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fudgechocolatepuff · 9 months ago

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a lovebirds bloom! 🌷 pt.i

keigo t. x fem. reader | wholesome fluff :)

pt.ii of a lovebirds bloom , pt.iii of a lovebirds bloom

summary ⋆ ꪆৎ you with an unoccupied life intertwine paths with the fastest and busiest hero, where you both catch a break in your tranquil flower shop. lots of love in the air begin to unfold ꪆৎ

In contrast to the big city where everyone bustled to work in a hurry and longed for a minute more at home, you were met with a life you found quiet, but quite easy.

Fortunately, you were able to nag yourself a lovely position as a florist in a small flower shop tucked away from all the chaos that the streets carried.

You took your current job to be a gem, considering you had a never-ending obsession with flowers and bouquets since you entered high school that thankfully you kept as you approached your 20s.

Despite the fears that others had about these small jobs like lower compensation, you found peace in such a laid back and natural environment, an escape from the worldly problems that awaited you when you flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’.

Of course, you were aware that the shop wasn’t very popular among those in the city, and you didn’t exactly “make bank” like you had intended to as a teen, but you still enjoyed the connections you made with your boss, your other 3 co - workers, and your clients.

Due to the lack of popularity of the flower shop, it wasn’t normal that anyone of high status ever visited. They’d always be too busy with their inquires to bless you with their presence or had their assistants do it instead.

Until one day when you were browsing through your laptop, choosing and buying flowers from suppliers when you heard the jingle of the door bell ring faintly in front of you.

If there were anyone you weren’t expecting to walk in the shop to browse through the supply of plants, you definitely weren’t ready to see the number two hero in the country waltz through the door.

You stopped scrolling through the page you were on and stared at the hero, observing his movements in awe.

Out of all of the training your co-workers drilled into you, you had no idea how you were going to confront the winged hero.

Um, Hello?? Hero Hawks?? What brings you in our flower shop that’s literally the size of a dormitory room?? On a random sunday afternoon in the beginning of march?? What the flip??

The air of your workspace became too awkward for you to breathe in.

Gosh, it was just so random that such a well known hero like him would be in such a small flower shop like the one you worked in, the comparison was mortifying.

You knew that pro heroes existed, sure, but making interaction with them seemed like talking to someone of higher class.

Well, maybe it was like literally talking to someone of higher class, but in a scenario like this, it was 1000x more intimidating.

You watched his eyes as they glanced every few seconds in the ‘solid tones’ from the ‘pink’ selection to the ‘red’ selection, and then to the ‘baby blue’.

You weren’t the best analyst, but you quickly recognized the lost gaze he held in his eyes as he searched without a clue what he was even looking for in the first place.

It was kind of cute to see him so concentrated on some silly flowers.

Hawks then turned his head toward you and caught the admiration in your face, returning a gentle smile that made you mentally curse yourself for letting him catch you drool at him as if he were a masterpiece of art.

His revealed toned arms crossed against his chest definitely were a piece of art no doubt about that-

“ ‘scuse me, but could I steal you away for a minute? I jus’ need some help… doing all of this I guess,” the hero chuckled to you, his hand ruffling through the winded locks of his hair.

Your knees shook at the warmth of his voice and his boyish laugh that you almost ignored the initial request all together as you treasured his being.

You swear his presence was a mesmerizing haze, leaving you dumbstruck for a few moments.

“Oh… oh! Yes, yes! I’ll be right there!” You exclaimed to him as you snapped out of your lovesick daze, skipping out from behind the register counter to resolve his flower fiasco.

You stood to his side, looking up at him with your hands clasped behind your back. “So, how can I help you today, Hawks?”

His hesitation and ‘ah..’ that dragged out of his mouth revealed to you that he didn’t know how to start with his little issue. Poor him, you thought. Might’ve been a bizarre story for all you knew.

You assured him that you could help no matter how peculiar the situation.

Honestly, you wouldn’t mind if you had to stand there all day to listen to his melodic voice.

He put his hands in the fronts of his pant pockets as he began to explain,

“Alright, so, ya’ see, today happens to be one of my friends’ birthday, Mirko, I’m sure you know who she is, and ah.. I kinda forgot ta’ get her a present—hero duties and all, ‘course I’d forget, right?”

You nodded your head and hummed letting him know you were listening to his story.

He scratched the back of his neck as he continued,

“Only thing I can think of getting her right now are flowers, I know she likes them, but I dunno the first thing about flowers. You get where I am in this situation?” he smiled nervously, hoping you’d understand.

“Yeah, I have an idea,” you giggled, your hand making its way to cover your mouth as you poked fun at him, “kind of crazy how you would forget such an important birthday like that though.”

The hero put his hands up in defeat, “You got me there. That’s bad on my part, but at least I’m trying to salvage this,” he joked. “I’m just hung up on what to get her, I can’t picture any color, any theme, nothing.”

He turned to fully face you and tilted his head a bit to the right, a cheekier grin tugging at his lips. “Thankfully though I’ll be saved by the cutest florist who I’m sure will get me hooked up on the best selection of flowers.”

You felt your teeth suddenly grind against each other with a sharp breath you took in following after, making Hawks laugh at your stiffened reaction.

“So, what combination do you think would go well for today’s occasion?” He awaited your response with an owl-ish blink, crossing his arms again in anticipation.

Shaking off the embarrassment pooling in the core of your stomach, you took a moment to think.

‘Mirko.. although she appeared as a tough fierce woman, you personally believed she’d appreciate something elegant and light. (It made even more sense to you since the spring season would begin to bloom this week.)’

“I was thinking of something simple. Um, perhaps a pair of white roses and lavender baby’s breath..?” You searched Hawks’ eyes for any sign of approval, to which a glint in his eye shone as he looked back at you.

“I trust your judgment to whatever selection you make for me. I already know that I’ll leave this shop saved.”

His caring attributes and words were hypnotizing you as a timid smile curved at your lips and you held back the urge to utter an “awww.”

“I’ll get them wrapped up for you right now, it shouldn’t take too long.”

