness in your voice that didn’t go unnoticed, but for some reason, he decided not to bring it up.

You sighed, straightening your posture and sitting up straighter as if shifting the conversation. "Alright. You’re hired."

"What? Already? What about the interview..." He paused, scratching his head, visibly surprised at how quickly the decision had been made.

"You were hired the moment you walked through that door." You laughed softly, stretching in your chair casually. "Not many people make it out here."

"No wonder. A dump like this..." He scoffed, mocking the place, but his eyes widened when he realized what he’d just said. "Oh my god. Again. Shit, I just say the dumbest stuff. Sorry."

"Don’t worry about it. It really is a dump." You laughed, getting up and walking around the table with light steps. Out of nowhere, you surprised him with a quick, almost warm hug that left Warren feeling momentarily disoriented. "Welcome, Warren."

"Thanks. I won’t let you down." He said, offering a weak smile, but mentally cursing himself for noticing how good you smelled as you pulled away. The feeling of being an idiot didn’t leave his chest.

Warren opened the door for you, and you gave him a gentle smile, your eyes sparkling with a kind of genuine warmth. He followed right behind you, closing the door with a soft click, breathing deeply as he watched you walk through the market, seemingly immersed in something only you knew. He wondered if it was something related to the boy’s father or if you were just worried about something missing from the shelves.

"Did you pay for the chocolate?" Little Luke inquired, a confused expression plastered on his face.

"How old are you, kid?" Warren questioned, furrowing his brow, briefly glancing at you before returning his gaze to the boy.

"Seven. But I’m almost eight. In nine months and thirteen days." Luke declared proudly, crossing his arms like an adult.

"Weird kid." Warren thought to himself, silently laughing at the little one with big, curious eyes. Something about him seemed strangely familiar. So he pulled a dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to the boy. Maybe it was a desire to please you or to apologize to the kid. "Here. It’s for the chocolate."

"It’s $2.35. You’re short $1.35." Luke blinked, extending his hand toward him.

"Oh, kid. Just take the dollar and be quiet, alright? I’m struggling here." Warren hissed at the boy, but instead of crying, the little one just smiled.

"You’re weird. I like you." He chuckled, a funny, purely childlike melody echoing through the small space of the market.

Something warmed in Warren’s chest as he watched that toothless smile. The thought of being a dedicated father flooded his mind, creating false scenarios of an idealized life – a family smiling, him hugging his wife, holding his son in his arms, walking him to school, giving him a dog, teaching him how to shoot. Damn, he’d do anything to be the best dad for Luke, and it wouldn’t even be just because he wanted to win over the beautiful mom from the market. That was the one thing missing from his life, maybe that’s why he was born.

"If you start today, I can give you a tip." Your voice, breaking the idealized moment, brought Warren back to reality. He was an ex-convict, semi-in-love with a single mom, and still trying to figure out if any of this even made sense.

"You don’t have to. I can help." He tried to hide the silly smile that was about to appear, taking the uniform you handed him.

"I insist. The salary’s not great, and you’re practically the only employee here." You remarked, with that radiant smile Warren had already memorized. The sincerity in your tone was palpable.

"No, seriously. Don’t worry about it. It’ll be a pleasure working with you." He stated without thinking, quickly clearing his throat with a small gesture. "Working with you. You get it."

"Yes. Thanks. I owe you one." You waved your hand, heading back to the room with Luke happily trailing behind you, both walking away while Warren stood there, eyes fixed, his heart still beating harder than usual.

"Alright… time to work." Warren stretched lazily, raising his arms above his head before shuffling toward the employee bathroom.

The space was small and functional, a far cry from the public restroom, which for some reason, was absurdly large and had a strange smell that didn’t leave, even with air freshener. He grabbed the uniform you had given him—a yellow shirt with the store’s name printed on the front. Since there were no pants in the package, he decided his own would do the trick.

When he came out of the bathroom, he closed the door with a quiet click and, with a swift motion, tied his hair in a tiny ponytail. He walked to the register, where you were already standing with a notebook in hand. The moment you heard his footsteps, you looked up.

"Looks good on you." Your tone was kind as you pointed to the shirt identical to yours. He hadn’t even noticed when you had changed—maybe it was when you went into the back room.

"Now we match, look." The voice emerged from behind him. Luke appeared beside him, wearing the same uniform, which, even in the smallest size, was still too big for his tiny frame.

"Yeah, kid. Now we’re coworkers. A real man." Warren smiled and lowered his hand for a high five with the boy, who tried to slap it with all his might.

"Wow. You’re strong. You gonna tell me you’ve been training secretly?"

"I train. I watch fight videos on YouTube." Luke replied proudly, striking a boxing guard pose.

"Luke, we’ve talked about this." Your voice came with a warning tone as you approached.

"Ah, mom. I don’t watch blood. Only sometimes." He pouted indignantly, and you tilted your head before pinching his nose with two fingers.

"Ow, mom!"

"Didn’t see that coming, huh?" Warren chuckled without thinking, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment longer than necessary. In the brief silence that followed, something in his expression made his heart skip a beat. Warren Lipka didn’t seem like the dangerous criminal from the TV—just a guy with a big heart and an intensity that even he didn’t realize he had.

“Yeah... we have a routine.” You cleared your throat, shaking off the unnecessarily sweet thoughts and handing the sheet over to him. “Monday is deep cleaning day, Saturday we count the stock. I’m here at 8 AM every day, except Thursday, when I pick up Luke from his grandparents’ house and drop him off at school. I get here at 10 AM that day. The rest is pretty easy, not much movement. Here, take this to memorize.”

“Got it.” Warren took the notebook, noticing how detailed your notes were.

“Today is Wednesday. You’ll be in the deli section.”

“Just checking expiration dates?”

“Yep. Luke usually helps me, but today he has homework.”

“Can I stay with Warren first?” Luke inquired, his eyes shining with expectation.

You gave an indulgent smile before raising an eyebrow. “Promise you won’t fight with your classmates at school tomorrow?”

“I promise.” He nodded firmly and raised his pinky. “But only tomorrow.”

Warren let out a low chuckle, and you gave him a playful disapproving look.

“Don’t encourage him.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He laughed even harder, covering his mouth with his hand. “Let’s go, Luke. Let’s see if this meat is still good. Did you know that a lot of good meat gets thrown away here in the US? I used to collect it.”

“Seriously?” Luke’s eyes widened as he walked alongside him to the refrigerators.

“Yeah. I’d go to markets like this one and take the ones that were still good.” Warren opened the fridge and started checking the labels. Then he paused, blinking as if realizing too late what he’d just said. “…But don’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s wrong.” He tried to hold back his laughter but failed miserably. “Hey, what do you think of this one?” He picked up a steak package and held it up for Luke to see.

“I think it’s still good to freeze. It’s got 10 days left.”

“A deal, then. 50% off this stuff that’s about to expire.” Warren shrugged, smiling and tossing the package back into the freezer.

…

Warren paced restlessly back and forth in their usual café, his hands moving nervously, his nails gnawed down to the quick, until a small piece of nail polish chipped off. He could feel a tightness in his chest, as if he were about to burst. His body swayed back and forth, his gaze locked on the clock on the wall, the anxiety consuming him. The weight of the conversation he was about to have was crushing his mind. When he finally saw Spencer walk through the door, the relief was instant, but it didn’t ease his nerves. His snack, the one he’d ordered earlier, lay forgotten on the table, untouched. He didn’t even notice it was still there.

Spencer greeted a few people in the café with a disinterested wave before walking over to the table. He sat down, casually tossing his backpack into the chair beside him, and extended his hand to shake Warren's.

“I want to be a stepdad.” Warren blurted out, not wasting a moment, before Spencer had a chance to say anything. The words came out fast, clinging to his chest like gum, almost as if the pressure had reached a point where it could no longer be ignored.

"Hey, how’s it going, Spencer? How’s work? Good. Thanks." Spencer mocked, rolling his eyes at Warren’s approach. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "We haven’t talked in two weeks, and that’s the first thing out of your mouth?"

Warren didn’t care about the teasing. His mind was already fixated on what he had to say. "It’s been two weeks since I met my son." He slammed his hand on the table with conviction, the slap of his palm echoing in the otherwise quiet café. The tension in his body was palpable now, his shoulders tight. He quickly ran a hand through his disheveled hair and pulled a nicotine lozenge from his pocket, placing it in his mouth almost mechanically.

"Since when are you quitting smoking?" Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow, an almost amused smile tugging at his lips as he reached out to grab one of the lozenges and popped it into his own mouth.

"Since I realized innocent people suffer from the crap smokers exhale," Warren replied in a serious tone, biting down harder on the snack, the crunch almost matching the stress he was feeling. "I saw it in the paper."

Spencer frowned, skeptical, but chose not to comment. Instead, he flagged down the waitress to put in an order. The conversation was starting to take a curious turn, and he didn’t want to miss his chance to figure out what was really going on with his friend. The café bell rang, and suddenly, Eric appeared at the door, casually waving to the crowd before heading straight to the table.

"Hey, guys." Eric greeted, throwing himself into a chair and locking eyes with Warren.

"Warren wants to be a stepdad." Spencer said, his tone bored, hiding a smirk of irony, and Warren smiled broadly, relieved to finally say it out loud. It was a mix of nervousness and excitement he couldn’t quite suppress.

"Dude, that’s a bad idea." Eric shook his head, disapproval written all over his face. He leaned forward slightly, as if preparing to explain himself seriously. "Those things never work out. Once you get attached to the mom, she’s never gonna let you go. You’ll regret it."

"That’s sexist, Eric." Warren hissed, grabbing Spencer’s coffee cup and taking a sip without caring that it was someone else’s drink. He knew he was breaking the unspoken rules of the café, but he needed something—anything—to relieve the pressure building inside. "And what’s wrong with her getting attached? I like her."

"When’s her birthday?" Eric shot back, his voice relentless, eyes narrowing as if he were conducting an interrogation.

"I don’t know." Warren replied quickly, but a hint of doubt crept in.

"And the kid’s?" Eric pressed, staring at Warren, waiting for a response.

"Wait, I remember, he told me..." Warren trailed off, trying to recall the details.

"What’s her favorite color, and why is it blue?" Eric fired again, a mocking edge in his tone.

"That’s not the point!" Warren snapped, throwing his hands up in exasperation, his frustration growing. "I don’t know, man. It’s the way she looks at me. Her and that weird kid. The little pest knows everything, he rattles off stuff I don’t even know. He answered 37 + 53 like it was nothing."

"90." Eric responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"That doesn't count, you're a robot." Warren muttered, shaking the snack bag with frustration as he glared at Spencer. He noticed the bag was almost empty. "No, seriously. The kid’s really smart. I know he’s not mine and everything. But I’d make an effort. He has the same nose as me."

"Alright, you're stretching it a bit now." Spencer warned, his voice taking on a serious tone as he finished his coffee with a sigh, setting the empty cup on the table. "What about the job?"

"Tiring. I lift boxes, stack them, store everything. I do almost everything. She helps with cleaning and sometimes takes the register when I'm organizing the fridges. The kid helps her with the change. Everyone who passes by loves him."

"Hmmm. Sounds good." Eric shrugged as the waitress approached with a new order, and he gave a distracted thumbs-up.

"What made you change your mind?" Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued as he looked at Warren with more intensity, his eyebrows raised in genuine interest.

"She’s a hard worker. Women like that are strong. She’s probably fought hard to get this far." Eric spoke with an almost knowing conviction, his tone calm but determined. "Just don’t screw it up, Warren."

"Now it’s my fault?" Warren defended himself, shaking his head in frustration as he stood up from the table, stepping back slightly while slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Where are you going?" Spencer looked up, concern now evident on his face.

"Home. I need to get some sleep for work tomorrow. See you guys." Warren replied quickly, his movements hurried, shoulders tight as he turned to leave. The tension still hung in the air, but he needed a moment alone to process everything.

Rule #2: (Try) Not to Stick Your Nose in Other People’s Business.

Warren woke up earlier than usual that morning. He felt surprisingly energized, a rare occurrence, so he made sure to take a proper shower before heading out for work. He knew that today was one of those days you tended to be late, so he planned to take care of everything until you arrived.

As he parked the car in front of the shop, his eyes immediately found you sitting on the doorstep, shoulders slumped, hands pressing against your head. Something was off. His chest tightened at the sight. You looked... desperate.

His brows furrowed slightly, and Warren stepped out of the car, walking toward you with measured steps, trying not to invade your space too abruptly.

"Hey, are you okay?" His voice was low, cautious, as if afraid of startling you.

You quickly lifted your face, eyes misty, and your chest rose and fell unevenly, betraying the anxiety trapped in your breathing.

"It’s Luke..." Your voice cracked, and you stood up, your hands nervously twisting in front of your chest. "My car broke down, I can't pick him up from his grandparents’ house, and it's almost time for school. He’s going to miss class, and his teacher already said he’s struggling. My brother isn’t answering, no taxis are coming, and..."

With every word, the weight in your chest grew heavier. You didn’t even notice your hands trembling until Warren gently interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

"Hey, hey." His voice was firm but kind, and without thinking much, he pulled you into an embrace.

The warmth of his body surrounded you, and the sudden gesture made your walls crumble for just a second. The woody scent of his cologne mixed with the softness of his jacket fabric made you realize how tense you were. Your heart, which had been pounding against your ribs, began to slow down.

"Sorry. I thought you needed this," he murmured close to your ear.

You exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and pulled back slightly, but without fully breaking the closeness.

"I did. Thank you." Your voice was steadier now, though there was still a lingering edge of panic. You quickly wiped your face with your hands, trying to erase the traces of tears. "Sorry for unloading all this on you, I’m just... desperate."

Warren tilted his head slightly, watching you closely, as if he were analyzing every layer of your nervousness before speaking.

"Where’s his grandparents’ house?" His voice was resolute, like he had already made up his mind.

You blinked a few times, confused by the sudden question.

"What?"

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, taking a deep breath before repeating himself.

"Where’s Luke’s address? I’ll go pick him up."

You froze for a moment, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. Your instincts told you to refuse — he was just your employee, he didn’t need to get involved. But the desperation pressing down on you was heavier than the pride that wanted to hold you back.

"You’d do that?"

The smile that appeared on Warren’s lips was small, but genuine, his dimples barely visible as he grinned. His eyes lingered on them for a moment before you realized you were smiling too, even if shyly.

"Why wouldn’t I?" He raised an eyebrow, as though genuinely finding your hesitation puzzling.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your chest warmed in a strange way.

"Come on. Let’s go." He gestured toward the car.

"And the shop?"

"Ah, no one comes here at this time anyway." He chuckled, as if the place was his to command. And for a moment, you found yourself wishing it was.

Warren walked around the car and opened the passenger door, waiting patiently for you to get in before closing it carefully with a swift motion. He settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

The silence stretched for a few seconds. You were still tense, biting your lower lip, trying to hold onto the last threads of control. Warren noticed and, without saying a word, turned on the radio. A loud rock song blasted through the speakers.

"Shit." He muttered, quickly lowering the volume and switching stations.

The sensual melody of Careless Whisper filled the car.

"Goddamn radio." He grumbled again, spinning the dial hastily. This time, soft instrumental music filled the air. "Better," he said, leaning back into his seat and relaxing.

You chuckled quietly. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For this." You gestured vaguely at the radio and at him. Warren cast a quick glance in your direction before returning his focus to the road.

"Do you like the job?" You asked, trying to ease the weight of the moment, your fingers nervously tapping on the edge of the seat.

"Yeah, actually, I’m pretty attached to it. I think it was my last chance to be a decent citizen." He said with a playful smile, his eyes momentarily glancing at you before turning back to the road.

You tilted your head slightly, studying his profile for a beat, the soft tension in the air palpable.

"Do you like it just for that?" Your question came out more curious than you’d intended, a little more pointed than you planned.

Warren gripped the steering wheel with one hand, using the other to run through his hair, the hint of a mysterious smile curling at the corners of his lips.

"There are other reasons too."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned your gaze to the window, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. You weren't sure why, but the way he said it unsettled you, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

"What about you? Do you like your job?"

You let out a soft, nasal laugh, tilting your head back slightly. "Being the manager of a run-down market wasn’t exactly my childhood dream."

Warren chuckled through his nose, shaking his head in amusement. "How’d you end up there?"

Your smile faltered slightly, and you took a deep breath before answering.

"Well... I got pregnant with Luke."

The atmosphere in the car shifted subtly. Warren fell silent for a moment, as if processing the weight of your words, his hands firm on the wheel, eyes focused ahead.

"Do you regret it?" He asked quietly, his voice softer now, laced with genuine concern.