You still couldn’t fathom the fact that Hawks was literally the only one in the shop with you, it didn’t feel real, more like a dream where everything around you would turn into clouds and the two of you would levitate towards eachother until your lips met-

snip snip!

Hawks’ knuckles knocked rhythmically on the counter as his leaned figure watched yours snipping the stems of snow white roses.

He couldn’t help but let his eyes linger over your delicate fingers, handling the plants so well. He bet your touch was as gentle as a feather.

What was he thinking.

Hawks felt his heart tighten. He wasn’t sure if it was out of flattery, but his pinkening cheeks told him otherwise.

He should stop by this place more often.

He gulped down his thoughts, pupils looking up at you showing off your work to the hero.

The boquete was decently sized, definitely not small. The flowers were spread out and mixed evenly making the colors appear vibrant. From the stem up, the plant bunch was wrapped in a lovely baby pink sheet.

You extended your arm to his face, obliviously poking him in the cheek with the flowers as you finalize your final touches with a little ‘shift’ here and a ‘shift’ there.

“It’s not the best I’ve whipped up, but I hope this is good enough for Mirko.”

Standing up straight, Hawks took the boquete out of your hands, ever so slightly making sure to brush his fingers against yours, transferring the jolt of electricity from his body to yours.

It would be criminal to ignore a gesture like such. Who were you kidding—it left your beating heart throbbing, yearning for more contact. You had to keep it professional.

His hawk-like eyes stabbed daggers into yours, releasing a spell that couldn’t let you look away from the man in front of you.

“Knew I could trust you. Cutest flowers I’ve ever seen. They’re perfect.” he insisted, face not faltering one bit as he kept his eye contact with you—not looking away for a second—and craned his head the tiniest bit to the right to steal another flustered smile from you.

You hoped that he wasn’t talking about the flowers.

The three seconds that you and Hawks took engulfing each other in the moment felt like it lasted three years.

Yes, it was cliché, no need to yell it in your face, but it was nice. For both you and Hawks.

You had a delightful change of pace in your uneventful days, and with the most gorgeous man your eyes ever laid upon? Come on, you had to enjoy this.

You were a lovely girl to be around, really. Something about your personality just felt soothing after all the mental and physical wounds he endured throughout the years.

He couldn’t just leave it all here though. He was no casanova—quite the opposite, actually—but he knew you two had some sort of connection.

Hell, maybe he was delusional about this, but he couldn’t care less. He felt his stomach sink whenever he looked back at you, depicting whether it were butterflies or not.

He cleared his throat. “Well, thanks for the flowers, sweetheart. I better move along now, duty calls. How much do I..”

“Oh..! No, no, don’t worry about it, it’s on me this time,” You stimbled an awkward, but sincere smile as your fingers subtly fidgeted with a strand of your hair, gliding up and down the piece.

Hopefully the ‘understanding’ sprinkled into your smile would console him of his awkwardness. Even you could see it, and that was saying something.

The winged hero returned a soft grin to that, muttering a “thank you.” as he made his way to the door, his hand hovering over the handle.

He turned his head back to look at you, capturing your image in his mind so he could replay it over and over when he made his leave.

Raising your hand to wave him goodbye, you wondered when the next time you’d see him would be, or if you would ever even see him again. It felt bittersweet.

“Come back again soon.”

“I plan to do so.” He professed, pulling the door open and taking a few steps out the shop before he took off into the city, leaving you shocked and still in the shop by his bold remark.

If anyone were to be zipping through the winds at a decently fast speed, it’d be normal to be a bit cold.

But in this case, the winged hero was warming up the more your shop came out of view. He whipped out his phone from his pocket and opened his “imessage”.

hawks:

i think i just met the love of my life. and kind of ruined it sent 1m ago

rumi:

you dumbass. sent just now

a/n: longest and might be the corniest thing i ever wrote, cute tho! last part was kind of a joke, idk if hawks would acc text ppl like that. lmk if i should do another part! love uuu! 💗

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dcdreamblog · 1 month ago

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It baffled me for a while why you supported superpowered menaces such as the aliens Superman or Martian Manhunter, or the freak Batman, or the supposed 'goddess' Wonder Woman. Then I saw you were a Luthor hater. Sorry you're a brainwashed puppet of the masses and not a free thinker. The Infinity Inc project should have kept going, by the way.

Oh good, one of you people. I've been prepared for one of you people.

Alright buttercup let's quit the chitchat and get right to the root of things, shall we?

("President Luthor" was a very in depth historical account of the Luthor administration written by political analyst Ronald Troupe. It is the most recommended source on the subject and a book I both own and had to read for a historical ethics class) Luthor, and his supporters are operating somewhere between a deep Randian self delusion as to the nature of power and a very mundane and pitiful kind of bigotry. All mixed up together in a noxious concoction that's been poisoning society at large since the industrial age at the latest and probably far before Randian politics even had a name. Put in order to fully pry apart the Luthorite "philosophy" we need to take them on one at a time. So let's.

In simplest terms Lex Luthor is a bigot. And he's not even a principled bigot. He hates Superman, the Martian Manhunter, aliens and metahumans and magic users because they have power that he doesn't and have the ability to protect themselves from the dominion that he feels he is owed. He knows people are easier to control when they are kept divided from one another and that anger and hatred sells better whether he's selling weapons to Bialyan dictators or selling xenophobia to the American electorate.

Luthor, like so many heartless billionaires before him sees his own success as both anointing and justification. The final stop on the crazy train of the capitalist prosperity gospel. He's rich and successful and therefore is also a moral good because only good people, smart people, wise people are gifted with success and power.

I hate to tell you my friend but that is bunk on every level. Lex Luthor is a snake whose success comes from the kind of underhanded skullduggery that ALL success at that level comes from. He's lied, cheated and stolen everything he has ever gained and he's left broken bodies, homes, families and communities in his wake because he simply doesn't care who gets hurt because HIS prosperity is higher. Because he's a business leader, right? And employer? Because he just plain knows how to get shit done. And that? THAT is why superheroes piss him off so bad. Because every time he sees Superman lift up the rubble from a chemical explosion HE caused. He sees the court fees he'll have to pay when his safety violations are dragged in front of a court. He hates to see the Justice League standing as vanguard against existential threats because he calculates in his head how much he could be strong arming the United Nations to paying out for some kind of privatized security force.

Superheroes are too principled to be bribed, too powerful to be threatened, too connected to be divided and too unassailable to be undercut by the newspapers he keeps in his back pocket. He's afraid of them for the same reason McCarthy was afraid of them in the 50s. Because he knows for a FACT that eventually he will step out of line and they will come down on him like a bag of hammers simply because it is RIGHT. He despises Superman because Superman has power that Lex Luthor knows he would abuse. And so he must convince himself that ALL people would abuse them. Because for all his genius he doesn't have the two cents worth of wisdom needed to feel the yawning, flinty pit where his heart was supposed to grow in at some point. And the best part is even DECADES after the world got to see him for who and what he is, when he got impeached by the representatives of our republic for putting life on Earth at risk to make Superman look bad. TWICE. He still has yippy little terriers like you marching along at his heel. And he wouldn't spit on you if you burst into flames.

#dc #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #superhero #comics #tw unreality #unreality #unreality blog #ask game #ask blog #asks open #please interact #worldbuilding #lex luthor

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01zfan · 3 months ago

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contact pt. 2

ex!shotaro x ex!reader | 10.6k words

the part two literally two people asked for. i can't help that i can't get shotaro out of my mind especially THIS shotaro.

contains: breaking up, exes with benefits, miscommunication, mushy gushy stuff, and comfort from not busy diners and soup-and-sandwich specials

contact: part 1 | part 2

You didn’t meet Shotaro on purpose.

You met him on an impromptu journey of self discovery that lead you to the diner off campus. You thought you’d devise a plan to become a person that put themselves out there in the comfort of the place you went to nearly every day. Craft yourself a new personality over the best soup-and-sandwich lunch special the town had to offer, one of the few places that was so uninhabited you often got the entire place to yourself.

The closest thing you had to a friend was Giselle, the part time server that had mainly night classes. Your opposing schedules made it so you could never really hang out, but you admittedly preferred it that way. You two had an unspoken acknowledgement of the fact that your lives were total opposites. On Giselle’s Instagram you found out that she was involved in nightlife and other things beyond your single dorm. On your Instagram she found out you were never going to go to a party even if you seemed to really consider an invitation.

You liked the relationship you had with her currently, small doses of you in the form of sitting at your table between stretches of dead periods in the diner or when she was on break. That was probably the manifestation of another problem you had, but that was neither here nor there. What mattered was that you had uncharacteristically built such a rapport with someone to the point that they knew your name, what spot in the diner you liked, and what you were going to order.

Giselle brought you your food and sat across from you in the booth seat. She messed with the end of her high ponytail. Being friends with Giselle was easy. She didn’t hide anything, you didn’t know if she even knew how to. When you started at her blonde roots down to the cotton candy pink hair carding through her fingers you wanted to ask if it was damaged. When she sighed heavily you knew something was wrong. A perfect opening for conversation, so you didn’t have to force her to sit in silence with you.

“Long day?” You asked.

“Long week.” She answered.

“It’s only Tuesday.” You said.

“Tell me about it.” Giselle sighed again, putting her head in one hand as her other continued messing with her hair. You turned your plate towards her, offering the other half of your cranberry chicken sandwich. Giselle reached forward and dug her fingernails into one half to tear it into two pieces. She took the smaller portion. “I can’t wait for this week to be over.”

You nodded your head knowingly. If anyone had the right to be tired, it was Giselle. Between her involvement on campus, her work schedule, and her nightlife you didn’t know how she did it all.

“When are you off work?” You asked.

“In like twenty minutes. But,” Giselle brought her hands to her eyes and rubbed them profusely. “Shotaro is coming so we can talk about. Something.” She said.

Giselle had the habit of thinking you knew the same people she did. More often than not she would mention someone’s name in passing, each time you would have to remind your friend you very much did not know who the person was. So when Giselle mentioned Shotaro, the one who was in her financial analyst class, you still shook your head.

“I’ve never met him.” You said.

Before Giselle could tell you an unimportant fact as if that would jog your memory, the tiny bell above the front door went off. Giselle turned around before you could peer over her shoulder to see who came in. She checked her watch, turning the loose band on her wrist so she could see the time.

“You’re early.” She chided.

“Had to get here before you left like last time.” He said.

Shotaro’s hand went to Giselle’s shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. You didn’t even get a chance to assume that they were together before he was already looking to you with curiosity. You don’t know why it made the hairs on the back of your neck raise, but you’d come to find out that being at the receiving end of Shotaro’s attention would always make you feel that way.

You didn’t meet Shotaro on purpose.

Giselle always made sure to emphasize that when she told the story of how she brought you two together. She became your self-appointed love guru and wing woman when she told Shotaro about you like you weren’t sitting right in front of them. She patted herself on the back for keeping the conversation going when you would get nervous and stop talking. She always bragged about how she was able to set up a date between her two friends right before the dinner rush at her work.

Because you met Shotaro through Giselle, and you met in the diner you always came to, he became the de facto third person in previous duo with Giselle. Purely on technicality, and it made sense because the two ran in the same massive social circle, and the diner was one of the few places you ventured to in your small bubble. So more than Giselle saw Shotaro through mutual friends and school mixers and non-school parties she saw him with you, shoulders touching as he whispered playfully in your ear or leaned over to show you something on his phone.

Seeing you two together was such a common occurrence that when you showed up to the diner without him in tow, she knew something was off. When you stayed focused on your food instead of looking up at her, Giselle tried her best to be neutral.

“Where’s Shotaro?” With her eyebrows raised she leaned down to try and get you at eye level with her. “Haven’t seen him in awhile.” She said.

Her hesitancy made you think she already knew the answer. Still you focused on your food and not her, looking directly at your caprese sandwich.

“We broke up.” You answered simply.

Giselle’s eyes went wide. You were so silent it was almost overshadowed by the rest of the chatter in the diner, and you provided no other explanation. You just continued to eat your food, looking at the your plate instead of your worried friend.