"In the beginning, it was hard. I didn’t have much support, just graduated high school. College seemed impossible." You glanced down at your hands resting on your lap, fingers twisting nervously. Warren nodded slowly, never looking away from the road. "But then he was born, and... everything changed. It was like my whole life suddenly had a new meaning."

Warren smiled, his thoughts clearly drifting to Luke. And as he did, he realized something interesting: his smile was almost identical to the boy's. That same genuine sparkle in his eyes, a light untouched by time, despite all the struggles life had thrown their way. Without thinking, Warren’s own smile softened, mirroring the one he had just seen.

"Can I ask you about his dad, or would that be too intrusive?" Warren’s voice was gentle now, eyes fixed on you, the concern clear in his gaze.

"No... no, it’s not intrusive." You shook your head, a quiet sigh escaping your lips. "Luke's dad is complicated. He was a great father in the first few months, but then he started saying that Luke was getting in the way of his career."

"What a jerk." Warren spat without thinking, his jaw tightening in indignation. He frowned, immediately realizing his own boldness. "Sorry."

"No... jerk is too mild a word." You shot back, your tone still sharp, but softened by the vulnerability that lingered beneath it. Warren relaxed his shoulders, relieved that he hadn’t crossed a line. "When he said that, I couldn’t take it anymore and ended it. Since then, it’s just been me and Luke. I ended up raising him alone with the help of my parents. Luke doesn’t even know who he is. I prefer it that way. If he asks about him in the future, I’ll tell him, but not now. I’m still angry about it, though."

Warren nodded slowly, processing your words, his expression softening with understanding. For a moment, the only sound in the car was the hum of the engine and the distant rumble of tires on the road.

Finally, Warren let out a small, knowing smile, his gaze gentle.

"I may not know much about you guys, but Luke is a really cool kid." Warren’s voice held a genuine tone of admiration. "Not many seven-year-olds can count the days until their own birthday."

"You really think so?" Your eyes lit up at the question, and a soft smile crept onto your lips, the warmth spreading across your face.

"Of course. The kid’s a little terrifying sometimes, I’ll admit." Warren teased, making you laugh out loud. "Seriously, I get freaked out when he starts doing mental math."

"He’s the best in his class at math." You said, the pride evident in your voice.

Warren rolled his eyes dramatically, his expression playful. "Of course he is. That kid’s going places. He’s going to be the next Einstein, and they’ll write books about him. Mark my words."

You laughed again, and Warren held onto that sound, savoring it, like it was a melody he didn’t want to forget. The sound was infectious, and his chest swelled with an unfamiliar warmth.

"He sounds like my brother. He was always super smart, too. Top of his class, just like Luke. He’s the one who owns the market and helped me get this job. That’s how I ended up there."

"So it’s in the genes."

"Maybe." You fell quiet for a moment, absentmindedly running your fingers through your hair, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. Your thoughts drifted as you absentmindedly added, "Does he have a girlfriend?"

The question came out casually, but it hung in the air with an unexpected weight, more serious than you’d intended.

"Me?" Warren raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. He let out a surprised laugh, his face lit up with disbelief. When you nodded, he shook his head, still laughing. "That’s a good one."

"Why?" You chuckled, leaning slightly towards him. "What’s wrong with that? You’re good-looking, charming, funny. There must be someone."

Warren snorted, resting his elbow against the car window, the air suddenly a little heavier. "Oh, yeah, sure, women love a former convict who can’t even afford a Coke." His voice had a mocking tone, but there was something beneath the sarcasm—a hint of self-deprecation that made your chest tighten with empathy.

"No... no one." He answered quietly, his gaze now fixed on the road ahead. "What about you?"

"No…" Your response came out almost hesitantly, and for a brief moment, a flicker of hope danced in your mind before you pushed it aside.

The conversation fell into a heavy silence, the kind that lingered like a thick fog between you. You could feel the change in the air, the tension that wasn’t quite palpable but couldn’t be ignored either. You silently thanked the universe that you were close to your destination. As Warren parked the car, you quickly unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out, eager to escape the weight of your own thoughts before they dragged you deeper into uncertainty.

You hurried up to the door, your hand moving quickly to press the doorbell without hesitation. Warren followed closely behind, stopping a step back, his body still tense, his eyes scanning the surroundings as if ready for something unexpected.

The door swung open.

And then, your blood ran cold.

"Daniel?" Your voice came out as a strained rasp, barely a whisper, your face draining of color instantly.

The man standing there, with his captivating green eyes and a charming smile, widened the door to let you in. "I was really hoping to talk to you. Come on in."

He then looked at Warren, sizing him up with a quick, calculating glance before extending his hand. "Hey, man. How’s it going? I'm Daniel Beavers, but you can call me Dan."

Warren held his gaze for a second longer than necessary, his jaw tightening, before he shook Daniel's hand with deliberate firmness. "Warren." His voice was cold, the warmth and ease from earlier gone completely.

Daniel laughed, a little too loudly. "Damn, you’re strong." He gave Warren a friendly slap on the back, but Warren didn’t flinch, keeping his expression neutral, only offering a polite smile before stepping inside.

Once out of Daniel’s line of sight, Warren leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, his breath brushing your ear. "Who’s that guy?"

You swallowed hard, keeping your gaze fixed on the floor for a moment before your voice barely escaped your lips, a whisper heavy with discomfort. "Luke’s father."

Warren went silent for a beat, his body stiffening as though the weight of your words had struck him physically. His chest tightened, and his next words came out as a low, almost inaudible murmur. "Shit."

Without thinking, his body straightened, as if some primal instinct had taken over. His shoulders subtly broadened, and he instinctively positioned himself a bit closer to you, as if shielding you from whatever lay ahead. The gesture was so natural, so automatic, it was almost like he was becoming a human barrier.

He didn’t have the right to interfere.

But something inside him screamed that he should.

“Hi, mom!”

Luke’s cheerful voice shattered the tense silence in the room. The little boy appeared, his backpack already slung over his shoulders, running to hug you before turning to Warren with a bright, wide smile.

"Warren!" he exclaimed, launching himself into Warren’s legs for a tight hug.

"Hey, little man. Hope I didn’t take too long." Warren grinned, gently messing up Luke’s hair.

Luke pulled away, furrowing his brow. "What happened? I thought you weren’t gonna come."

"The car broke down, buddy. Warren’s gonna take you to school." You explained, maintaining a smile, though out of the corner of your eye, you couldn’t ignore the way Daniel was watching the scene, his gaze quiet and calculating.

"Cool!" Luke cheered, raising his hand for a high-five with Warren. "Can I sit in the front?"

"Not this time, kiddo." Warren pretended to sound disappointed, crouching down to meet his eyes with a playful expression. "But next time, I promise."

"Okay." Luke whispered, clapping his hands excitedly.

You glanced around the room, feeling the house unusually quiet. "Where are your grandparents?"

"They went to the market. They’re planning a party for Daniel. For some celebration." Luke answered innocently, not noticing the way your shoulders tensed at the mention of Daniel’s name.

You inhaled deeply, trying to keep your composure. "Alright, let’s go. Luke’s gonna be late. It was nice seeing you, Daniel." The falseness of your smile was clear, but it was a necessary mask.

"Wait." Daniel stepped closer, pulling a shiny gold envelope with navy blue details from his pocket. He extended it toward you, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I didn’t even tell you the big news."

Your stomach churned before you even looked at the contents.

"Daniel and Honey?" Your voice came out low, almost incredulous.

"I’m inviting you to my wedding." He announced as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You can bring Warren too. It’d be great to have you both with us. Honey really wants to meet you."

Daniel then pulled out a smaller piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Warren, who hesitated for a moment before reluctantly taking it.

You laughed—not out of happiness, but out of pure disgust. "Yeah, Daniel. You really outdo yourself every day." You stuffed the invitation into your pocket without a second thought.

"It’ll be great to have you there." He softened his voice, his hand making an almost theatrical gesture as it brushed your arm. "Please, sweetheart…"

The silence was thick, suffocating.

Warren watched the scene unfold like a predator studying its prey. His jaw was clenched tight, and his fists were subtly balled at his sides, barely contained by the tension in his body. Something inside him had already pegged Daniel as a fool, but seeing this whole act up close... that was too much. His protective instincts kicked in.

He couldn’t hold back any longer.

"Dude, what’s up with this? Don’t you think this is a little weird?" Warren broke the silence, his voice a low growl that drew every eye in the room to him. His tone came out rougher than he intended, but at that moment, he didn’t care to hide his feelings.

Daniel blinked, genuinely confused by Warren’s reaction. "Weird? Why would it be weird?"

That question only fueled the fire inside Warren.

"Don’t you realize how completely bizarre it is to invite your ex to your wedding without even giving a heads-up? You abandoned this kid, and now you show up years later like everything’s fine?" Warren narrowed his eyes, his muscles visibly tensing as his posture became more aggressive, as if he was ready to jump at any moment.

Daniel let out a nervous laugh, trying to downplay the situation with a dismissive gesture. "Relax, man. I just thought… I don’t know. We’d be good friends. Didn’t know she was already seeing someone again." He shrugged, giving you and Warren a mischievous look, as if he was enjoying the discomfort he was causing.

The statement caught Warren off guard for a moment, making his eyes narrow even further, but he quickly recovered, his expression hardening. "Yeah. Exactly." He reaffirmed without hesitation, crossing his arms firmly. "And even if she wasn’t, you can’t just keep popping in and out of people’s lives like it’s a game. Look at yourself. How old are you?"

Daniel was slightly thrown off, the first crack in his confidence showing in his hesitation. "Twenty-seven."

Warren let out a dry laugh, almost sarcastically. "Twenty-seven." He repeated, savoring the irony of the situation. Then, he stepped forward, forcing Daniel to retreat until his back hit the wall. The intensity of Warren’s presence was palpable. "Listen, man to man. I’m thirty-one. But I had a grip on things long before that."

The discomfort on Daniel's face was unmistakable. He tried to recover his posture, but Warren wasn’t letting him off the hook.

"Alright, man. No need to get all upset or rude." Daniel hissed, attempting to regain his composure as he pushed lightly against Warren’s chest. Warren instantly lifted a fist, ready for any reaction.

It was only then that he remembered you and Luke were still there, silently observing the scene. Warren took a deep breath, cracked his neck, and relaxed his shoulders before speaking in a more controlled voice, though still firm. "Stay out of our lives again, alright?"

Then, with a sharp smile, he straightened Daniel’s perfectly aligned suit jacket as if he were adjusting a porcelain doll, his touch almost mocking. "Are you a lawyer?"

"Yeah." Daniel replied automatically, quickly wiping where Warren had gripped him, trying to salvage his composure.

"I hate that kind." Warren muttered between his teeth, his gaze hardening, but he quickly turned to you, softening his expression. He gave you a more serene smile, almost affectionate. "Shall we go, babe?"

Your heart skipped a beat at hearing him say “babe.” Not out of fear, but because, in that moment, you realized something different. The way Warren said it felt... right. As though he had claimed a piece of you without even realizing it.

"For sure." You smiled, your eyes softening as you started walking toward the door. But then you stopped, turned around, and walked back to Daniel with steady steps.

Without hurrying, you took the invitation from your pocket with a smooth motion and extended it to him, without any emotional appeal. "Keep it for someone who actually wants to go. Best wishes!" Your voice was sweet, but the sarcasm beneath it was impossible to ignore. Every word carried a subtle criticism, something you could no longer hide.

Daniel stood there, frozen, holding the invitation as if he had finally realized it was irrelevant to you, his expression draining of any confidence he had left as the reality hit him. He was out of place. And that seemed clear to everyone in the room.

Warren opened the door for you to pass, but before you stepped out, he gave Daniel one last threatening glance. A silent, but clear, warning.

You both walked toward the car, no longer needing to hide the smile on your faces. The tension from the earlier conversation still hung in the air, but somehow, the whole situation seemed to have brought you even closer.

"Alright, all set..." Warren murmured as he buckled Luke's seatbelt in the back seat. "Now, school."

He was already turning to head to the driver's seat when Luke's curious little voice caught you both off guard:

"Are you and mommy dating?"

The silence that followed was instant. You and Warren froze for a second before exchanging a knowing glance.

Warren raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well... I'm a pretty nosy guy," he said, looking directly at you before turning to Luke. "So, I guess we are."

He twisted the key in the ignition, but before pulling away, he cast a quick glance your way. "Is this alright with you? Us... this."

The question came without hesitation, but with a genuine undertone of concern. You held your breath for a moment, feeling the weight of the silent exchange between you two. Then, you smiled. Not just any smile, but one of those effortless, warm, and real smiles.

"Great." You replied, feeling a lightness in your chest.

He studied your face for a second longer than necessary, as if he wanted to lock that expression in his memory. Then, he nodded, a small smile forming at the corner of his lips.

"Great." He repeated, turning his attention back to the road before accelerating, as if the whole world had just fallen back into place.

Rule #3: Your friends aren’t always right.

After school, you drove to the grocery store. The car’s engine hummed softly before going silent as you turned the key in the ignition. The sound of the seatbelt undoing echoed in the silence between you. You opened the door and climbed out, unlocking the passenger door without looking back. Warren stepped out soon after, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets, his gaze scanning the storefront as if something was different, even though everything looked exactly the same.

Inside, the muffled sound of an old radio played some generic music as you made your way to the checkout. Warren, on the other hand, detoured to the warehouse, his steps slower than usual. The smell of dust and cardboard filled his nostrils as he entered. The shelves were crammed, the boxes stacked chaotically, as usual. But Warren didn’t care about any of that.

He just needed a moment here, alone, to gather his thoughts.

With a heavy sigh, he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it with trembling fingers. His gaze ran over the words written there—how many times had he read them?—but before he could get lost in his own thoughts, the creak of the door opening made him quickly shove the paper back into his pocket.

"Can I come in?" Your voice sounded hesitant, head peeking through the crack in the door. He blinked a few times before forcing a smile.

"Of course you can. You own the place." He gestured with his hand, a relaxed movement, but his shoulders remained tense.

You walked in, closing the door behind you, the dry sound of wood echoing through the small space. Your eyes wandered around the warehouse for a second before returning to Warren, who was now swinging his foot on the floor, his right hand still deep in his pocket.

"I just came to say..." You began, walking slowly towards him. "Thank you for what you did today."

He let out a short, humorless laugh, looking away from you to the floor. "Oh, that?" His shoulders lifted in a casual gesture. "It was nothing. In fact, I think I was kind of stupid."

"No." Your answer came out firm, quick, taking him by surprise. You cleared your throat, trying to soften your tone. "It wasn't stupid. It was... it was really good. Really helpful. I lost my mind, I didn't know what to do in that situation. He was such an asshole."

Warren tilted his head to the side, watching your expression for a moment before asking, "Has he always been like this?"

You let out a tired sigh, leaning against the wall behind you. "I guess he always has. I just didn't want to notice."

"That sucks." He muttered, biting the inside of his cheek. After a second of hesitation, he walked over to stand next to you, leaning against the wall as well. "I guess we always have that in life. Not realizing the right person was right there."

You frowned, lifting your chin with a hint of indignation in your voice. "Why do we do this, huh? All the signs were there. The way he ignored me, how I had to ask him to the school dance..."

Warren turned his face towards you, blinking slowly. "You asked him to the school dance and not the other way around?"

"Yeah! Can you believe that?" You huffed, crossing your arms. "He said he forgot! When we were picking out my dress the night before!"

Warren closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a long sigh before muttering, "What an idiot." He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, the fluorescent light above casting soft shadows on his face. With a slow movement, he licked his lips before speaking again. "I would never do that to you."

Your chest tightened, your breath catching for a second.

"What do you mean by that?" Your voice came out low, almost reluctant.

He pressed his teeth against his cheek, looking away to the floor, as if seeking courage there. When he finally looked back at you, his expression was more serious.

"I would never treat you like that." His voice was firm, but there was a certain hesitation in his gaze. "I'm not exactly a good guy, you know that. But I’d never leave you hanging like that."

"Really?" You leaned your head against the wall, still looking at him, your fingers tightening the hem of your blouse with an unconscious reflex of nervousness.

Warren nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips, almost as if he was amused by your reaction. You snorted and went back to staring at the ceiling. The silence that followed was almost palpable. Your breathing seemed to echo in the small warehouse, while the dust danced in the air under the yellowish light.

"Oh my God..." The laugh came low, exhaled along with a sigh.

"What?" He frowned, but the corner of his mouth still carried a trace of amusement.

"Now I want to go to Daniel's wedding with you just so he can see that I'm okay." You admitted, covering your face with your hands, feeling the heat rise to your ears. "That's so immature. I'm such an idiot."