“Woah.” When you only nodded in acknowledgment you felt the overwhelming concern come from your friend as she simultaneously tried to mask it. You cleared your throat and pushed your food around your plate as Giselle sputtered in front of you. “What happened? Are you okay?” She asked.

Only then were you able to look up from your food. You looked right past her to watch a couple walk by your booth to be seated. You nodded, turning your focus to the bell above the front entrance past Giselle.

“I am.” You answered.

When you had nothing else to stare at, you went back to your plate. You messed with the edge, feeling the need to prove yourself more than the need to eat.

“I broke up with him. In case you didn’t know.” You added.

You could argue that Giselle’s shocked reaction was part of the reason you called it off.

“What happened? I thought everything was going well between you guys.” She said.

There were no secrets you were keeping from her about your relationship with Shotaro, if anything you were keeping how good you had it hidden away. There was no one else in your life that was so willing to put their lifestyle on hold for you. No one who wanted to give up their weekends outside to be inside up with you, no one that was as patient or caring or warm and gentle. No one was considerate of your heart to never break it, even if you were ill-matched.

But there was the overwhelming burden that started becoming unbearable when you realized you were pulling Shotaro further and further away from his life. You had no right to keep him inside, to stop him from enjoying his youth.

You didn’t even know that it was weighing on you so heavily until you dropped the bombshell. Randomly on a Friday night, right when Netflix asked if you were still watching and Shotaro’s phone lit up with another message from his friend asking where he was at.

“I think we should break up.” You said casually.

“Sure babe.” You could feel Shotaro’s chest vibrate against your back as he silenced his phone.

When you didn’t reply and when you didn’t press Yes, I’m still watching his demeanor completely changed. He froze behind you, peering over your shoulder to try and get a good look at your face.

“Wait, you’re serious?” He asked.

When you still didn’t respond Shotaro got up from his spot behind you completely. You both sat up your feet dangling over the edge of the sofa as he looked at you confused. Too many times you felt like you were trying to play catch up with Shotaro. You had to constantly learn his new friends names and the birthdays and the hangouts and the parties and the cool restaurants you had no idea about. You felt sick satisfaction seeing him try to catch up to you for once.

When your words finally settled and Netflix went back to the homepage he let out a slow breath.

“Can I ask why?”

You felt yourself grasping at straws as you tried to find the reason. He was with you on a Friday night instead of going out to the party his friends spent a week telling him about. They were still holding out hope, not knowing that the thing indirectly keeping him in was you. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer him, that you were somehow yearning for something you couldn’t explain when you were doing fine on your own for so long. You only shook your head and repeated the sentiment.

“I just think we should break up.”

“I want to know why.” Shotaro pinched the bridge of his nose. He was always so patient with you.

Not having an answer made everything worse. Walking out without saying a word was arguably even worse. You did both while Shotaro followed you around his apartment, trying to get you to talk to him.

Even the morning after the funeral you didn’t have an answer. Your body woke up in Shotaro’s bed before your mind did, surging yourself forward like you were in a nightmare.

For a moment you panicked, blindly reaching for your phone that wasn’t there as you took in your environment. When you saw the familiar curtains and relief sunk in. But then when you really realized where you were, you panicked again.

“Good morning.”

Shotaro’s shirt was on your body, you were on his bed underneath the comforter he bought because he knew you always ran cold. He spoke to you slowly, looking at you from his desk. He eyed you from his office chair like you were unpredictable. He must’ve been right in some way, because being underneath his gaze made you want to bolt out his apartment through the window and lunge at him from your spot across the room. You tried to feign calmness, stretching like you didn’t just wake yourself up violently from your sleep. You rubbed your eyes and forced a yawn, trying hard to not look Shotaro in the face.

He picked at the bottom of his shirt, the one you were wearing last night before everything transpired between the two of you.

“Should we talk about last night?” He asked.

The way he asked it told you he already knew your answer. You still shook your head, looking down at the indent you were making on his mattress.

“Probably not.” You said quietly.

“Are you going to stay for breakfast?” He asked.

Same helpless infliction in his voice when he asked the first question. You shook your head the same, eyes on your pile of clothes neatly folded next to him.

“Probably not.” You repeated.

Shotaro nodded slowly. He knew you entirely too well. He turned away from you in his chair to face the dimly lit screen of his laptop. He started writing in his journal and typing, while you brought your legs closer and closer to your body. His room seemed a little colder, the floor was freezing underneath your feet when you slid off his bed. You padded around his room heel to toe, like you were trying your hardest to not make your presence known. But Shotaro always noticed, he always looked out for you in a way that made you panic. That’s why instead of continuing to ignore you for your sake he stopped typing on his computer when you reached forward to grab your neatly folded dress.

“You can borrow my clothes.” Shotaro said.

You nodded silently before fully grabbing your dress. You didn’t know if Shotaro wasn’t looking at you as some sort of punishment for you avoiding to look at him but you admittedly felt grateful. The way he didn’t follow you through the space made it that much easier to leave without looking back.

There was three days of radio silence before either of you reached out.

You fully intended to wait for Shotaro to tell you to bring back his clothes, or wait for a time in your schedule during the day to return his belongings. But after you called your mother and she guilt tripped you for leaving the wake without introducing Shotaro to all of your extended family you felt shitty. Then you went and bombed your exam that you were too emotionally drained to study for. Then it got unbelievably gloomy after your last class when you forgot your keys to your dorm. You sat in the lobby of your building, waiting for RA to come back from dinner so you could actually access your room. You felt that same sinking feeling you did outside of your mother’s house when you called Shotaro that night. You felt the same sense of overwhelming wrong that you just needed something to go right, or to completely top off the terrible day you were having by being rejected by him.

You sat in the vinyl chair as you thought about your options. You leaned back in the seat and replayed the awful day you had. Your mother calling you rude for leaving the wake early. Your teacher recommending you to come by for tutoring. Realizing when you turned your locked door that your key was waiting on the other side. Your day made you reckless, you nearly slammed your fingers on the glass screen of your phone as you typed in Shotaro’s memorized number.

hey

can i come over?

it’s ok if you say no.