Warren let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, come on, I don't care." Without hesitation, he took another step towards you, leaning in slightly as he gently removed your hands from your face. "I still have a password, we can say it's yours and that I'm following."

"No, Warren... That's not right." You protested, but the lightness of laughter was still present in your voice. "I'd be using you and that's so wrong..."

"Do it. I just don't want you to look like that because of that idiot." His voice lowered slightly, seriousness seeping into his tone.

"He doesn't deserve even a second of your emotions, of anything you have to offer. So use me. Do whatever you think is best, because you have a hard enough life to worry about anything else and I'm willing to do anything to help you."

Your heart stumbled in your chest when you felt his warm touch against your wrists. Warren gently lowered them, letting his hands rest on either side of your body. The space between you was decreasing with each passing second without anyone making an effort to break it.

He bit his lower lip, his gaze flickering between your mouth and your eyes. You felt your breath catch at the realization, heat rising in your stomach, in your cheeks. Your own attention followed suit—his lips, then his brown eyes, intense, filled with something unsaid but completely understood. The atmosphere was heavy in a way that seemed impossible to ignore.

Warren's heart hammered against his ribs as he raised one hand, bracing it on the wall beside you. The other still held yours. The space between your bodies slowly disappeared. He leaned toward you, his lashes lowering as your faces came closer, your breath mingling.

Then, the doorbell rang.

The sound cut through the moment like a sharp blade, making you both pull away in an instant. You took a step back, your chest rising and falling with your ragged breaths. Warren ran a hand through his hair, staring at the ceiling as if cursing the universe.

"I better... you know... go outside." He nodded, his voice thick with something that sounded like disappointment.

You nodded, crossing your arms over your body as if that could contain the wave of feelings that were stirring inside you. He hesitated for a moment before leaving, closing the door behind him. But he didn't leave right away—Warren leaned his back against the wood for a few seconds, exhaling slowly, trying to regain control. Only then did he pull away and walk to the cashier.

You stood there for a few more moments, your fingertips brushing your lips, as if trying to feel something that had never happened.

If you had kissed... would it have been wrong? Or was the doorbell a signal not to?

You shook your head, muttering "Stop it" to yourself, trying to push the thought away. But the knot in your chest was still there as you left the warehouse and headed back to the market.

Across the way, Warren was handing over the customer’s groceries with automatic movements, but his mind was elsewhere. When his eyes met yours, for just a second, something flared again—a question, an uncertainty, a regret.

Without saying anything, you looked away and walked into the office, busying yourself with anything that felt like work. You needed to distract yourself, needed to convince yourself that this didn’t mean anything.

The customer left, and Warren stood behind the register, still holding the last bag as if he’d forgotten to let go of it. His mind raced in circles, trying to find a way to talk about what had almost happened. To tell him how he felt without ruining everything.

He walked slowly to the office door and raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. His fingers hovered over the wood for a second before curling into a fist and pulling back.

This didn’t make sense. It wasn’t supposed to happen.

And if it did, he was sure it would ruin everything.

Eric was right. It was better to just give up.

Rule #4: Don't hold back an emotion for too long, it might take over you.

The doorbell rang, and Warren didn't even need to look up to know who it was. The familiar jingle of keychains rattling in his backpack and the sweet smell of grape candies in the air were enough to recognize Luke.

"Hey, little man. How was school today?" Warren beamed, walking around the counter with lazy steps to talk to the boy.

"It was nice." Luke replied excitedly, throwing his backpack on the floor before wrapping Warren in a brief, tight hug. Soon after, he pulled away and stuck his small hand in his pants pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. "Look, I made this today."

"Awesome, a frog." Warren took the green origami between his fingers, studying the careful folds. He turned the piece from side to side, smiling. "Where did you learn that?"

"On the internet, look. Come see, it jumps." Luke took it back, placed it on the counter, and pressed it lightly on the paper. The little frog jumped. "See?"

Warren raised an eyebrow. "Boy, you're scary." He tested the frog, squeezing the paper as Luke had done, and the creature jumped again. "This is witchcraft, isn't it? You put magic in it and didn't tell me, you little brat."

"No!" Luke laughed, shaking his head. "It's just origami. If you fold the paper the right way, it moves, like a lever."

"I see..." Warren feigned distrust, crossing his arms. "So it's pure skill and not some dark pact?"

Luke laughed, shaking his head. "Wanna make one?"

"Tsk, I don't know." Warren leaned back a little, as if it were a risky challenge. "I'm pretty sure I'll ruin it before I even touch the paper."

"Stop being a wimp." The boy, however, didn't take the refusal lying down. Luke took his hand with determination and pulled him down the hallway to the office. The air grew heavier as Warren walked through the door.

His eyes met yours for a moment too long. Something unresolved hung in the space between you, and you both looked away almost at the same time, disguising it with silent discomfort.

It had been a week.

Seven days since what almost happened in the warehouse.

Since then, conversations had been limited to short sentences about work, polite words that didn't fill the awkward silence. You spent as much time as possible in the office, while Warren remained at the cash register busy with anything other than talking to you. Always busy. The only close interaction happened when it was time to restock the shelves or when one of you left. And even then, you both avoided looking each other directly in the eyes.

"Hi, sweetheart. How was school today?" You broke the silence first, forcing a smile as Luke let go of Warren's hand and ran over to you.

"It was cool, but Warren and I are really busy right now." He explained excitedly, grabbing two sheets of paper from your desk.

"With what, exactly?" You asked, your gaze falling on Warren more than the boy.

"We're gonna make frogs." Warren answered casually, twirling the sheet between his fingers.

"Frogs?" Your brow furrowed slightly.

"Of paper, Mom." Luke rolled his eyes, as if your question was absurd. "I made one in class and now I'm going to teach Warren how to make one too. Sit here, facing Mom."

Warren hesitated, his eyes meeting yours again, almost as if he was asking for permission. You held his gaze for a second before nodding, pointing to the chair across from you. He sat down, looking guilty, shifting in his chair as Luke stood beside him, full of excitement.

"Here's how it is, follow everything I do or you'll get lost and do it all wrong." The boy began to fold the paper with precision. Warren imitated the movement, frowning in concentration.

"That's it. Now you're going to fold it here... like this."

"Okay..." Warren replicated the fold, narrowing his eyes to check if he was doing it right. "And now?"

"Do it like this, like this. Now fold it like this... Now turn it over. Don't let it get wrinkled, it has to be right. Turn it over again, fold it."

"Easy there, Luke. I'm old." Warren laughed, his hands fumbling to keep up with the boy's agile movements.

Luke snorted, but held back a smile. "You're slow, Warren."

"Hey, that was unnecessary." He made a playfully offended expression.

"Now just this one more and it's done!" Luke showed off his perfectly aligned frog, proud.

"Congratulations, honey!" You clapped your hands, amazed at your son's work. “It looks exactly like a frog. Good job.”

Warren looked at his origami, then at Luke’s. He held up his creation—a crumpled, shapeless ball—and raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, it looks just like mine.”

Luke laughed loudly. You put your hand over your mouth, trying to hold back your laughter too. “Sorry, Warren. It’s just so funny.”

“It looks like a frog that got run over!” Luke laughed, placing his hands on his stomach.

“I know, I know. I should’ve seen that coming. You two are against me.” Warren sighed dramatically, tossing the paper ball aside. “It’s definitely not for me. I’ll leave that to the little man and his super smart mom.”

But even though he failed miserably at origami, the smile on his face seemed genuine for the first time in a week.

“You don’t pay attention either, Warren Sillyka!” Luke laughed, sticking his tongue out at Warren.

“Did you see that?” Warren raised an eyebrow at you, pointing indignantly at the boy. “The kid just gave me tongue!” And without thinking twice, he returned the gesture.

"Hey!" Luke protested, grimacing and pulling the corners of his mouth with his fingers.

"Now, you little criminal..." Warren narrowed his eyes before standing up, his hands ready to attack with tickles.

"No, stop! Stop!" Luke squirmed, laughing as he tried to escape. Warren, however, was faster, grabbing him easily and lifting him in his arms, swinging him from side to side.

"Serious infraction, young man!" Warren mocked, holding Luke tightly. "You have the right to remain silent! Hands where I can see them!"

"Never!" Luke challenged, laughing loudly, clearly enjoying the joke. "I will not give in to you, Sillyka."

"Oh, then let's go again." Warren took a deep breath and threw the boy slightly in the air before catching him again, eliciting more laughter. "What now? I’ll only let you go with an apology!’

You watched them, the scene unfolding before your eyes like something you never imagined you would see. Your son laughing freely, sharing such pure happiness with someone other than you. Warren holding him in his arms felt... right. Like this was where Luke was always supposed to be.

The laughter escaped your lips before you could stop it. And when Warren and Luke looked at you, your laughter turned into something else—louder, looser, more genuine. Your eyes grew teary, but not just from laughter. The emotions inside you bubbled up in a way they didn’t know how to express, that you had kept locked away under lock and key deep in your heart for many, many years.

"No... don't look at me." You tried to contain your laughter, quickly wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. "Keep going..."

"Mommy?" Luke frowned, his joy turning to instant concern.

Warren noticed the same and quickly put the boy down before approaching you.

"Mommy, are you okay?"

You took a deep breath, blinking a few times to hold back the tears. "Yes, my baby... I am." You smiled, even though your voice shook a little. "I'm just happy." It was true. Partially, at least. "Can you go to the storage room and get me a tissue?"

Luke hesitated, still suspicious, but nodded. "Yeah." And then he left, looking back one last time before disappearing down the hallway.

The moment the door closed, the barrier you were trying to hold collapsed. A sob escaped your throat, followed by an uncontrolled sob.

"I'm sorry." You buried your face in your hands, unable to stop the wave of emotion.

Warren's heart clenched, and before you knew it, he was kneeling in front of you, his arms wrapped around your shoulders in a firm embrace.

He didn't say anything. He just stood there.

Your face buried in his neck, your hands clutching the fabric of his uniform, feeling the heat of his body as you cried without reserve.

“I'm here. Shh..." Warren murmured against your hair, stroking your back in slow circles. "I'm here."

"I'm soaking your clothes…”

"Fuck it. I'll wash them when I get home."

He slid his fingers through your hair, brushing his lips gently against your temple, a silent gesture of comfort. Your breathing began to calm, still shaky, but less suffocating. You sniffed and pulled away slightly, staring at his face so close to yours. The way he looked at you... calm, steady. Like a beacon in the middle of your storm, guiding you back.

"I forget how incredibly perceptive he is." Your voice still cracked. "He always knows when I'm not okay. I can't hide anything from him."

Warren smiled weakly, running his hand over your wet face, brushing away the remnants of your tears with his thumb.

"You don't have to hide it from me either." He said softly, then leaned down, still on his knees, to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Don't hide anything from me."

The door swung open.

"Here, Mom! I got it." Luke came running back, holding the box of tissues. "Sorry I took so long. It was really highI had to grab a chair to get up. But I didn't drop anything."

You let out a shaky laugh, accepting the tissues and opening your arms to him. Luke fit into the hug without hesitation. You looked at Warren over your son's head, his gaze full of gratitude.

"Well... I guess I'll be going now." Warren mumbled, standing up slowly.

"Where to?" You asked, grabbing a tissue and blowing your nose. "Leaving already?"

"To the cashier. It's my turn." He smiled weakly, watching Luke grab another tissue for you. "Take care of your mom, okay?"

"I'll do it." Luke nodded with the seriousness of someone who takes the mission seriously. He held the trash can for you to dispose of the tissues. "It'll be okay, Mommy."

You smiled, tightening your arms around your son. "I know it will, my baby. Thank you.

" Warren took slow steps towards the door, almost hesitantly. You watched him go, feeling a tightness in your chest as you watched him walk away.

"See you later." He paused for a brief second, turning just enough to look you in the eyes.

"See you..."

…

Warren turned the "Closed" sign on the door, taking one last look at the street before returning to the cash register and writing down the day's records. You always dropped Luke off before five, so you'd be back soon. He wanted to get everything done early to make his job easier.

After reviewing the checklist, he went to his office and left the paper on his desk. When he returned to the cash register, he heard the door open and looked up in time to see you come in. You walked over to him with a small smile on your lips.

"You look happy." He commented, resting his hands on the counter.

"I just found the perfect dress for Daniel's wedding." You said, leaning a little on the counter.

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow, Saturday."

You walked around the counter, stopping next to him. "Do you have an outfit yet?"

"I have that damn thing I wore on my first day here. Will that fit?" Warren asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and crossing his arms.

"It'll do. It's perfect." You replied, placing your hands on your hips. "I can't wait to show you."

"The dress?" He raised an eyebrow, and you nodded. "I want to see it too. What color is it? No, wait... Isn't that bad luck?"

"What?"

"To know what the woman will wear on her wedding day." He explained, confused. You let out a laugh.

"No, Warren." He blinked, waiting for the explanation. "That's only for the bride. You can know."

"Oh... sorry. I've never been to a wedding before." He confessed, relaxing his arms. "Are you excited?"

"Nervous." You admitted, leaning against the counter. "I don't know how I'm going to react."

"I'll be there." Warren comforted. "Do I have permission to punch him if he messes up with Luke?"

"Luke isn't going. It's at night. It starts at eight, but these things always take a while. I don't want him to stay up until the early hours of the morning."

"So it's just going to be the two of us?"

The question came with a subtle but noticeable tone of curiosity.

"Yes." You nodded, feeling an unexpected nervousness grow in your chest.

"Do you want me to pick you up?" He asked, and there was something else in his voice—a hint of expectation.

"Yes, it's okay. I was just going to drop Luke off at his friend's house and come back to get ready."

"Deal. I'll stop by at seven-thirty?"

"Seven-thirty is fine." You nodded, crossing your arms. He held your gaze for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but he just smiled sideways.

"Shall we go out? It's closing time, and I don't want anyone knocking here." You changed the subject, walking to the door.

"Good idea." Warren grabbed his keys and followed you out, locking the store behind you.

Warren scanned the street, frowning slightly when he noticed one of the streetlights flickering, casting irregular shadows across the sidewalk. The silence of the night seemed to drag on with the cold wind.

"So... is it okay to walk home in this darkness?"

"Yeah, I always walk back after work." You answered matter-of-factly, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

He let out a short sigh, pulling the iron to cover the store window. "This isn't good."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as he locked the door. "Since when did walking two streets over become a problem?"

"Since always. Anyone can run into the wrong person." He turned to you, glaring firmly.

"No problem. If anything happens, I'll scream and run." You joked, shrugging.

Warren chuckled and shook his head before approaching. With his hands firmly on his waist, he tilted his face, his eyes assessing you up and down.

“Come on. I’ll take you.” You hesitated for a moment, but ended up nodding and starting to walk. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Going home?” You pointed to the end of the street.

“No. Get in the car.” He patted the hood of the vehicle twice with a half smile.

“It’s only two streets.”

“And I don’t know who’s coming around the corner. Do you know?”

“You’re so worried.”

“Baby, after you go to jail, even your neighbors are suspicious.” He joked, unlocking the doors. “Maybe you have your own criminal record and I’m here all by myself thinking I’m safe and sound.”

You smiled, getting in the car. “And what would my crime be?”

Warren started the engine and pulled out of the space, his eyes narrowing as if he was evaluating the response.

“Murder, for sure. In cold blood, plain daylight.” He teased, turning the steering wheel to enter the avenue. “Maybe poisoning.”

“And why?”

He gave you a quick glance before turning his attention back to the road.

“Because you have this innocent woman look, all pretty, cute eyes who make men fall in love at first sight… the perfect stereotype.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “When I least expect it, I’ll wake up in an ice bath.”

You gave a short laugh and lightly pushed his shoulder. “How awful, Warren. I’d never kill you.”

“I don’t know… what if one day I make you angry?”

He turned onto your street and parked in front of your house. The engine purred softly before being turned off. Silence filled the car.

“Then I don’t know…” you teased, biting your lip as you pretended to think.

Warren chuckled softly and shook his head. “See? That’s what I’m talking about.”

“See you tomorrow.” You said, unbuckling your seatbelt.

But before you could reach for the door handle, you hesitated.

“Warren.”

He turned to face you, leaning in slightly. “Yeah?” His voice was lower, as if he already knew what was coming.

You hesitated for a second, your gaze locked on his lips. Your heart raced as your bodies leaned almost instinctively toward each other. Your hot breath mingled in the small space between you. But at the last moment, you pulled back, looking away.

“Nothing…”

“Fuck, stop saying it’s nothing.” Warren grumbled, letting out a short sigh before unbuckling his belt and cupping your face with his warm hands, pulling you into an unexpected kiss.

The touch was intense, a mix of urgency and pent-up desire. Your fingers tightened the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer, opening your mouth for more of what you craved so much.

When you pulled away, a mischievous smile played on his lips. You smiled, still feeling his breath against your skin, your mouth damp from the trace of what had happened.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, trying to pull away, but he pulled you back, deepening the kiss without hesitation.

This time, you moaned against his lips and released his belt, seeking more proximity. Warren slid his hand under your shirt, pulling your waist closer and feeling the soft skin against his touch. His other hand went to the back of your neck, his fingers intertwining in your hair as the kiss grew more intense.

Time seemed to have stopped. You turned your body so that he had more access, your hand touching his face, the hairs of his growing beard prickling your skin, brushing against your chin. It stung, but it felt so damn good. When air became a necessity, you pulled away with a silly smile, your eyes shining under the dim light of the streetlamp.

“You’re very welcome.” Warren murmured, his eyes fixed on your mouth, his fingers lightly brushing your skin as if he still didn’t want to let go.

You smiled and looked away, opening the door.

“See you tomorrow, Warren.”

“Why?”

“I’m in front of my house.” You laughed softly.

Before you could leave, he pulled your hand and stole one last kiss.

“Just one more.” He murmured against your lips, sealing them once more. You smiled against his mouth before finally leaving.

Warren waited until you got in and closed the door to start the car. He licked his lips, capturing your trail. He frowned, smelling a strange smell in the air. Looking around, he decided to look at his pants and...

“Shit, Warren. What’s wrong with you?” He groaned in disgust, seeing his own situation. His jeans were darker, damp, soft. “I can’t believe this. One kiss! One kiss! I’m so fucked up. That’s the ending.”

Disgusted, he just decided to go home as soon as possible to resolve the outcome of the little moment between you. Even though he was uncomfortable with the sticky feeling between his legs, the satisfied smile didn’t leave his face.

And it didn’t leave throughout the entire night.

#warren lipka x y/n #warren lipka x you #warren lipka x reader #warren lipka #imagine #x reader #reader insert #fanfic #evan peters #evan peters fandom #evan peters x reader #evan peters x you #evan peters x y/n #american animals

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kingtomura · 1 year ago

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Vitality | 3

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home. Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you. All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, found family LoV, mdni wc: 4.8k | prev | chapter 4 | m. list | read on ao3

Sometimes days can pass by pretty slowly in the League. It takes time for a good plan to come together.

Today is one of those days.

You’re sitting at the bar, fiddling with your given phone and customizing the home screen when someone slaps a paper down on the counter, startling you from your task.

You glance up and of course, it’s Shigaraki. It’s hard to fight the eye roll, loaded and ready, but you do — the photo on the paper catches your eye instantly.

All too familiar eyes meet yours.

Same hair, same nose, same mouth.

It’s you.

Your eyes widen as you glide over the words printed above your photo.

Missing Person.

You feel the pricks of panic trail its way up your spine as you read the words below your photo.

Have you seen me?

There was no way.

“Where did you get this?” Your voice feels foreign as you fall into the sinking feeling in your chest, the anxiety is beginning to spread throughout your mind and it is taking a lot to remain still. Even though it feels like an impossible task, you try to calm your rapid breathing, hoping that this was some kind of sick joke.

Shigaraki just shrugs, watching your every move as he takes his own seat in the barstool next to you. “All over. These posters are everywhere right now.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “What…”

“I didn’t know your father was the lead detective over the city.” His tone is light and airy as he taps at his phone. Shigaraki’s concentration is deep in the search, but his movements are relaxed — too relaxed for your liking. “That’s impressive.”

Shigaraki seems to find what he is looking for as he turns the phone in your direction. A news article with your face below the headline.

“He’s staging it as a break and enter gone wrong,” he continues, “said they knocked him out and took you away. He’s been in the hospital recovering for a few weeks now.”

You are rendered speechless. He is not dead. Your father is alive and well and he is looking for you.

“Wanna see the press conference?” Shigaraki’s question rings in your ears as he holds the screen up to your face, pinky and index fingers extended as the others clutch the device.

You don’t, but you can’t bring yourself to speak, nor could you shake your head and deny. A morbid curiosity within you wants to see though. It wants to know everything happening outside of these walls.

Shigaraki is pulling the screen up before you could refuse — taking your shell shocked silence as permission.

(Maybe he knew, deep down, that you wanted to see, to know your reality in its entirety.)

Sure enough, there was your father — bandages wrapped around his head and in his detective uniform you knew so well. He stood at a podium, two of his colleagues beside him as he read off of a paper in front of him.

Your father speaks of criminals and senseless violence, he speaks of the injustice done to him and his family and how he will work day and night to make sure those responsible will pay and that you will be brought home safe and sound.

It’s so heartfelt you almost believe it.

If it weren't complete bullshit.

You knew the truth. You know exactly what happened that night and how it all went down.

He is a monster in his own right. One that puts on a front of the caring guardian, but you know so much better.

The truth of it all makes you nauseous.

“And to my precious daughter,” his voice rings through the speakers of the phone, “We will find you and we will bring you home. That’s a promise.”

The video ends there and the screen goes black, revealing your own troubled reflection in the glass.

“He’s going to find me,” your voice shakes as Shigaraki locks the phone and slides it back into his pocket, “I don't have long.”

“He won’t.” Shigaraki is unbothered, crossing his arms with a tilt of his head.

You shake your head, knowing your father all too well.

He is thorough in everything he does and he would leave no stone unturned until he finds you and brings you home. That cursed home you would never set foot in again. The one that haunts your dreams.

There's heat burning at your eyes and you realize it's the sting of tears. You couldn’t cry here, not in front of villains — in front of your leader of all people. It's humiliating.

“He will! It's only a matter of time.” Bringing a hand to your chest, you fist the fabric of your shirt, wishing it could be your heart, open and able to be ripped out of your chest just so you could stop the rapid beating—

“Let them look, but they won't find you.” His voice is calm, rational. It's certain in ways you weren't sure you could believe. “You’re with the league now — we won't let anything happen to you.”

It’s hard to believe when your face is plastered on everything. When a huge search and rescue effort is being made and for all the public knows, you were being held somewhere against your will, subject to all kinds of torture.

It couldn’t be further from the truth.

You can only watch as Shigaraki stands from his seat, exhaling sigh on his lips as he waves you off. Clearly he had other places to be and other things to do.

“It’s getting late, you should get some rest.” he offers, and you note that it's barely nightfall, but say nothing. Lost in a daze as you stare at your feet, tears threatening to fall and humiliate you further.

“Kurogiri.” Shigaraki commands and the apparition nods, opening a warp gate. You can tell by the familiar bedding beyond the portal that it leads to your room.

“We will keep an eye on the situation and make further plans tomorrow.” He announces passively as he walks off, passing by the warp gate and leaving through the door.

The gate will save you a trip of walking through the borderline endless tunnels, and you’re grateful. All you wanted was the safety of your room.

You waste no time walking through and sighing in relief as the portal closes behind you.

There was no chance of anyone coming into your room here, but you move to lock your door anyway — the extra layer of security makes you feel safe.

Your mind swam in the overwhelming feelings, drowning your thoughts in fear and anxiety.

It just couldn’t be. The idea of killing your father was beginning to sound much more manageable than the reality.

And his press conference?

The bed greets you with its comfort and you bury your face into your hands, tears finally escaping and sobs fighting their way through your staggered breaths.

It was all bullshit.

The break and enter, the kidnapping and the promise of finding you.

He wants you back, but not for a friendly reunion. No, the day he finds you again will be the day you are better off dead.

Everything else said is just fluff for the media and crowd.

But you knew better. It is an intimidation tactic for you.

A way to weed out the possibilities of hiding with a good civilian. Any good civilian would take their chance to bring you back to your seemingly loving home and surely loving father. It was a chance for an ordinary person to be a hero and reunite family together from a tragic event.

Bullshit.

The man is abusive. In every way possible and he will take advantage of any benefit given to him. He was nothing more than a shady cop who just so happened to play his cards right and work his way to the top of the food chain.

The idea of someone so cruel being on a team of detectives makes your stomach curl as the sobs you so desperately held tight echo throughout your small room.

It's just not fair.

Why should you have to pay the price for wanting freedom?

The question haunts you as you lie your head down onto the pillows, quiet gasps of your easing sobs filling the room. Your new blankets have always seemed warmer than the ones from your old home. You hold them tight and pray that Shigaraki is good on his word and strong in his promises.

If they cannot find the most wanted criminal in the country then there was no doubt they would not find a missing girl.

You would have to place your faith into this group. It’s the only thing you can do for now and the uncertainty of it all only makes you feel worse.

The uncertainty of it all weighs on your mind as you pray your troubled thoughts won’t catch up to you in the form of nightmares.

———

The meeting of the day is brief and to the point.

Since the media is plastering your face everywhere, it is best for you to stay back at the base. It's not much different from what you had been doing, but still informative for the other members around you.

However, after the meeting you run into a small problem.

A small, blonde and enthusiastic problem.

“Just come with me, please!” Toga is loud as she bounces in place with her fists clenched in excitement. The wild smile on her face makes you take a small step back from her. “It won't take long!”

She was so young, but so… odd. You weren't sure what to make of her. “They just told us I can’t leave.”

“It’s not out in the open! Let me show you!”

You sigh and look around, no one is paying any attention to this scene Toga is causing, which leads you to believe that this must be a common occurrence for her.

Even Shigaraki gives no reaction, only focused on his newspaper and you assume it must not be much of a problem if he doesn’t care.

Well, if he doesn’t see a problem in Toga dragging you around, then you suppose it can’t be that bad. Reluctantly, you shrug and agree.

Toga does not hide her excitement, cheering and waving to Kurogiri.

“Kurogiri! Will you do the honors, please?” She asks the man behind the counter and he agrees, opening a gate and Toga wastes no time grabbing your hand, pulling you through.

The gate leads you to an empty field. So much for not being out in the open.

There’s a sinking feeling of unease making itself present as Toga lets your hand go.

It lingers as she walks on, fully expecting you to follow her along to wherever she deemed so important to show you. Against your better judgment, you follow her, believing in your heart that you were both in the League so there was no reason not to trust her.

But…

The entire situation is odd. Even as you look around the field and see that it is as vast as it is empty, you know that something is off. The girl only hums a tune, completely content with leading you nowhere.

“Hey, healer,” Toga starts, continuing her pace ahead as you begin to lag behind — your thoughts catching up with you and making you slow.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever dream?”

The question makes your brows furrow as you watch from a distance. She seemed so carefree.

It makes you ponder as you find the words to respond, “No, not really. If I do, I won’t remember them.”

You may not dream, but you do have nightmares from time to time.

They haunt you when you least expect it, but you would rather not share that with a girl who made venomous snakes look good on a bad day. Instead you try to focus on what’s around you. The field is as green as it is empty, and it only makes you wonder more why you were brought out here — wherever ‘here’ even was in the first place.

It’s all unusual.

You look back at the girl and notice she’s stopped walking, causing you to catch up with her.

“Hey, Toga, where are we going anyw—“

Your words are cut short as she turns on you, the silver gleam of a knife in her hand now against your throat.

“I dream, too! But I remember mine,” Her eyes are glassy as she smiles in delight, the look on her face makes you more on edge than the knife against your throat. “I dream of a world I can live freely in. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

The question sounds rhetorical but you bring yourself to nod anyway, swallowing your fear and you can't help but wonder what deity you’ve pissed off to have ended up in this situation.

She pulls the knife back and it feels like you can breathe again, only to be put back on edge as she lunges towards you.

It’s a reflex, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and bring your arms up to defend yourself from an oncoming attack, but you do. Only to be met with nothingness.

Toga presses a hand to your shoulder, using the momentum she gained to jump up and over your head.

The action makes you pause, but you don’t get any time to question as the swift print of a shoe kicks you right in the back, making you fall to your knees onto the ground.

You feel it then, the unease you’ve noticed since walking through the warp gate.

You are weak.

You are small and fragile and it burns at your throat as you grit your teeth in frustration. The idea of being taken down by a child is so fucking frustrating it makes you sick.

The press of Toga's shoe against your back feels like it holds the weight of the world within it.

Every ounce of inadequacy falls upon your back as you curse under your breath. But just as soon as the weight is there, it is gone. Lifted away as she comes to stand in front of you — extending a hand with a smile no longer wicked, but warm.

“Living in this world is hard, you know? It looks like it’s been hard for you too.”

Her words make you still, your eyes meeting Toga’s hand and then dragging up to meet her eyes as well. You decide to take her hand in yours, allowing her to help you to your feet, even though you are still wary of her movements.

“To me, you’re like… a caged bird.” She continues, making a point to keep your hand in hers. “But now you’ve opened the cage and you still won’t fly! That just won’t do.”

It’s difficult to place this feeling in your chest, this string tugging at your heart as you purse your lips, unable to speak as she goes on.

“I love the league. It’s my home. The one place where I can truly be free and do whatever I want.” She looks far away as she speaks, eyes staring off at the now setting sun, illuminating the field in orange and pink hues as she smiles fondly. “I love Jin and Dabi and even Tomura! They’re my friends.”

Her attention is back on you as she brings her hands to your face, cradling your cheeks in her small palms like you were the one needing comfort and not the other way around.

“And I love you, too, little bird!” Toga pulls you into a hug then and it is as warm as it is strange. The action shocks you still, you can’t recall the last time you had been hugged. “I’ll help you fight.”

Toga’s voice is soft as she continues, words dripping with honesty, “The League will help you spread your wings. You’ll fly with us.”

You lean into her touch and think maybe, just maybe, you’re right where you need to be.

———

The scene to greet you both at the bar is a strange one. It makes you raise a questioning brow as you walk through the warp gates.

A rare sight of Spinner and Shigaraki, in a deep discussion, that is somewhat shy of an argument over what seemed to be a video game.

“No, no, no! He is not the best at that! It’s Little Mac!” Spinner is at the counter of the bar, seated next to Shigaraki, his scaled fingers jabbing into the counter beside them.

Shigaraki seems unbothered, an assessment you can only make by the posture he held and relaxed form. You couldn’t make out any kind of expression behind the hand covering his face.

“That’s dumb. He’s easily countered by Ness.” He supplies and this answer only seems to frustrate Spinner more. The latter groaning and desperately pleading his case.

You can’t help the way a smile tugs at your lips as you walk towards the counter yourself, hoping Kurogiri would supply you with more of that fizzy clear soda you enjoyed.

“Hey, healer!” Spinner calls, making you snap your head towards him. “Tell him! Little Mac could beat any competitor with no trouble if you’re skilled enough at playing him!”

You fight the frown making its way onto your face. “Um…” This was about a game, you’re sure but the name of it eludes you. “Is this that fighting game that came out a while ago?”

Spinner is enthusiastic as he nods, just happy you recognize it. “Yes!”

“Oh, um,” your brows furrow as you try to remember the details of it, but it’s fuzzy in your mind. “I don’t really remember much, but I always played as the character with the blue dress. My father said games like that rot your brain, though, so he took the console before I could really get good at it, sorry.”

The memory makes you huff a bitter laugh, mood souring at the idea of a fun game potentially ruining your young mind. “Gotta make sure dad’s keep their daughters’ undivided attention at all times, right?”

The comment was more towards yourself — thinking out loud, really. But the feeling of all eyes on you makes you look up.

You feel like you’ve said something wrong with the way you feel the eyes on you. Even when you let out a small awkward laugh to break the tension it remains. It makes your stomach turn as you are constantly reminded of your unusual upbringing.

Spinner speaks first, with a look of genuine worry on his face. “That’s… not normal. Why would he do that?”

“Um, I’m not sure.” You walk past the group, forgoing the soda and instead choosing to head straight for the tunnels, eager to get out of there and more than ready to shower and go to bed. “But I think I’ll head in for the night.”

It’s a feeling you can’t outrun, you realize as you sit in the shower of the bathroom — allowing the water to run over your body and you watch as it flows down the drain.

You wish so badly things were different. That you could have been a normal child with a normal upbringing and a normal life.

But that just hadn’t been in the cards for you.

You tuck your head down into your hands as your thoughts spun around you. Toga's words invade your mind, swimming around in your head and you agree with them.

You were just like a caged bird.

And even though that door is open, you know exactly what lies outside of it. You know exactly who is watching and waiting for you to take the bait, to come out and risk capture again. The repercussions of escape this time may be much more dire than before and you just couldn’t take that chance.

The warm water of the shower masked the tears running down your face, but nothing could cover the burn of them. The way they sting at your eyes as you fight to maintain composure.