You waited in the lobby of your building, watching people come in and out. You envied those who had their keys ready to go in their hands, and the ones that seemed to have their lives together.

taro: what are you coming over here to do?

nothing

only going to stay an hour

taro: doors unlocked.

When you went over to Shotaro’s house a second time, there was less talking. Once you came through his door, Shotaro quickly filled in the unsaid gaps of your impromptu visit.

You take partial blame for the way you framed your text. Telling Shotaro you were staying only an hour made it seem like your visit was a hookup, squeezed into your very busy schedule. You didn’t get the chance to tell him you were waiting for your RA to unlock your door as you two stumbled through his apartment.

Shotaro had his hands on your face as you blindly navigated the space, his lips on yours were bruising and almost rough as your legs hit the back of his couch. When you almost fell he pulled you tightly against his body, pulling a gasp from your already depleted lungs. You breathed hot air into his mouth, and drew the breath he was trying to take in through your nose. Still no words were said as you trusted him to guide you completely, your only job was to impatiently push open the door to his bedroom when he pressed you against it.

Instead of kissing you down to his bed gently like he had done all those times before, Shotaro turned you around. Before you could catch your breath he bent you over, the side of your face pressing into his mattress while your feet were still planted on the ground. The new position and Shotaro’s strength made you croak out a choked gasp.

Before you broke his heart, he was never like this with you. He never went straight to devouring you like he was now. He never put a strong hand on the back of your head, pressing it further into the mattress as his other hand felt you up. With widened eyes you tried looking behind you, but anytime your head moved out of place Shotaro would push it slightly harder into the mattress.

“Is this okay?” He applied the lightest of pressure behind his hand again and you drew in a breath. Your fingers started helplessly messing with the stitching of his bed. Shotaro’s hand that wasn’t palming on the back of your head grabbed your ass. “Is this okay?” He repeated.

Something about speaking seemed entirely too much. The small sounds you made during sex was always an indication to Shotaro that you liked what he was doing, that you wanted him to continue. Like your labored breath and the way you were gripping his sheets for dear life wasn't a big enough sign, you nodded your head against Shotaro’s palm and preened your ass backwards. But silence wasn’t enough. You felt Shotaro’s front press to your back, his body temperature making you sweat even more. You writhed underneath him, pressing your back further against his front.

“Use your words.” You could hear the sternness in his voice as his hand left your ass. “Communication is important.”

The second part of his sentence was quieter than the first. It also left something in the air between the two of you, something that had to be cleared by you swallowing your nerves and getting the courage to speak.

“Yes,” You breathed out. “It’s okay.”

Your dynamic in bed changed that night. Shotaro was no longer the sweet doting boyfriend but the energetic fuck buddy that was seemingly on a mission to bring you to tears. With a hand on the back of your head and his handprint swelling on your ass he kept you there for what seemed like an eternity. No sweet coos, no kisses on the lips. What was supposed to be an hour stretched to four as Shotaro bit your shoulder and grunted into your ear, asking you over and over again if this was why you came over. By the end of the night you were saying yes and more until your voice was raw.

You convinced yourself that this was another reason why you two had to break up. The way Shotaro fucked you now seemed to be the way he preferred. Throwing you around, pushing your body into positions he wanted. He needed someone to fuck rather than being the gentle and patient one throughout your relationship. He must’ve been holding back for your sake, and judging by the way he wore condoms and was constantly trying new things on you, you assumed other girls around campus were getting the same treatment. You convinced yourself that he wanted to try new things on you so he was ready for the countless girls that were probably waiting for him to be on the market again.

You forced yourself to be indifferent. When he would fuck you on the couch like you were just some hookup instead of carrying you to bed, you convinced yourself that it was just sex, and sex could be had anywhere. Anytime jealousy tried to consume you at the thought of Shotaro being with other girls, you told yourself that he didn’t deserve to be tied down by you. You were happy to be his willing guinea pig, even if the thought of him scrolling on Hinge or Tinder made your heart drop. Letting yourself be used was the least you could do after not even giving him an answer as to why you two had broken up in the first place.

Shotaro became accustomed to your arrangement quickly. After getting the confirmation to his question I’m guessing you want this to be a secret, right? he never asked again. He never asked if you were going on dates (you knew he already knew the answer) or if you were going out for the weekend (once again, you knew he knew the answer). You didn't ask him if he was seeing other people (you didn't want to know the answer) or if he started going out on the weekends again (you hoped the answer was yes, but you hadn't seen him on any of Giselle's Instagram stories and you two seemed to meet up on Friday and Saturday nights more than any other day of the week).

Outside of the space in his apartment you two were still broken up. Giselle was able to successfully drag you to Anton and Sungchan's place for the monthly movie night after telling you how much everyone missed you. On the big gray sofa you found yourself in the middle of tension. Quiet glances towards you and Giselle who was desperately trying to distract you from the quiet glances and the silence that surrounded Shotaro. You knew that your place in the friend group was linked to Shotaro, and your relationship was hailed as the one that was going to make it. There was a tension that came with everyone choosing their side in the "divorce" (Giselle on your side and everyone else on Shotaro's. Once again, you don't fault anyone, and you denied any well wishes or condolences people sent to your inbox).

Just when the nerves were were becoming too much and Giselle left the sofa to go to the bathroom, Shotaro came up to you. He sat next to you on the large sofa, leaving just enough room for one person to fit in between the two of you. He smiled at you and you smiled back. How was he not thinking about the position he had you in hours prior? How was he not showing any signs of mental distress when you felt like you were about to explode?

“How are things?” He asked, just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. He wasn’t being coy, Shotaro was genuine as he kept space between the two of you. You had to dig your nails into your thigh to stop you from closing the distance. Being here was cruel really. Putting yourself in this position was self-torture. You could feel everyone staring at you, the rest of the noise in the apartment fizzled away as everyone continued staring at you two.

“They’re great. Things are great.”

Shotaro smiled and settled into the couch, then as if on cue everyone else started flocking to the living room. People got comfortable on the floor and the sofa. Shotaro made extra room for Sungchan to fill the space between the two of you, and Giselle sat on the other side of you.