You know exactly why your father took the console from you. Some shitty reasoning lying beneath the real issue of how much attention you were putting towards it instead of towards him.

It was bullshit.

It makes you feel sick.

—------------

Everything feels more peaceful at night.

It’s a comfort you didn’t expect to find here in the league but it is a welcomed one.

The days can feel long but the nights are calm. Even though more than a few of the members are working throughout the night, you are safe to relax and enjoy them. You’ve even started filling your bookshelves. It’s only three books for now but they keep you entertained.

Even when your leader pays you a visit, you don't feel afraid.

Tonight Shigaraki is your patient and he is as quiet as the night. The lack of disembodied hand daunting his face is obvious as the pale moonlight lit the room — bathing his natural features in a soft light.

You’ve learned that there seems to be more than meets the eye when it comes to Shigaraki.

He never asked more than he needed to know, his eyes never lingered.

Tomura Shigaraki had goals and his focus was undoubtedly on them at all times. It made you feel… safe. Like you weren’t a burden indebted to him. Like you had autonomy.

Never anything you had at home.

No one in the league really bothered you or impeded into your space. It was refreshing. It’s why you feel the boldness within you that gives you the strength to ask,

“Why did you send Toga to train me?”

The question breaks through the stillness of the room, catching Shigaraki by surprise, but his expression stays neutral — only opting to raise his eyes from the ground and meeting yours.

The question seems to pull him from his own deep thoughts. His eyes were carmine red and they seemed to glow in the light of the moon. The intensity of them makes you want to shy away.

“She seemed like a good fit.”

“Is it because she’s a girl?” You feel emboldened in the space of your room. The door, forever cracked, allows more light to bleed into the area.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s because she can fight.”

Silence.

You move to heal the next area, a cut along his arm. He went out into the field today and didn’t come back unscathed.

“Does that bother you?” His question surprises you and it shows on your face.

You shake your head, it doesn’t. “No, it’s fine.”

He hums in acknowledgment. There’s an awkward air to the space now, but you’re sure it’s only on your end. Your nerves prickle as you work on his arm, past his deadly palms.

“She did pull a knife on me though.”

“That damn brat.” He huffs a little sigh. “She wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, I figured that out after. Shook me a little though.” You pause taking in the calm of the room. “Thank you.”

He looks surprised, the small tick of his brow giving the expression away.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said… and my father.” You look down, focusing your gaze along the arm you’re healing. His skin is so pale. You were so close. “I never thought I would get the chance to stand against him, or even fight him. But… I want to be able to if it comes down to that.”

Shigaraki says nothing and you aren’t sure he’s even heard you, yet you go on, speaking the most you have since you’ve gotten here. “I think in any situation, I want to be strong. I want to try to stand on my own. Working with Toga is a good choice, I believe.”

You swallow, nerves catching up to you and it’s a wonder you’ve said this much. You don’t know where these words are coming from, but you can’t help but wonder if you should have probably kept them to yourself.

“That’s good to know.”

His voice surprises you, causing your eyes to look up and meet vermillion. It sends heat spreading along your face and you feel stuck — frozen in place as his gaze locks you into a trance.

Shigaraki is not bad to look at once he no longer had his face fully covered. You can’t help but wonder if it’s inappropriate to think of your leader as cute. Handsome, even.

Lately he has shown you something akin to kindness, but you know better than to let your guard down. He is still a villain. A villain with goals of taking down society.

But…

He could be kind. You feel desperate to find some kind of connection in this new world you’ve found yourself in. You’re not sure what pulls you towards your leader — be it the promise of safety or guidance it just does.

You break out of the trance you’d found yourself in moving along to the battered bruises along his upper arm.

“Also… is Spinner always like that?” The question falls and the corner of your mouth ticks up in a small smile.

This piques his interest. “Like what?”

“Nerdy. Ecstatic about video games.”

Shigaraki huffs a laugh, barely there and light. A blow of air from his nose and nothing more. “Yeah. He’s kind of a weirdo.”

You laugh at this, words falling before your brain can catch them. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

You instantly regret it, freezing your motions and wondering if you’ve made a mistake.

Shigaraki actually laughs. It’s short and shallow and rings in your ears. You decide you like it and would do anything to hear more of it. “Yeah, well, it takes one to know one.”

It’s silly, really. The way you would take any crumbs of generosity after years of the opposite. Years of violation and violence can never compare to consistent kindness and respect.

When you feel your cheeks flush at the sound of Shigaraki’s laugh you feel strange. The feeling makes you remember a quote you had read from one of your mother’s old poetry books.

Something about silver spoons and knives.

But still, you want to indulge the feeling.

“Hey, Shigaraki?”

He hums in acknowledgment, eyes meeting yours again. It makes you focus on anything else, the ground is your subject for now.

“Do you think the investigation will go anywhere?”

“No, they have nothing in their corner.” He’s confident, and continues, “guys like that are full of shit.”

The bluntness surprises you, though it's not unwelcome. “You think so?”

He scoffs at this, “Yeah, it’s all for show. There are no criminals and he’s hiding something deeper behind the pretense of you going missing. If they dug closer into the issue, they would find his lies. He wouldn’t want that.”

You nod in agreement, and for the first time you feel yourself relax a little. Shigaraki was not only sure, but he had the reasoning to back it up. The confidence made you feel warm — glad you were not in this alone.

“Got anything else for me?” You ask, the hint of a smile sneaking onto your lips as you finish your healing. Shigaraki shrugs, shaking his head as he moves to stand.

You don’t know how you hadn’t seen it before but there’s a bandage around his hand. Wrapped tight and kind of sloppy, you reach for it before you think about it, your innate need to help bleeding through at the worst times.

This was perhaps the first mistake you’ve made since joining the league.

Shigaraki’s reaction tells it all. His movements are fast and sharp.

The way he recoils from your touch makes you think you’ve burned him. Shigaraki is on his feet in an instant, knocking the chair he previously sat on backwards and sending it tumbling to the ground.

Your eyes widen in shock as you try to reach out again, an apology quick on your lips, but he’s far away from you now — more than an arms length away and ready to put more distance between you two.

“Don’t,” his voice is low and his glare is sharp, if you didn’t know any better you would think the rise and fall of his chest was from panic instead of anger. “Don’t touch me.”

It hits you then and you curse your carelessness.

His hands.

You almost touched his hands, without a care in the world — just wanting to help your leader out and fully heal whatever you could.

You were so close to danger, so careless.

“Shigaraki, I—” You don’t get to finish your thoughts, already lost to the open and slam of your bedroom door. The air of the room is quiet and still, the only reminder of his presence being the overturned chair left behind.

The silence rings in your ears as the distressed expression on Shigaraki’s face replays in your mind. For someone supposedly so cold to react so strongly to the smallest possibility of accidentally activating his quirk makes you wonder what else lies beneath your leader's layers.

It makes you wonder just who Tomura Shigaraki is.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #my works #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha fanfiction #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you

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emo-trash101 · 1 year ago

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hiya ! its 🦈 anon

Could I req the male reader x drunk stone but instead its switched? ((oneshot, btw)) stone having to take care of drunk reader 💀

take your time + no pressure! have a good day/noon/evening :)

- 🦈 anon

Yay, I missed youuu! And yes ofc I would love to do that! Also sorry this took so long to post 😭😭

Alcohol Tastes Better Than Tears

Stone x Drunk! Reader

Pronouns: second person, gender neutral

Word count: 575

Tw: Alcohol, vomit

Today sucks. In fact, you've had a terrible day. First you blow the whole robbery on your own, and then you can't even steal an apple to make your friends feel remotely better about how horrible you've done. You've given up on being good at anything at this point.

You look down at your hand, staring at the bottle Stone handed you after the heist. You think he just felt bad and wanted to do something nice? But it honestly made you just feel worse. You feel so terrible that not even alcohol could fix it. Well it wouldn't hurt to try you think to yourself and before you know it you're putting the bottle up to the lips and taking a small sip.

That one sip turned into 2 sips, then 3 sips, then 4. Then that turned into you barely holding an empty bottle and trying to prop yourself up on the wall of whatever building you were next to. Your eyes flutter shut softly, as exhaustion hits you like a fright train with a vendetta.

You wake up to the clatter of a bottle and a male voice going "God...what the hell happened to you?". You force your eyes open and lay your eyes upon...an emo? "Whaa~...?" You say, trying to sit up more properly. All you hear in return is a sigh and a crisp "You're drunk". The man leans down to try to help you up before you push him away. "I dont evin know u" You say, your words slurring very aggressively.

"Oh god...my names Stone, we're...friends." He says, the worst friends looking like it's paining him to say, "I'm taking you back to the others".

That led to him trying to lift you up even slightly, which sounded almost completely impossible because your entire body felt like it was filled with lead. But eventually after you almost falling on your ass several times, he was finally able to force you up and being semi able to walk.

"I feel gross..." You say, leaning against Stone as he leads you through the streets. You hadn't even realized it got this dark. "Please don't vomit on me." He says, and almost on cue, you bed over and vomit. "Bloody hell..." He says, trying to prop you upright and continue to drag you away.

After about an hour of him dragging you after you vomiting (because he has the body strength of a malnourished owl) you both finally reach the alleyway, where he essentially drops you on the ground and you immediately pass out. As he grabs a nearby rag and places it on you, Vinnie leans against a wall. "Stone, is that really a good way to treat your crush?" She says smirking to herself.

He glares at her aggressively before speaking "They're not my crush." he says angrily. He stands upright and looks at her. "I'm just teasing, make sure you don't stay up late lovebirds." she says, the last part barely audible and then walks away.

He sighs and sits down next to your unconscious body, glancing down at you to make sure you're still breathing. Maybe...maybe I should tell them he thinks to himself before looking at the ground and noticing, something on his shoes. "IS THAT FUCKING VOMIT!"

Idk if this is any good, but I hope it is 😭

#ramshackle #stone ramshackle #stone x reader ramshackle #ramshackle x reader #I'm not sure if I portrayed drunkess properly #it's a talent atp #🦈 anon

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catiecat1320 · 7 months ago

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Sonadowtober Prompt 13: Alternate Era

Sonic finds himself back in the world of Camelot... with Shadow tagging along

SatBK story! Not particularly proud of this one, but it'll have to do

Read Below 🔽

“WHOAAAA—!”

Sonic didn’t expect to be falling, again. It’s like he can’t keep his face out of the dirt for a day, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut as he prepares for impact.

That is, until his arm is nearly jerked out of its socket as someone latches onto his wrist, stopping him mid-fall.

“Good Gaia, Hedgehog. Do you not have an ounce of self preservation in your body?”

Shadow?

He’s never been tossed through a portal with someone else before, but he supposed it would make sense given they’d been racing.

The striped hedgehog slowly lowered them, his rocket skates countering gravity’s pull. “You are perfectly capable of landing safely by yourself, yet you choose to slam into the ground, face first, every time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Sonic grumbled. He didn’t have to be so mean about it.

“Do you know where we are?” Shadow asks as he places them on the ground, surveying their surroundings. It was a pretty nondescript patch of land, but Sonic had the almost magical ability to know where they are at all times. The perks of having run the world through at least a dozen times, he supposed.

“Uh, dude, we got dropped through a portal in the sky,” Sonic points out. “We could be in a whole new dimension, for all I know, why are you asking…? Wait, wait, wait.” He spins in a quick circle, the gears in his head turning like mad. “Portal in the sky… I know this place!”

Thought so. “Where are we?”

“In Camelot!” Sonic beams. “I’ve been here before!”

Shadow squints at him like he lost his head. “Camelot?”

“Yeah! From King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?”

“...We’re in a book,” the striped hedgehog deadpans, sure that the other is messing with him. But Sonic is perfectly unfazed by the impossibility of what he just said, seeming excited as he grabs Shadow’s arm and pulls him along.

“Yeah! Come on, I gotta show you—”

Shadow yanks his hand away, stopping Sonic in his tracks. “We can’t be in a book. Or a myth. King Arthur is a myth.”

A myth. There’s a moment of silence as they stare at each other, prodding at the unsaid. Sonic chooses not to tell the secret. Yet. “Dude, you’re literally part alien. I don’t think being in a book is the craziest thing to happen to you,” he says instead. “But if you’re shocked by that, you might wanna buckle up, because they get a lot crazier.”

That’s not exactly reassuring, but Shadow begrudgingly accepts. He lets Sonic lead the way, not bothering to ask where their destination was. He doubts the hedgehog would tell anyway. From his familiarity with their surroundings, he didn’t seem to be lying when he said he’s been here before.

But Shadow just can’t wrap his head around how or why they would be in Arthurian legend. They weren’t doing anything remotely related to it at all before a portal opened under their feet and spat them out here.

“We’re here!”

Shadow barely manages to avoid crashing into the blue hedgehog. “Where?” he mutters, if only to save face. But that didn’t seem to be needed, for Sonic’s attention was completely occupied by something else.

Or rather, someone else.

“Lance!”

A knight clad in armor turns toward them. Instantly, Shadow’s jaw drops, as does theirs. Sonic’s blissfully oblivious of their shock, or perhaps he’d expected it, excitedly bouncing over.

The knight drops to a knee upon their approach. They looked… like an exact copy of Shadow, right down to the bright red stripes in upturned quills. He was so occupied in this Lance’s similarity to him that he failed to consider why they would kneel in front of them. Or specifically Sonic.

Lance didn’t keep him ignorant for long. “Your Majesty.”

Shadow twitches. “...Your what?”

Sonic grins sheepishly as he motions for Lance to stand up, nervousness in his gestures. “I thought I said to call me Sonic.”

“Sire—” They’re cut off by Shadow, who’s interjection snaps Sonic’s attention back on him.

“What is this about? Why did he call you Your Majesty? That’s the title for monarchs.”

“Precisely,” Lance answers instead. They extend an armored hand at Sonic, as if introducing him. “His Majesty King Arthur, Wielder of Excalibur, Ruler of Camelot, Knight of the Wind.”

“Lancelot—! Don’t.” Sonic stammers. Despite the unconfidence in his voice, the knight stiffens at his order.

“Apologies, sire. It will not happen again.”

“Lance…”

“What the hell is going on?!” Both of them turn to Shadow, who feels like he’s going to explode with the amount of information being thrown at him. He stares Sonic in the eyes and points to his otherworldly doppelganger. “Lancelot.”

“...yes?”

“As in Sir Lancelot, Knight of the Lake.”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Why does he look exactly like me?”

“Uh…” Sonic pauses, tilting his head. “Dunno. He’s probably wondering that too. It’s just a thing here I guess.”

“What do you mean, it’s just a thing here?!” Shadow shouts, utterly confused in a way he hates. “You know what, forget that. When did you get knighted? When did you become king? King Arthur, no less? How is that even possible?”

“Um… I dunno. Last time I came here I pulled a sword from a stone, and after that whole adventure I was declared the true King Arthur. Makes no sense but the kingdom accepted it.”

“And you did too?”

“I mean, I kinda had to. I did kill their previous king.”

“You WHAT?!”

“Look—”

“Your M… Sonic,” Lancelot interrupts quietly. “Perhaps you and your guest should relocate somewhere more private?”

“I’m not his guest,” his counterpart snaps. Sonic waves his hand in front of Shadow’s face cartoonishly, as if it’d wipe what he said out of existence.

“Ignore Shadow, he’s always like that. We’ll find somewhere in the castle.” He then grabs his fuming rival’s arm and drags him along. They’re almost by the entrance when he turns back. “You wanna come, Lance?”

“...Certainly, sire.”

#sonadowtober #sonadowtober 2024 #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #satbk sir lancelot #satbk #sonic and the black knight #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #cross posted on ao3 #CatieCatWorks

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strayheartless · 25 days ago

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So... How about a Strifehart Beauty and the Beast AU?

Why you ask? well because I had the idea of, instead of Squall being the beast - as I feel most would assume - you have Cloud as the beast.

It would't follow the movie, simply because Cloud already has a bit of a beast story in his own right. However, the bare bones are essentially the same. Squall is a handsome single young man, living in Traverse town with his mad inventor adoptive father Cid Highwind. The two have been travelling in search of Cid's Husband and Squall's Sister and Biological father, only now they are having to settle in this quaint little dead end town because somebody (*Couch* Cid *Cough*) had a "pulminary event" and "Requires Rest".

It would be fine if there weren't so many judgy yet completely sexually fustrated people in this damn place! Squall is forever stuck between people who think he's broody and strange and therefore want to exclude him; or people who think he's broody and strange and therefore want to sleep with him. The Fact that Squall doesn'y get a say in either of these options is deeply fustrating.

One day the notion takes Cid to Ride out to the nearest City on the map (Radient Garden.) and see if there is any need for an inventor of his calibor there, even if its just to Get Squall away from that one prostitute in district two who keeps propositioning him. Squall Stays to mind the Items shop in his absense, spending his days either in the forge making weapons, or with his nose in a Weapons monthly magazine.

after about three weeks Squall gets uncomfortable with how long Cid has been gone and decides to take his own bike out to the Gardens to find the old coot. All the way there the feeling of unease grows as its obvious that Radient Garden's has long since fallen into abandoned disrepare. theres also the problem with the fact that he's almost certain he's being watched. Something keeps moving at the edges of his vision, and every now and then a silver flash will wave between the tree's, quick as the wind.

Then he see's it. The Large towering Castle that looks impossibly precarious looming there on the horizon.

Hollow Bastion.

Upon entering the Castle, Squall isnt met by centient furniture but talking animals. Theres the Lion cub twins Sora and Roxas, the grouchy Snow Lepord Riku, The unflappable doe Aerith and her fawn daughters Namine and Kairi, Tifa the black mare and her daughter Xion. Then there is the Alsatian Terra, the Blue Jay Aqua, The mouse Ventus and the... rather sullen Black Maine coon Vanitas. Finding out they talked had nearly sent Squall up the wall, thinking he'd gone mad, But Sora had tugged and at his hand gently with his mouth and led Squall to exactly where he needed to be. To Cid.

Strangly Cid has been given a bedroom rather than a cell, and a fire had been lit in the hearth. He has a a damp cloth over his forehead and a thick Blanket thrown over him to ward off any reamining chill he may be suffering. Squall is about to question the animals about it as he rushes to wash the tepid cloth and replace it, Checking Cids pulse just to be sure, but as he turns to adress Sora he is Shot through the heart with fear at the burning bright greeny blue eyes that glare at him from a deeply -almost unnatually- shadowed corner.

"you are a trespasser in this place," says the voice Squall assumes belongs to the terrifying eyes. It's smooth but low, almost rural in its accent. Not the kind of Voice you'd expect from a monster lurking in the shadows. Still, Squall dare not move, almost feeling pinned by those luminescent eyes.

"I came to find my father, nothing more. How was I to know he's been taken captive by you," Squall says, sounding braver than he feels. the animals Round him don't seem concerned by the creature with glowing eyes, and Squall is almost sure it's a creature because he can hear the rustling of... wings? the Maine Coon seems so unbothered by the creature of darkness, that he slunks over to sit on its lap and pur like a freight train.

"You came to Save your father, not knowing that you would damn yourself to eternal entrapment here. Tsk, and here I thought they taught you all of the horrors of hollow bastion in that little backwater town of yours," Was that... a note of self depricating sarcasm in its tone?

Squall is caught between curiosity and terror, but he's not so distracted that he can't use his brain. If this thing wanted to kill him, surely it would have done so the second he entered his domain. If it had any intention of killing Cid, why try to ease his fever? unless it didn't like sick food?

"Were you the thing watching me in the woods? The silver Flash I kept seeing?" that gets him a chorus of disgruntled and frightened chitters and growls. The creatures eyes seem to morph a quizzical gaze. The creak of leather and the tip of a pale fleshed nose lets Squall know the Creature has leaned forward in its seat.

"You saw the Demon of the Bastion on your way here and you are still breathing? I'd be impressed except I know how much that thing likes to play with his food,"

"There are two of you?" Riku acually hisses at Squall, who tries his abolute best to hold his ground.

"Cloud is nothing like that murderer!"

"hush Riku," The creature (Cloud?) drags out the hush in a way that should be serpentine except its more soothing, almost parental in nature.

"He killed my Mama!" Riku spits and whines.

"I know cub, I know"

Squall Can't help it, his curiosity wins out as he takes the candelabra from beside Cids bed and brings it forward to cast light upon this mysterious figure. What he see's is both horrifying and hypnotising in equal mesure.

A Wing Black as pitch and cast in leather that looked shot through with musket balls at its edges.

Sharp talons that grew from blackened, ink dipped, finger tips that curled over the arms of its chair.

cracking inky scars that grew from an open wound on an almost bare chest; the only thing Covering it an open silk shirt rusted with old blood.

And the most gorgeous face Squall has hever seen beset with two jewel like eyes that contracted and blew wide like cat's eyes as it... as He stared back.

This wasn't just some monster, just some beast.

It was a man.

#cloud strife #Sqaull Leonhart #strifehart #Kingdom hearts #Hollow Bastion #Kingdom hearts Characters #Sephiroth #Beauty and the beast AU #Convince me to write more this was fun #monster Cloud #human Squall #Beast Cloud #is that more accurate?????#Beauty Squall #Who's Riku's Mama?#Wouldn't you like to know!

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angelwheat · 11 months ago

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The Mundane and the Magic

༻ a codz x reader story ༺

➶ The Giant // ❝ Self-righteous Suicide ❞

➶ Chapter Six , 1336 words

Every clock strikes three in unison, followed by a resounding chime that signifies not a positive event, but rather a monotonous signal that Richtofen had just shot his future self point-blank in the face.

The German steps off the teleporter platform, his leather boots crushing the grit as he strides forward, his expression utterly impassive as he looks down upon his older self pooling in his own blood with sheer disgust for his dastardly ways. Despite feeling a sense of mental relief at having completed the first and most crucial step in securing the betterment of the universe, he is also pleased to have eliminated a lurking horror of a man he was supposedly destined to become from his conscience.

However, it seemed that only the German perceived the positive aspect of this vengeful deed. The others stand scattered around the murder scene, none of them gratified by what they had witnessed.

“You’re sick, Richtofen.” Dempsey expresses himself assertively, with a visible look of disdain on his face that Richtofen chooses to ignore.

Richtofen countered, practically growling back at him, “I did what was necessary.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dempsey feigned his belief with a dramatic eyeroll.

Prior to this, Richtofen had finally informed them of their mission in greater detail during a time when they had a break for the night. He delved into almost all aspects of the potential outcome if they followed the plan accordingly, as well as warning them of the challenges they were yet to face, and the upheaval if things went wrong.

They all listened intently, and surprisingly with no one adding their input. Although, Richtofen knew it was difficult to sound sane when you were practically describing the collapse of the entire universe if you so much as dropped a pin at the wrong place and time.

Yet Richtofen had not fully convinced them that this current step was essential, as he always seemed too shifty in the presence of a certain someone, especially as he holds the secret that this person was informed of the basis of the plan before the rest of them.

And it was (Y/n).

The chiming of clocks briefly stilled the air when they stopped all together, instead causing an unpredictable tension to rise between the men just moments after that single bullet was fired.

Richtofen had knelt beside the corpse of his former self, and the men watched him just as (Y/n) was. Although, they chose to turn their backs when he began rummaging through the pockets of his uniform, not caring for what more he had to do.

However, (Y/n) was unable to avert her gaze, despite the horror contouring her features as Richtofen deliberately placed his hands on the body, retrieving a couple of vials from his jacket before rising and intentionally stepping over the corpse, leaving it to drown in its own blood gushing from the bullet wound between its eyes.

As Richtofen moved away from the body, his gaze fixated on her. His stare was cold, yet (Y/n) noticed a subtle change in his otherwise impassive expression as his brows furrowed slightly and his lips momentarily formed a straight line, almost conveying a sense of awkwardness or a feeble attempt at an apology for what she had unwillingly been exposed to.

But there was no time for contemplation as an alarming cacophony of hissing and screeching filled their ears, prompting everyone to assume a defensive stance.

“This building is not secure.” Nikolai asserted as he advanced, shotgun in hand. “We must go!”

His articulation was gruff due to his pronounced Russian accent, but he was undoubtedly correct. Judging by the intensity of the shrieks and piercing screams, the impending invasion of undead would render it virtually impossible for all five of them to escape unscathed.

The structural integrity of the facility had deteriorated significantly, rendering it incapable of withstanding a light snowfall. Given the extended duration of the fivesome’s occupation, which spanned weeks, the situation had become dire.

“We must relocate to higher ground.” The Russian commanded.

Recognising the gravity of the situation and the absence of alternative survival strategies, the group unanimously complied with the Russian’s directive. They promptly initiated their ascent to safer locations.

Anticipating the potential for the crew members to become separated, Richtofen issued a clear instruction. “Proceed to teleporter C! We are leaving!”

As (Y/n) navigated the perilous environment, a barricade collapsed beside her. A decayed, grasping hand emerged from the debris, narrowly missing her hair. In a swift and decisive manoeuvre, Takeo intercepted the zombie’s attack, severing the arm with a single strike of his katana.

Without pausing to express gratitude, (Y/n) swiftly joined Takeo in pursuit of the rest of the crew.

The were only few locations around the facility that were secure from ambush, albeit rather small. A few had hastily departed when the area became congested, leaving (Y/n) and Takeo to remain side-by-side.

Retreating across platforms as undead creatures charged directly at them and sprinting through corridors before hordes could encircle them from both ends caused them to perspire profusely despite the frigid temperatures.

On several occasions, they lost their footing as the sheet of ice on the ground acted as a deadly trap, and (Y/n) found herself caught when her foot slipped out from under her, causing her to stumble and fall heavily into a barricade. She was unable to break her fall and injured her arm on a piece of wood that protruded like a blade, tearing a portion of her sleeve in the process.

Takeo had observed with a flash of concern as (Y/n) scrambled to her feet, drawing his katana to protect her from the approaching zombies. Fortunately, their destination, the teleporter, was not far off.

Proceeding through an underpass, the facility situated at the rear of the premises came into clear view, where Nikolai and Dempsey were spotted clearing hordes from inside the building, presenting an opportune moment for a swift escape.

As (Y/n) glanced over her shoulder, she noticed a decrease in the number of zombies. The rapid gunfire from the two men behind her had slowed, but the horde approaching her, and Takeo remained substantial.

The crew retreated into the building, unleashing a barrage of bullets upon the seemingly endless stream of creatures.

Amidst the chaos, Dempsey’s voice boomed, “Where’s Richtofen?!”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened in shock as she quickly scanned the building’s surroundings.

The Doctor’s absence caused significant distress, leading to a surge of apprehension and disturbing mental imagery involving his potential demise at the hands of the undead, hindering (Y/n)’s ability to concentrate on eliminating the imminent threat posed by the approaching hordes.

“We can’t leave without him!” She exclaimed, her voice betraying a sense of urgency. “We need to hold them off until he- “

A male figure, clad in a soiled waistcoat and shirt, emerged from a small opening within the zombie cluster, barging his way through. His attire stood out amidst the uniformity of the undead. Richtofen stumbled forward, hastily regaining his balance and inevitably kicking bullet shells as his arms flailed dramatically.

Richtofen’s appearance prompted the group to proceed towards the teleporter, but (Y/n) remained steadfast until the German reached her.

As Richtofen approached, his arm instinctively extended to guide her alongside him, to which she complied.

They arrived at the teleporter together, and Dempsey instinctively extended his hand to grasp hers, failing to notice her wounded arm as he drew (Y/n) to stand in the centre of the group. Although, his action went unnoticed as he called out,

“Get us outta here, Doc!”

Richtofen promptly activated the machine seemingly with the snap of his fingers. The device emitted a sequence of indiscernible sounds as a surge of electrical energy coursed through its intricate mechanisms, causing the ground beneath their feet to vibrate intensely. A brilliant flash of purple light enveloped them, and in an instant, they vanished, leaving only a wisp of smoke to dissipate from the machine as it transported them to an unknown destination.

To be continued…

#cod zombies #tank dempsey #edward richtofen #nikolai belinski #takeo masaki #call of duty zombies #codz #call of duty #codz x reader

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prettysweetprettysweet · 2 years ago

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I spend so much time dwelling on whether there was any sincere sorrow from Lestat in the story we were told, which is almost certainly pointless but I'm vindictive and hold grudges and always crave vengeance and feel an enormous amount of righteous indignation on Louis' behalf, so at this point for me the single most spiritually and emotionally satisfying thing that could happen in season two is Lestat truly recognizing all the pain he's caused and becoming completely dismantled by the weight of his guilt (and in a way that affords him absolutely no sympathy!!)

on that note...the show has us assume that Lestat stowed Antoinette a town away 'by design' in a bid to be discovered and catalyze some sort of passionate reaction from Louis, that Louis' actual reaction of numbness, dissociation, and suicidality was near immediate and kept completely inside, that Antoinette was listening in during this period, and that Lestat was aware of it enough at least to opine to Claudia that Louis couldn't pick an apple in his current state and that he is in worse shape at that point than he ever was during Claudia's absence. Sam mentioned that by this time Lestat was able to hear their thoughts.

I wonder with his chronic self-absorption if he had managed to draw a line from his own actions to their impacts, if it truly registered for Lestat that through his machinations and manipulations he bent Louis so far that he broke in half, that Louis was hurting in a way and with an intensity that he had never hurt before, and that Lestat more-or-less extinguished the flame that made Louis so beautiful in the first place. Did he feel any responsibility and did it cause him sorrow? of course from the story that we've seen so far, its nearly impossible to ascertain Lestat's genuine position emotionally and mentally at any given point.

one moment that causes me to stop is the bench scene when Louis thinks to Claudia 'every night i feel a little crazier' and Lestat makes this face and rapidly jumps up to leave:

with the assumption that Lestat heard this, this could be any number of emotions: exasperation, rage, denial/evasion, fear. but i want it to be at least somewhat sadness and guilt and painful recognition of the ways he is responsible for his husband's devolution into a crazy and suicidal state, his husband who is suffering exactly like Lestat's first love Nicolas, and is increasingly indicating that he will end up exactly like him.

I'm inclined to think he is feeling guilt/sadness/worry because of the way he parts with an earnest and understated declaration of love. to me it just seems like the subtle quietness of it would be the best way to reach Louis through the fog. it's also really delicate and caring in a way that reminds me of how you might talk to a child who has the flu.

the dead look on Louis' face is devastating. I think that because Lestat knows his husband is sick, he's trying to offer warmth and reassurance and encouragement. keep going because i love you. please remember i love you.

#Make Lestat Suffer 2024 #i know they're gonna give it to me good they HAVE to #iwtv #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #loustat #yo mismo #yomismoiwtv

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wildestaugust · 1 month ago

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Now I'm In It - Toni Kroos

A HAIM-inspired series of Toni Kroos.

toni kroos x reader. // warnings: mild smut. // words: 8.1k // a/n: this is the first part of the series, which will probably have 5-6 parts :)

They say that new beginnings are always exciting, but her life has been filled with many new beginnings that the meaning of such a phrase had been lost in translation considering the few countries she's lived in since she was a kid.

Being the daughter of a former football player-turned-coach was about adapting to new cultures every few years. As soon as she graduated from college in the States, her father took her with her siblings to Madrid, where he had taken the job as Real Madrid's coach.

The two years she had spent in Madrid were, perhaps, the happiest years of her life. She fell in love with the club, its people, and the city was incredible. She vowed to go back one day and perhaps settle there as her father kept their family home.

In just six years, they lived in three different countries. Germany, Italy, and England were all vastly different both in culture and the way its football is played; however, none of those places felt 'like home' entirely.

Things would swiftly change when one morning, at the beginning of the summer, her father gathered the entire family to tell them that, exactly six years and a month later, he'd go back to coach Real Madrid for the second time.

The hug she shared with her two older siblings soon became one of her favorite memories. Going back to Madrid was everything she had ever wanted since they left the city in 2015.

"This is the happiest I've been in a while," she said, smiling, to her sister as they saw their father sign his new contract, going back to the club he loved the most.

That season was filled with skepticism about what the ceiling was for that generation of players that had won four Champions Leagues in five years, but in the last three years, reaching a final had become difficult. The papers would raise the question that perhaps it was the end of an era.

It was December. Real Madrid had topped their Champions League group and they ended the year 2021, and that first half of the season, top of the table of the Spanish league.

The club's annual Christmas party for players, staff, and club members was held at Valdebebas as usual. She had spent most of the evening on her own talking to people and reconnecting with old friends, which had been the case with Isco, with whom she had been friends since 2013. Another one that she was glad to see again was Karim, whose wife was one of her closest friends given that she spent a while living in Munich, coincidentally around the same time she moved there with her family due to her father's Bayern job.

She had a great relationship with the ones that she met back in 2013; however, there was one in particular that she didn't get to know much before her father left the club.

She looked discreetly at the blonde talking with Gareth a couple of meters away from where she was sitting with both her sister and stepsister. Toni Kroos had been a name that she knew prior to his arrival at the club a couple of days after winning the World Cup in 2014; in fact, she had watched him enough times at Bayern in 2013 that she was completely unfazed when he signed for Real Madrid as she considered that he was meant to play for them.