You would’ve loved to watch the movie the same as everyone else. When Shotaro’s friends would laugh along to the dialogue, or whisper before being obnoxiously shushed you were too busy staring at Shotaro. The changing scenes of the movie made him too visible to you, He was lit perfectly, and the darkness in the room provided you with just enough coverage to take your peaks.

You spent way too long trying to figure him out. You didn’t know what was happening during the movie or what it was about. You were too busy thinking about all the other movie nights when he’d be stuck to your side like glue, a hand permanently touching your thigh or holding your hand.

Now he wouldn’t even look at you. He stayed trained on the movie, only looking away to scold someone for talking or to reach forward and grab the snacks on the coffee table. He didn’t look over to you when you would laugh, or when Sungchan would look between the two of you from the sides of his eye. Shotaro didn’t give you anything, even when Sungchan inevitably drifted off to sleep right before the final act.

No one would’ve noticed if he even looked at you from the corner of his eye. If he just turned his head towards you when he was laughing. From your side of the couch it really did seem like nothing was happening between the two of you. You were going over everything since the funeral. When you ghosted him for three days to show back up under false pretenses. Last week when you showed up in the middle of the night unannounced. Meeting up with him after you went to the diner. You had to make sure you weren’t dreaming. You had to make everything was real, if he just looked at you the way he always used to you’d know this was real.

But Shotaro didn’t look. He only shifted in his spot on the couch when your fingers dipped underneath the collar of your shirt to run over that splotch of skin by your collarbone that Shotaro sucked raw. He only stretched his arm along the top part of the couch over Sungchan’s slouched body to bring his hand behind your head.

And you said nothing. You only leaned deeper into the couch as slowly as possible so your head could rest in his hand. You only stayed pressed uncomfortably against the couch so Shotaro’s fingers could massage your scalp.

After the movie you made sure to leave first. You were thinking about the secret display of affection as you narrowly avoided drinks and a talk about the movie by leaving the same time Giselle did. Shotaro had the same excuse, talking about a shift at work that didn’t exist. After he said he was leaving, everyone else followed suit. If anyone thought it was weird that you two were leaving at the same time, they didn’t let it be known. Shotaro’s friends only bid you a goodnight and safe travels as you scurried out of the apartment while he still gathered his things.

“You left in such a hurry I thought you actually had something going on tomorrow.” Shotaro said when he opened his door to you.

“It wasn’t a complete lie.” You reason.

Shotaro closes and locks his front door behind you and leans against the door. He gestures towards your overnight bag hanging off your shoulder. You shake your head and bring the strap closer to your body.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

You almost tell Shotaro that you have plans to study in the diner tomorrow. Breaking up with him forced you to bear through your weekly study dates alone. Putting your backpack in the place Shotaro always sat barely helped. You had also heard through the Giselle grapevine that he created his own study group and they occupied the biggest table in the library on Saturdays. You don’t understand how he could bare being around so many people while trying to get work done. But he also used to tell you he couldn’t understand why you liked being alone so much.

“Nothing.” You said, shaking your head.

He didn’t press it any further. He stopped trying to coerce information out of you a long time ago. If Shotaro tried asking a question he let you avoid it the first time you deflected. He would only lift his shoulders and let them fall, mimicking the nonchalant attitude you tried to exude.

He made it hard for you to feign indifference when he backed away from his door, giving you just enough space to walk through.

Shotaro started making you lead him through his apartment recently. After he’d walk behind you to turn the deadbolt lock he would just stay there. Shotaro would look at you from behind, and you didn’t dare to look over your shoulder at him. Being still behind you forced you to step further and further into his place unless you wanted to stand in the entryway all night. You took off your shoes and took your first step in, and Shotaro mirrored your step.

The shreds of dominance that Shotaro gave you made everything even more confusing. The suspension of control was supposed to be the appeal and the reason you were here. When life was too stressful or demanding you would come here to give the authority of your life in someone else’s hands. You came here to not worry about anything, but it was hard to keep your brain off when you had to make decisions to actively avoid an awkward atmosphere. Shotaro making you walk into his apartment instead of pulling you in forced you to make a decision with each foot you decided to put in front of the other.

The responsibility made it feel like you were walking on a tightrope. You didn’t know if the next step would be the wrong one, if he would scold you for walking towards the couch instead of his bedroom. But Shotaro’s silence gave you nothing. You had to make sure each step was confident, even if having the ball in your court made your heart drop. Shotaro didn’t stop you when you walked past the couch in his living room, or when you gently twisted the handle to his bedroom. He let you lead him all the way to his bed, where he looked unsuspecting and you felt like you were going to explode.

“Did you like the movie?” You asked.

Shotaro nodded his head. He gently guided your purse off of your shoulder and set it on his computer chair.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked.

You truthfully couldn’t remember what the movie was about. Each time you tried to recall what was on the screen your mind only went to Shotaro’s hand inconspicuously massaging your scalp. You had your eyes on him more than you did the movie. Still you nodded your head, trying to find a proper segway to the reason you came here tonight. Shotaro again was no help. He stood next to his bed in front of you. His hands didn’t even cross the space to touch you first. You had to be the one to make the first move again, taking a step forward until you could press the palms of your hand to his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

Lately you’ve been thinking about your mom telling you about that shell you were stuck in when she called you after the wake. You came out of your shell in front of the person who knew you best you felt like you regressed to something even worse than before. When you were asked what’s wrong, you used to answer with contention or shrug it away. Now, when Shotaro asked that question and brought his hands to your arms you felt tears prickle your vision. You couldn’t say it even if you could put it into words. You just lightly pushed at his shoulders, until he got the hint and started lowering his body.

Shotaro let you push him down until he sat on the edge of his bed. With you looking down at the crown of his head, it was manageable. The overbearing heat spreading across your body from embarrassment and an incoming cry turned to confidence, for a second you believed you had an upper hand in the situation of what’s wrong.

You brought your hand to rest on the top of Shotaro’s head, trying to touch him the same way he did in Anton’s apartment. You weren’t caressing him lovingly, you weren’t offering the affection you swore your arrangement was supposed to be void of now. You were simply testing the waters. Running your hands through his hair was foreplay, nothing more, nothing less. When Shotaro preened into your hand the same way you did on the couch, he was simply returning the favor.