Stereotypes are unnecessary most of the time; however, the man embodied everything that was said about Germans. His cold and distant approach had characterized him as a very interesting player to read, as it felt almost impossible to do so. The few times she was in the same room as him, she remembered him as someone well-spoken, but not too friendly.

As she tried to get back to her table, Gareth —who was a huge friend of her sister ever since his arrival in 2013, barely a few months after her dad's signing—noticed her.

"Hey! How's it going?" she replied as he politely hugged her.

"Oh, you remember Carlo’s daughter?" He said to the German, who politely smiled at her.

"Well, it’s been quite a while. Nice to see you." He said shaking her hand.

She had never stared at bluer eyes than his. It was almost delightful to have him in front of her eyes; however, she quickly snapped back to reality as she became aware of the awkward silence that had grown.

"I was asking if you wanted something to drink." Gareth said, as Toni gave her a long stare. He thought she was odd.

"Oh, sure. I'd love a whisky on the rocks." she said.

"Let me get it for you. Just a minute." he replied, walking to the bar, located just a few meters from where they were standing.

She was left with Toni.

"How are you finding Madrid? I suppose you hadn't been here in a while." He suggested as he drank the last of his can of Canada Dry. He hated alcohol ever since he lost the Champions League final in 2012 and got entirely wasted.

"Well, I haven't lived here since 2015, but the last time I was here was when Bayern played against you in 2017." He remembered that match. It was what gave them the key to the semifinal against Atlético. "And well... I love this city. I hope my dad can stay here for an entire decade so I won't have to move anytime soon." She laughed.

"Yeah. It's a nice city. I don't think I'll move from here even if I stop playing football." He loved the city and he wanted to have his kids there. It was the perfect place to raise a family.

Before she could say something else, a black-haired woman approached them. She quickly noticed how her hand slipped perfectly into his.

"Hey, I was looking for you." She said before looking at her. "Oh, hi! Are you the coach's daughter?"

"This is my girlfriend, Jessica." He said grinning.

"Nice to meet you! Yes, I'm Carlo’s daughter." She replied.

"Pleasure is all mine." She said in perfect English with a remarkable German accent.

She heard her telling him something in German. His face expression changed a bit as she talked.

"If you excuse us, we've got to leave." He said. "It was really nice to see you again!"

"Oh no. Don't worry! I'm just waiting for Gareth anyways." She tried to act normal, as if it hadn't been embarrassing enough. "Have a good night."

"Thanks!" Jessica said grinning, while Toni simply nodded.

A few seconds later, Gareth came back with her drink.

"Where's Toni?" He asked.

"He left with his girlfriend." She replied.

"Oh. Great, I guess." After that, they just kept talking about his kids. He was going to have a third baby, which prompted his question about her going to visit Emma, his wife, at some point in the pregnancy.

She was thankful she spent the night talking with her friend after that awkward interaction with Kroos, who seemed uninterested in their conversation to run away from it entirely.

The first few matches were alright. The board was happy with her father, and she was happy to see both her dad and brother do what they loved the most at the best club in the world.

As January settled in, the team was ready to face Rayo Vallecano in a match that would mean staying at the top of the table for them if they won.

"This is so exciting!" Chloe, her stepsister —who had arrived in Madrid from Los Angeles two days prior—, said as they walked into the stadium.

“God, I hope we win. I will not stand Davide and his self-criticism for an entire 30-minute ride." Katia, her older sister, added.

Their dynamic was unique. Chloe became their step-sister in 2011, shortly after her mother, Mariann, met her father at a charity event in California, where she was studying at the time.

Chloe was just a year younger, which helped them to get close when they were just getting to know each other. Eventually, it felt as if they had been sisters since forever, making their bond really strong.

"Go, Nonno!" She said, cheering on her father with her nephew, Katia's son.

The players were warming up, and as she took a few pictures, her eyes were set on the German. They hadn't spoken to each other —or seen— since that awkward night a couple of weeks ago.

What had drawn her to him was still something she was trying to figure out. It could've been just a fixation.

"Who are you looking at?" Chloe asked.

"No one. Dad says footballers are the worst." She replied defensively.

"I thought you were looking at someone in the audience, but thanks for telling me it was one of the players." She was teasing her.

"Well, even if it was true, I wouldn't tell you." She rolled her eyes as she drank from her glass of rosé.

"You're boring sometimes." Chloe shot back. "I reckon that you should shoot your shot!"

"Not with any of the guys that our father trains everyday." she replied. "Imagine how awkward it would be, not to mention he says footballers are the worst."

She remembered the first time her father said that. It was around 2007 when Katia started going out with a player from a team that played a friendly match at the San Siro. Her sister was madly in love and she recalled an evening when her father, lighting up a cigarette, told her to not follow into her sister's footsteps because:

"Honey, footballers don't bring anything good. I come from a different era so I can tell you these guys are not looking for anything long lasting." He said squeezing his daughter's shoulder. "They're not good people to be in a relationship with."

Ever since that conversation, he hadn't hesitated to remind all three of them. Even Katia, who ended up marrying Mino, a member of her father's coaching team.

"Whatever dude. I think he would understand if one of us dated a player nonetheless." Chloe said. "Besides... If you ask me, I know from a good source that someone asked about you after the christmas party."

Those words rang a few bells in her head. She could guess who could've been, however, it would be confusing given what she saw that night.

Chloe had heard from Gareth, who was half drunk that night, that a midfielder had asked if her stepsister was single. The welshman, however, didn't tell her who specifically, which led her to consider a few guys and discard others, such as modrić who was married and fede who got married just three months prior.

"Time will tell. I definitely don't think I'd date a player." she replied.

A couple of minutes into the match, an impressive ball from Asensio reached Kroos, who didn't hesitate to kick it, resulting in a long-range goal, giving the team an early advantage, 15 minutes into the match.

"Wow. He's so good." She said as the stadium erupted in cheers.

"No wonder he's a World Cup champion." Chloe replied, eyes glued on her phone as she recorded a short video.

She kept her eyes on the German midfielder. She was drawn to him, from the way he moved with the ball to how good he looked in the team's kit —which was an entire discourse amongst fans on Twitter. She had spent a little too much time on there and laughed at most of the tweets they posted.

Even if she developed a crush on him, it terrified her what her father would say about her, potentially dating one of his best players. She didn't want to disappoint him; it was not an option.

The team earned three valuable points to their hard-fought title charge for the league. She left with her father, her stepmother, and Chloe, while Katia and their sister-in-law left together with Davide.

"Did you enjoy the match, tesoro?" Carlo said while he hugged her.

"Yes, Dad. I think if you keep this structure, we might walk this league." She said. "Right, Chloe?"

"Oh yeah, whatever she said, Pops." Chloe replied, yawning as she laid her head on her mom's shoulder.

"Well, it’s good to hear that. You guys are the only critics I listen to." He replied. "By the way, we're all having dinner at Marge's." That place was a few blocks away from the stadium, coincidentally it’s where they celebrated her sister's birthday the previous month.

"Do Davide and Katia know?" Chloe asked.

"Yes. Also, Marcelo and Luka’s families and Toni. They wanted to do a team dinner and since the rest couldn't, I invited them. Is it okay?"

"Yeah. Sure, Clarice even goes to Pilates with us." Chloe added.

"They're all nice people." she quietly said.

She tried not to think too much about Toni, after all she believed it was only a stupid crush. It had happened before with other guys, the only difference in this case is that it was Toni Kroos, one of the most famous football players in the world.

The ride to the restaurant was short and quiet. They were all starving, especially her since she hadn't eaten anything since lunch, way before getting ready for the match.

She was surrounded quickly by her four nephews who were in the other car with her siblings.

"I'm the favorite auntie!" she said lifting Andrea as Chloe took Alessandro by the hand.

"That's not what Ale and Leo say daily, though." she joked as they all walked into the place.

They were quickly led to the back room where, surprisingly, the three players invited by her father were already there. Luka and his wife were sitting together while Marcelo and Clarice changed seats so she could sit next to their youngest boy, while Toni sat alone in the corner of the table.

Why was he there alone?

"Oi! So nice to see you guys!" Clarice said, smiling.

As the kids quickly found a way to start playing together, the adults greeted each other. Her mom was a dear friend of Vanja, Luka’s wife, which is why she quickly sat next to her.

She walked to where Toni was standing. He had greeted his coach; however, he felt out of place as there wasn't a lot he could talk about with the rest that wasn't strictly about football. However, he had agreed to attend the dinner given that he wasn't one to go out with the team that often, for a good reason.

"Hey. How are you?" she said, smiling.

It took him a few seconds to react. He found her niceness odd considering she had only seen him twice, and at least for him, opening up to people was not that easy for him.

"Hi. Great, I scored a goal tonight." He said, grinning as she sat next to him. "You?"

"Happy for your goal because I won't have to listen to my brother ranting about a loss." She replied. Toni grinned; Davide was hard on them during training, so he understood.

"Oh, likewise." he said, taking a sip from his glass of water.

She didn't know what to say since he didn't say anything else. What could she ask that didn't seem intrusive nor out of pocket considering how little they knew each other?

As if things couldn't turn more awkward, he got on the phone with someone, completely dismissing her. If it weren’t because everyone was talking and not minding what she was doing, she would've gotten up and left out of embarrassment.

Eventually, she sat closer to her stepsister without anyone noticing. Chloe had spent most of the evening talking with Clarice, so it was safe to say no one saw her struggling as she tried talking with the German.

At some point, she was asked by Marcelo how college in the States was. Most of the veterans knew her, so they were curious to learn of everything she had been up to after leaving Madrid in 2015.

"It was great. When we left Madrid, I did have the option to continue my communication studies, but honestly, I needed a change, and that's when Chloe said I should move in with her in Los Angeles." She explained, sitting with wine while her eyes drifted cautiously to Toni, who looked intensely at her, further keeping her confused.

While the conversation went smoothly, she couldn't help but think about him, the way he kept his eyes on her and his seemingly contradicting actions.

The dinner ended not long after desserts came. Her father reminded everyone that there was a training session earlier than usual due to a sponsor's visit to their facilities the next morning.

While everyone said their goodbyes, her phone rang. Although it wasn't that late, she wasn't one to receive phone calls past nine o’clock.

"Yeah?" She said. It was Lucia, a friend of her sister. She remembered she had arrived in the city earlier that day; however, she had mentioned wanting to surprise Chloe.

"Hey! I was talking to Chloe, and she told me you guys were still at that restaurant. Is that right?" She asked.

"Well, we are sort of waiting to leave." She said while she looked at her sister, who gleefully talked to their sister-in-law. "Are you here though? 'Cause it doesn't matter; you can leave with us."

"Yeah! I'm walking in! See ya in a bit then." She said, hanging up soon after.

Lucia lived three blocks from their house in Bel-Air. Coincidentally, she was a native from Madrid, although her parents had moved her to the States by the time she was 17. Back home, her house was a bit farther from theirs as she lived in La Finca, while the Ancelotti-McClay family resided in La Moraleja.

As they got up, she spotted their blonde friend walking towards them. Before she could react, Chloe ran effusively to hug her, which confused some of the guys.

"She's a friend of ours from L.A., and she wanted to surprise Chloe because we haven't seen her in months." She said before getting closer with her Mom to properly greet Lucia.

While Mariann introduced her to their friends, she quietly joined her father to go outside the restaurant so they could wait for the car.

"What did you think of the team?" He questioned. Although all the decisions…

"They were great. I think that this team can make something very special this season." She explained. "Kroos especially. He's been one of the greatest midfielders of his generation, so his performances these past few months aren't a surprise."

"You like him?" She tried not to show her true feelings, which were mostly mixed given Toni himself was still an enigma to her.

"Oh, absolutely. He's incredible, you know that Chloe and I supported Germany when we went to the World Cup in Brazil." She reminded him.

A core memory of that World Cup was, undoubtedly, going to the after-party of the Germans who celebrated the night away after conquering their fourth World Cup. They got in thanks to Sami Khedira, who left Real Madrid that summer after winning the Champions League.

"Well, I'm glad for your feedback." Her father said with a smile. "You're as unfiltered as your brother, but more rational."

"Well, Davide has always been the psychotic one." She said, prompting Carlo to laugh.

A few minutes later, the rest of the group joined them as well while waiting for the valet to bring their cars.

"Where?" She heard Chloe say as she walked up to her and Lucia.

"I'm sorry, what are you guys talking about?" She said chiming in.

"Luci wants to go to this party around La Finca. Do you think we can take your car? Because there's no way Mom and Dad are dropping us there." Chloe asked. Truth was, they were on opposite ends as a simple drive from their house to La Moraleja was, at minimum, twenty minutes.

"Whose party is that?" She asked.

"Christopher's. He's the son of my Dad's friend and his birthday is today." Lucia explained. "He's friends with a lot of players, so I thought one of these guys surely knew him."

"I've never heard of him... by the way, Davide took my car to get painted, so we gotta Uber." She said.

"There's no way we're taking an Uber this late." Chloe replied. "Give me a moment."

She saw her walk up to their parents. They were adults, but it was funny that whenever they were staying with them, they'd be teenagers again.

As she walked over to where the three of them were talking, she noticed her father look to where some of the guys were waiting for their cars.

"Toni!" Carlo said, getting the German’s attention.

She looked attentively at her father. What was he going to do?

"Can I ask you a favor?" Her father said.

"Anything." He replied while he looked attentively at him, confused.

"My daughters want to visit a friend of theirs who lives around where you live. You know we are on opposite sides, so I wonder if you could give them a lift." He explained.

Toni's answer was a fast yes in his head. Of course, he wanted any excuse to see her for even longer.

He was uncomfortable that night, just thinking how he could approach her. Even when she sat next to him, his mind blocked any attempt he could have trying to talk with her as he would normally do.

He and Jessica were broken up since the night after the holiday party. She had been on his nerves lately, and after being exhausted by her many arguments on meaningless stuff, he asked her to take some time apart. She left for Berlin reluctantly, as she thought he was taking things out of proportion. He really loved her, but lately, it felt as if she was getting too distant from him to even care about him like he wished.

He didn't think it was the proper time to go out with someone so close to his break-up, but he found her interesting to talk to.

“Uhh, yes, sure." He replied. "Does this mean I can skip training tomorrow?"

"You wish. I'll see you at nine o'clock." Carlo chuckled. "Darling, Toni is giving you guys a ride."

She looked at her father, frowning, and then back to Toni, who was standing there waiting with the valet guy.

"Okay. Thanks." She said. "See you, Dad." She didn't know what to do. He ignored her all night, only to end up stuck in his car for god knows how long.

"Oh my god, that's so kind!" Chloe said, smiling as she and Lucy walked up to Toni.

She didn't speak to him and, after saying goodbyes to their friends and their parents, she had no choice other than to sit on the passenger seat next to him once his white Audi arrived.

It felt extremely awkward to be in such proximity to him, despite the fact that he was the one willing to give them the ride. Why did she put herself in that situation? Why couldn't she just leave with her parents?

"Can I ask you a question?" Chloe said. Toni frowned a little before nodding.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Suddenly, her eyes widened up as she looked at what her sister had just asked. "I mean, it would be a little weird if I were your girlfriend and found out you gave a ride to three random girls."

"You know? You don't need to..." she rushed to tell him out of embarrassment from the way her sister tried to get all intrusive; however, he quickly shut her off.

"No, it's fine." He said. "First, you guys are my coach's daughters, so you're not random women. And second, I don't have one... we broke up recently." He said.

"Oh, I see. Sorry if we made you talk about that." Lucia then said.

"Don't worry, guys, it makes me feel better that I can talk about it." He genuinely felt at peace with his decision to break up with Jessica, but it made him uneasy that he couldn't stop thinking about his coach's older daughter when he had been single for less than a month.

He wanted her to know that he was single, and he wanted to make it clear that he had moved on.

"And what happened? If you don't mind saying."

"We kind of fell out of love," he replied. She looked at him, confused, definitely surprised at that response. "It got to a point where we would argue for the silliest things, so it meant there was nothing else more in that relationship."

"Was it a long one?" Lucia questioned.

"Is nine years a lot?" he replied, chuckling.

"Wait... You stayed with her for nine years, without a ring?" Chloe replied, trying to hold in a laugh.

"Yes? We barely thought about marriage," he said.

"Don't you think she wanted you to propose to her?" he had never thought about that before. Jessica would give him hints about marriage, but that was something he didn't want to do.

He wasn't opposed to the idea of marriage, but something didn't sit right with him. Perhaps, she wasn't the person he felt he could spend his whole life with.

"Maybe. But I gave everything I had to that relationship, so no regrets." He replied.

"So you didn't love her." She said. Immediately, she regretted it as she felt it came off rude and judgmental. "Sorry! That was so rude."

Lucia and Chloe laughed as they noticed how red her cheeks were. Toni noticed it too, and for the first time that day, he began laughing too.

“Oh, nice, I’m tonight's entertainment." she said, rolling her eyes.

"You can tell who's the introvert and who's the extrovert in our family." Chloe remarked. "But that's an interesting way to look at that, because you did spend a lot of years with her."

"Well, of course, I loved her!" He replied. He really did love Jessica, but he began wondering to himself if maybe that love evolved into something more platonic than anything else. "It just happened that we both grew apart, and I can't even blame the football because we lived together both here and in Munich."

"That's wild. Now you guys understand why I don't want to get married?" Lucia said, chuckling. "But I don't blame you, why would you be uncomfortable if being in a relationship means you need to enjoy being with that person..."

As Lucia and Chloe talked more with him, she tried to detail him more closely. She wasn't the biggest fan of tattoos, but she couldn't deny that his were particularly appealing to his whole look. She wondered how many more he had given his entire left arm was covered in them, while his right arm had a big lion, which she questioned what it meant.

She began wondering what it would be like to feel his touch? He was a very attractive man, and there was a certain appeal to his German cold demeanor.

She was too inside her thoughts that Chloe took her back to reality.

"Are you okay? I said it's invite only." Chloe said. She was embarrassed thinking about Toni maybe realizing she was looking at him that entire time.

"Excuse me, what? What does that mean exactly?" She questioned.

"Yeah, so I didn't know that there was a list... My invitation only has a plus one, so I don't know what we should do." Lucy explained. “God, this sucks."

"Aren't you friends with this person? I'm sure he wouldn't mind you bringing one more person." Toni suggested as he took a quick look at her, out of sympathy.

"You guys made me come all this way only for you to not check that there was a list?" She wasn't particularly excited to go to the party; however, she hated how there was always something that they'd forget to mention or check.

"I had no idea! When Lucia showed me the invite, we didn't even notice the plus one part." Chloe explained.

"I don't care! You need to be more attentive." She said. "I don't even want to go; I just came because you guys wanted me to come with you."

She began arguing with her sister, to the point where none of them realized that they had arrived already. Lucia joined in, defending herself while Chloe tried to explain to her sister that she couldn't avoid forgetting things sometimes.

"Hey!" Toni's voice was loud enough for the three of them to stop arguing. She frowned at the way he got them to stop talking. "What's done is done! Do you want to go to the party?"

"Oh no! I'm calling an Uber; there's no way I'm staying here." She replied, rolling her eyes. “Which, by the way, I hope that you guys know how to request one, because I won't be here to do it for you."

"You're such a bitch!" Chloe said.

"Can you not?" Lucia said, completely embarrassed at the entire scene being played out in front of Toni. "Look, it was my fault. I'm the one to blame here, so if guys want to leave, then we leave."

"Oh, don't even bother. She's perfect, so she's never had a mistake." Chloe replied.

"Fuck you!" She said.

"Enough!" Toni couldn't believe he went from scoring that day to breaking apart a whole argument between his coach's daughters. You could call that range. "Look, I've got a brother, so these sorts of arguments are unfamiliar to me. But you guys are going in circles here, so I have an idea so you three can stop arguing."

“Oh, so now you're Judge Judy?" She chuckled.

"No." He replied. "I have a small guest house by my pool; you can stay there while they're here." He explained while he was parked outside the gated house. "If I let you take an Uber, your father would probably kill me." He said. "And you two, you can walk two blocks from here, and you'll see my house at the end of the street. You can stay as well, and I could drop you off before I go to train tomorrow."

She was surprised. Why would he offer them to stay at his place? That sort of kindness felt foreign to her.

"Really? Why?" Chloe asked.

"I want to get home, and your argument is delaying that." He explained. "So, make a choice." Toni wasn't overly enthusiastic about hosting three women at his place that night, especially when he had her eyes set on one of them specifically.

"Fine. But just to be clear, I'm doing this because I have no choice." She said, turning back to her seat to avoid looking at them. "Please, do call when you guys leave." She added, giving a quick glare at her sister.

Chloe and Lucia thanked Toni. A few seconds after they got off the car, he sped up to go home after such a long day, finally. To go back home with a woman he had no relation to besides the fact that she was the daughter of his boss, somehow ranked second amongst the world stuff that had happened to him in his life.

The short drive to his house was met with silence. He didn't know how to strike up a conversation with her after the heated argument she had with her sister.

He chose to turn the volume up for whichever song was playing on his phone. Funny enough, Robbie Williams' Let Me Entertain You was what blasted through the speakers as he approached his house.

"Thanks." She said as he opened the door to his house.

Like any footballer, it was a majestic place where one could easily get lost. She wondered if he had bought that place with his ex in consideration, after all, he must've thought about marriage at some point.

It had been entirely unexpected that she would end up there that night. Even if it was for such a meaningless reason, never in a million years did she think they'd share a car ride, let alone stay with him.

As she walked inside, he led her across the kitchen, where there was a guest bedroom since she asked him where she could wash her hands.

“The main bathroom isn't done yet, but here's another one you can use." He quickly said. "Once you're done, just shout... or whatever. I'll go upstairs to get some blankets, and then I can show you the guest house."

"Sure."

She went inside the bathroom and began fixing her hair. After such a heated argument, her hair had experienced a little bit of frizz, so she minimized it by putting it all on one side.

She was quick and, as she left the bedroom, she found herself overwhelmed to be in such a big house. With her family, it had always been different; her parents, Chloe, and occasionally her two older siblings, would always go in and out of the house frequently.

Her father had even purchased a place for her in the center of Madrid, just in the high points of Salamanca. One could say that it was gathering dust as she favored staying with her parents in the outskirts of Madrid.

She wondered how Toni lived there on his own, with such isolation.

Wandering around the house, she saw his cabinet with all his trophies and pictures of those achievements. She laughed as she saw one of the 2014 World Cup, where he was sitting all alone in the background, while the rest of his teammates were together to take a picture with then-Prime Minister of Germany, Angela Merkel.

He had many Champions League trophies, four to be exact. If he managed to win his fifth that season, it would put him and a couple of other players as well with one trophy left to match Gento's 52-year record of six titles.

She also noticed a small corner where there were pictures of his childhood. A smile grew on her lips as she saw one of him and another blonde boy —who she assumed was his brother— where they are eating a carrot and some bread; however, Toni had a silly face on it.

There were a few more, and then she saw his most recent ones. In one of them, he was shirtless on a boat with a real Madrid cap on. She noticed he had gotten tattoos more recently since he was missing a few of the tattoos she had seen that night, which also spoke about the eye for detail she had that night for him.

She stood there for quite a while until Toni came back downstairs, and he saw her there. He didn't want to scare her, so he simply called her from the stairs.

"Hey." He said as she turned around. "Let's go outside."

"Sure." Her face was red as she wondered if he had seen her lurking. "I was a bit bored, by the way, so I had a look around."

"Liked what you saw?" he asked as they walked out to the backyard where the guest house was sitting, barely a few meters from his gigantic pool.

"Yeah. It seems you had a nice childhood. Was the blonde boy in all your pictures your brother?"

"Yes, that's Felix. He plays in Germany." He replied. "And our childhood was great, so you're correct."

"I figured."

"I assume yours must've been better." he said with a bit of a judgmental tone as he held the door open.

"You've got no idea." she replied.

For a small house, it really looked great. There was a living room, a modest kitchen, and two rooms down the hall.

"If you ever had cash issues, you could charge rent for this." she joked.

"I made it for my family. Sometimes my mom prefers to have her coffee here, or my brother prefers to have privacy with his wife."

"That's nice." she grinned. "My family is quite different. If we could sleep all in the same bed, we would. It's a very Italian thing. And given our Mom came from a Hispanic family, Katia, Davide, and I have also picked certain things from that culture which is much more family-oriented than the European mind can comprehend." They both sat on the sofa while she explained to him.

"Where was she born?" He asked.

"In Puerto Rico to Brazilian parents, but she moved to Italy after high school so she could study textiles and graphic design." She explained. She had a dress in her apartment that was part of the clothing line her mom designed for her thesis. "She met my father in her last year, and they married after their second baby, which is when Davide was born."

"You've got quite the mix. Latin roots as well as Italian? Wild." He mentioned. "Remind me your age again?"

"I'm twenty-six. My siblings got a baby sister when they were in middle school, well... Davide was like six, but still." she said, reminiscing about the times where she would go with her father to pick up her siblings from school. She would be around four or five. "Still, it's an age gap that isn't difficult for us three to relate to each other, and I've got Chloe as a stepsister, so it's great."

"That's great. Felix and I are much closer in age, but living in different countries sometimes takes a toll on our relationship as siblings." He said. "Still, I love my brother, and I guess this is something that normally happens when you leave home as early as I did."

"Can I ask something about that?" Their conversation was casual, but since they were sharing bits about their life, she wanted to ask something that wasn't that personal.

"About what?"

"Your career, when you went to Bayern." She explained. "We went there after my Dad left Madrid, and every time I'd hear your name in the city, it was always attached to negativity. Why is that?"

He laughed. He knew about the reputation he had in Munich after choosing not to extend with the team, and he was aware of how that extended to the national team, which is why he retired from during last summer's tournaments of the European Championship.

"Well, I chose not to extend because they weren't offering me anything worthwhile after the World Cup. Götze is a friend, but how could he get a better deal on his first season than me during my fifth?" The issue wasn't exactly the money, but rather how plainly obvious it was that they didn't appreciate him. "Also, they hate that I came here out of all places."

"Yeah... He also didn't do shit with them after the World Cup." She covered her mouth as her bluntness took her aback. “Oh, I didn't mean..."

"Don't apologize. He really didn't, which is sad for them because they invested a lot only to send him back to Dortmund." He said.

"Yeah, that was incredibly bad business." She said laughing. "So, I suppose that environment was what led you to leave the national team last year, no?"

"Sort of. It was never the same after I left, but I chose to suck it in because I still enjoyed it. My decision last year was mostly out of having a bit of sense and realizing I should be focusing on the club."

"That's extremely smart." She pointed out smiling.

It didn't settle in for him until that moment, that he was having a casual conversation with her on his couch. In that time, he lost himself in her face, detailing almost every inch of it.

Her green eyes lit up every time she spoke, and he began wondering how soft her lips would feel on his. He couldn't make a move that fast, but there was a sense of yearning awakening inside of him.

"You look tired," she said. "I don't want to hold you back from going to bed."

"I mean, I played a ninety-minute game tonight," he said chuckling. "I just don't want to. I rarely get to have these talks, but if you want to be by yourself, just let me know." He explained.

"Oh no! Sorry if that came out rude. It’s just that I felt a bit bad that you're clearly trying not to fall asleep.“ She laughed. "But that's nice. I'm glad I have a part in making you do something different."

"I'm glad too," he said.

They locked eyes for a minute there. He looked extremely good. It felt physically impossible for her not to lean a bit forward as she saw how his eyes, shamelessly, detailed her.

Toni couldn't help himself and, in an impulse, he leaned forward and kissed her. His hand rested on her neck as his lips savored the gloss on her lips. His tongue felt hers, and a burning sensation was felt all over his body.

After a few seconds, she broke it off. The smudged gloss on his lips made her chuckle a little.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," she said, trying to hide her face on his chest.

"Sorry for what?" he asked while he rubbed his hand on her back.

"This. I don't want you to think that I'm..."

"Whatever you're going to say, you're wrong," he said. "I wanted to kiss you."

"This is... wrong," she said, biting her lower lip.

"Why? We're adults." he replied, ignoring the obvious.

"I don't know how common it is for the daughter of a football coach to kiss one of the players he coaches," she replied. "Is it normal to you?"

"I suppose there's a first time for everything," he said teasingly.

"Still. This wouldn't look good for my Dad," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I mean, if you're going to run to your father and tell him I kissed you, maybe," he pointed out. "I think you're very attractive, and I'm aware I kind of left you hanging at dinner, but I guess I didn't have the moment of clarity I just had."

"About what?"

"About you and how I was dying to kiss you." His entire demeanor shifted. He was much more gentle and relaxed than how he'd treat her earlier; she had to give him that. However, his straightforwardness was also a very specific thing that also took her aback. "Perhaps I want more than just a kiss."

"And should I know what you want?" She flirted back, as she leaned her head against the couch.

His arms wrapped her around her waist, pulling her close to him. She kissed him again, although this time she was almost on top of him.

There was a certain sense of yearning to how he'd kiss her mouth and everything around it; her neck, her cheeks. His hands reached for the inside of her top, as he tried to take it off entirely.

She let herself loose entirely. The animalistic desire they both had grew stronger as they helped each other into taking off every item of clothing they had.

He kissed her exposed chest, while she ran her fingers through his thick blonde hair. She gave herself in, perhaps in a moment of desire that she'd probably regret in the morning, but in that time she was his.

As she sat on top of him, he quickly pulled his boxers down. He was hard as rock and, without much ado, he began introducing himself inside of her.

"Do I make you this hard?" She questioned with irony while she left wet kisses on his neck.

She left out a groan as she fully took him in, realizing in the process how well-gifted he was down there. After a few seconds, she began rocking her hips against his in a circular motion as they both found a proper pace. The grip of his hands on her hip was strong just as the words that came out of his mouth.

"You look gorgeous taking me in." He said close to her ear as he had his face almost buried on her neck. "Fuck, I want you all for myself."

"I'm all yours tonight." She said rapidly breathing.

She felt her body was about to burst as he rocked his hip against hers. Her climax was on the verge of arrival, which was noticed by Toni who sucked her neck as he talked into her ear.

"I'm close too, darling," he said. "Hold it in until I tell you."

As the room was filled with moans, she did as she was told and gripped her firm hands on his back, almost leaving marks on it out of the rush of the moment.

In complete sync, they collapsed on each other as they fully came undone. She took a quick look at him until she let herself be entirely embraced by him. He kissed her shoulder as he buried his face on her neck.

They spent almost an hour lying on the couch. Toni had his arms wrapped around her and had spent most of that time just whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

"That was great," she said. He was damn good at sex, and they weren't even in bed.

"Can I get your number?" he asked as he made small circles on her skin with his finger. She knew there would be no going back if she did it.

"Sure," she just couldn't say no. He had his eyes locked with hers as he spoke while she could feel him breathing close to her.

As she separated from him to grab her phone, a call came through from Chloe.

"Shit! Do you think they're here?" she asked as she answered, not before telling him to keep quiet.

"Hey! Lucy's ex was there, so we left," Chloe began. "But a friend of hers was leaving, so we asked her if she could take us home, and she said yes, so wait for us."

"Ohh... that sucks though. Is she okay?" she didn't know many details about their break-up, but she was aware of how messy it was.

"Yeah, we'll talk about it on the way home," Chloe explained. "Anyways, wait for us."

"Sure!" she said before hanging up.

Toni put on his boxers and his shirt while she finished getting dressed.

"I wish you could stay," he said with a grin.

"Well, you can't have it all," she said softly. "By the way, here's my phone. You can add your number or call yourself so you can add me."

That day had ended in the most unexpected way, but she couldn't help but feel good about having sex with Toni. She definitely felt a certain way about him ever since they were introduced by Gareth back in December, but what had just happened certainly changed things for her.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said while kissing her once more.

"Sure..." she said, biting her lower lip.

They walked back inside the house, and after saying their goodbyes —which included another kiss from Toni—, she exited it to find Lucy and Chloe already outside waiting for her.

After getting inside the car and greeting them as well as Sara —Lucy's friend—, they began asking her how she entertained herself for the hour or so that she spent there.

"How did it go without us? Is he weird?" Lucy asked. "I definitely think something's up with him."

"It was fine," she replied, trying to hold back the urge to confess them about what ended up happening between them. "And what do you mean about that?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's just extremely shy." she said.

She wanted to tell them how wrong she was, but chose not to. What happened was something she still couldn't grasp properly.

"Shy my ass," Sara chimed in, getting the attention of the other 3 women in the car. "Those football players are experts at flirting, whether it is through pity or nice words to have sex with you."

"Well, you would be my stepfather's favorite child because that's how he talks sometimes," Chloe added, chuckling. "You know, Toni does seem like one of those guys. What do you think?" she questioned, looking at her stepsister.

"I don't know. I thought he was a nice guy, at least that's my perception anyways." she lied, kind of. He wasn't just nice, but also damn hot.

"Well, you're the daughter of his coach. I think it wouldn't be smart of him to even attempt something with you." Sara added. "Don't you think?"

"...Certainly."

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