When you felt him beginning to look up, the exhilaration shifted to nerves and before he could even make eye contact with you, you were already going down to your knees. His hands gripped the edge of the bed a little tighter. You hesitated the same time he did before he spread his legs wider. Regardless you kneeled on the hard cold ground, slotting yourself between his legs.

Instead of touching his head, your hands rested heavy on his thighs. Shotaro spread himself further to give you more room, and you felt the air in the room shift. You continued rubbing your hands up and down his thighs, looking at the bulge in his pants instead of him. Being in this position was already enough torture. You prayed that Shotaro would give you a break this one time, that he would just tend to your silent cues of what you wanted to do. But his hand went from the edge of the bed to your chin, and you felt his fingers apply the smallest amount of force to tilt your head upwards.

Looking up at him had the opposite effect on you. Everything in you shriveled up when he held such intense eye contact.

“Tell me what you want.” He said.

Don’t read too much into it. Don’t acknowledge the somber look in his eyes or the pang in your chest. Just reach forward until your hands touch the belt of his pants.

“Can I—” He refused to let you off easy. He only raised his eyebrows, forcing the rest of your sentence from your dry throat. “I want to suck your dick.” You asked.

You don’t know how Shotaro said yes after the words tumbled so awkwardly from your lips. When your lack of sex appeal made you cringe, it made Shotaro’s hands undo his belt quickly. The buckle knocked against his hand but Shotaro didn't show any sign of pain. He set the belt next to him and you watched his hand go to the button on his pants next. Your hands waited for him to stop doing the work, and you took the time to compose yourself from going over the way you asked to suck his dick a million times. You tried to be in the moment for him, because you spent so much of your actual relationship doing everything but that. You shuffled on your knees, and moved your hands to work his pants the rest of the way when they got to his mid thigh.

While you pulled his pants down the rest of the way, Shotaro started palming himself over his briefs. The same ring you gifted him—the only one he seemed to wear these days—stared at you as he touched himself. You pressed your nails into his thigh, letting out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding. He let out a breath too, and you pulled away from the sight to look at his face. Shotaro was already looking at you—but maybe he never looked away to begin with—as his head lulled to the side.

“You see what you still do to me?” He sighed.

If lust wasn’t actively replacing all of your sane thoughts, you would’ve asked Shotaro what he meant by emphasizing the word. You could only swallow a mouth full of spit and nod your head.

“I see it.” You looked back down to his hand. He stopped palming himself to grip it over the fabric of his underwear to really let you see. His dick twitched in his hand when his other cupped your chin. Your nails scraped Shotaro’s waist when they went underneath the elastic of his briefs, and he raised his hips from the bed to let you pull them down.

His dick sprung straight up before you could even get his underwear down to his ankles, and it continued to twitch as he gently pumped himself. Shotaro forced you to take it slow, you matched his pace of fully undressing him as you felt the nerves over your body. Shotaro only took his hands off himself and your face to take off his shirt.

When his briefs were beside you, your hand reached forward to grab him. He was hard and already wet in your hands. When the nerves became too much Shotaro leaned back slightly on the bed. You stayed focused on his dick as Shotaro adjusted himself on the edge of his bed. Again you felt his fingers scratch against your scalp, but they didn’t push. Just having him touch you made the courage come back. You inched closer and Shotaro poked out his tongue to wet his lips.

“You got it.” He assured.

You nodded to Shotaro again before bringing him closer to your mouth. You licked the underside of his tip first, a flat tongue against him as he sighed above you again. When you took him all the way to the back of your throat Shotaro’s hand tightened, trying to pull your head back. He always did that, trying to always stop you from gagging or getting ahead of yourself. Feeling Shotaro still handle you like you were made of glass made you take him just as deep again.

“Fuck.” Shotaro whispered.

Hearing him curse underneath his breath made you feel like you were doing something right. His grip on you loosened and you took him deep again, and when you gagged he didn’t pull you back. He only spread his legs a little further apart and you scooted closer, ignoring the pain in your knees from the hardwood floor. But Shotaro pulling you off of him paled in comparison to his hands clasping over yours that were pressed to his thighs.

When his thumbs started gently caressing your hands, you needed more. Maybe if he fucked your mouth it’d get rid of the tender feeling in the air. If he fisted your hair instead of moving to cup your cheeks it would be easier. If he told you that he knows you could suck dick better than that instead of cooing at you and telling you everything felt so good you’d be less distracted. Even when you purposefully lose your rhythm and grazed your teeth along a vein his hands didn’t guide you. He only sucked air through his teeth when you gagged again after taking too much.

“Slow down baby.” Shotaro says gently.

His hands cupped your cheek to prevent you from taking him so deep. You don’t even know if your attempts are even bringing him close to the edge, or if this is more for your benefit that his. There had been too many times you looked up to see Shotaro staring at you, more enveloped in you than what you were doing to him. Back then you were satisfied with his focus on you, but now you just wanted his head to lull to the side in bliss. You wanted to hear him curse because of how well you were taking him, and hear his toes crack and feel his thighs shake.

You can’t take it when you take a brave glance upwards to see him looking down at you. His eyes are locked on the same spot his thumb rubs over on your cheeks, then your earlobe that he lightly pinches with his fingers.

“So pretty.” His hand moves to your hair, massaging your scalp the same way he did during the movie. When Shotaro finally catches your eye before you go back down, his hand on your face becomes a little rougher. He doesn’t stop you from taking him to the back of your throat again. “Have you always been this good at sucking dick?”

You nod when you feel his tip heavy on your tongue. Even though it feels like his words are solely for your benefit they play in the back of your head to stop you from gagging and letting more spit dribble from the corner of your lips. Shotaro hums when he sees your resolve, and you blink your watery eyes.

“All for me, huh?”

You nod with his dick in your mouth. When you looked up again Shotaro finally had his head tilted back. He let his leg lose it’s bend and found a new angle to slowly thrust into your mouth. You accommodated to him immediately, ducking your head lower to meet his hips. You felt Shotaro’s hand loosen on your head to wipe the drool seeping from the corner of your mouth. He went back to looking at you now, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Even though your pace remained the same, he sounds significantly more lost than before. You hadn’t even gotten to the part where you were supposed to gently rubbing the sensitive inside of his legs to get him even more bothered. But when you nod your head Shotaro moans again, and before you can take keep going he lifts your head off of him.

You’re still blinking away the tears in your eyes and breaking the line of spit with your tongue when Shotaro starts pulling you up. You can’t stop yourself from pouting at not finishing the job as you were getting the hang of it and he was so visibly close. His dick was red and angry when he pulled you up, slapping against his stomach before going back to being upright. You can’t even tend to him before he brings you up to eye level. You’re still attempting to blink away tears when he grabs you by your chin and pulls you in.

When Shotaro’s soft bitten lips press to yours, you realize how long it’s been. Even though he put such an emphasis on how important communication was in your new arrangement, there was plenty that was left unsaid. No talking about why you broke up, no talking about why you came back, and no kissing. You two came to the silent agreement that kissing made everything too real, it was too intimate for the arrangement you currently had. Pressing your lips to his was too reminiscent of the kisses you shared before you broke up with him. He pressed into you the same way, and tilted his head before letting his tongue push into your mouth. You reacted the same way too, parting your lips and letting your tongue press against his.

You two were like that for awhile. Like no time had passed or like you two were doing it for the first time again. Shotaro worked extra hard in the moments you came to your senses. Feeling him pull you deeper made you forget everything. This wasn’t a bad idea when he pulled you by your waist onto the bed with him, and it wasn’t a bad idea that he was maneuvering your body to be underneath his.

When Shotaro pulled away you followed after him. Your lips were still parted, your tongue in the same place he left it when your eyes fluttered open again. He was already looking at you, your glossy spit was still smeared across his lips when he smiled at you. You were too busy trying to hide the look of surprise on your face to do anything else. He rubbed his fingers over your expression before you could change it. You were trapped underneath his body and his soft gaze that was so much harder to bare than the hunger he had in his eyes earlier. He looks away from you when he reaches to his nightstand, pulling a condom from the top drawer.

“I don’t know how you still do this to me.” He said quietly.

There’s that still again. It’s persistent, it’s emphasized each time it leaves his lips. Shotaro kisses your lips again before you can ask him about it. He gently pushes your pants down your legs and you quick them off until you hear them hit the floor. You wrap your legs around his waist quickly, falling into the normal operations of the past two months. But instead of Shotaro bringing his hands to restrict both of your wrists he intertwines his fingers with yours.

Your hand hesitates, fingers sticking out straight between his. Shotaro looks at your rigid hand then to your eyes.

“I just need you.” He’s sincere. His voice almost breaks when he pulses his grip on your hand. The way he looks down at you makes you ignore everything else until you’re nodding your head to his request. Shotaro’s lips curl into a smile and his thumb rubs at your cheek. “In the way we used to do it. Please.” He begs like nothing happened between the two of you. You clasp your hand around his like it's another Friday night of you holding him captive in his room instead of letting him enjoy his youth.

“Okay.” You should feel terrible for doing this.

He doesn’t take off his ring to slip it into your mouth. He kisses you again as his hand drags down your body. Shotaro is the one who guides your legs around his waist as he situates himself between. He’s teasing when he rubs his tip across your clit, it causes both of you to moan into eachothers mouths.

As Shotaro slides in, he holds your hand tight. You feel it being pressed into the mattress beside your head before he slowly rocks into you. Both of you are careful, knowing you’re liable to say something you definitely shouldn’t. But the way he slides back in feels like the first time, and when he goes to your neck to let out a sigh of relief you feel it.

“It’s like no time has passed.” Shotaro’s voice is barely held together, like he’s one step away from moaning directly in your ear. He pulls away from your neck to look at you. You close your eyes fast, but you’ve been in this position enough to know. The scene is painted perfectly in your mind, and you can feel his breath fan your cheek as he continues to talk. “Like that night never happened.” He says.

This isn’t dirty talk. This isn’t him telling you that you’re tight or wet, or that you sound so pretty. You should tell him that this is going to far, but it feels too good. You’re already feeling that knot in the pit of your stomach. The closeness and feeling Shotaro’s heart beat against your chest is making everything feel too intense.

You’re not ready to rebuff his advances. There were many things you could’ve said back to him in this moment. He was giving you an opportunity to say something back without having to even look at him. With his face buried in the crook of your neck and his hand holding yours tightly to show support, Shotaro was opening the door wide for you. You were silent, he pulled his hips back and pushed back into you until a strained moan fell from your lips.

“Do you miss me?” He continued.

He was desperate. He ground his hips against yours and you could feel him in your stomach. You arched you back off the bed again, nodding pitifully, holding his hand so tight you thought you’d break it.

“I miss you, Taro.” You say immediately.

“Don’t leave this time.” He said.

Before you could say anything else, Shotaro hooked your leg in his arm to open you up more. You were compensating the deeper spot he was hitting by digging your nails into whatever you could. His face pressed into the side of yours made it impossible to focus on anything else but him. He was looking down at you, biting his lip trying to hold on just long enough to hear your response.

You shouldn’t have opened your eyes. You should’ve kept them screwed shut until you came. You could blame everything on being theatrics of getting you to finish, but when you opened your eyes and saw how sincere Shotaro looked, it was impossible. You were the only thing he was looking at, so locked into your facial expressions like this was about you instead of him. There was no use in hiding your moans, or how close you already were to your orgasm. You just held him tight so he’d do the same to you, pushing your hips upwards to meet his movements.

There’s no words. Just the two of you moaning, making the bed creak, and holding on so tight. When you’re already on the verge Shotaro is right there, hanging his head low to whisper into your ear.

“I’m close.” He says.

“Me too.” You say back.

Like you two were still a couple, you came together. Shotaro always said it was romantic, so you made a point after you broke up to always cum before or after him. But this time it wasn’t on purpose and unavoidable when he sped his hips up. You were moaning into his ear and then crying, pulling him closer as your legs wrapped around his waist. Shotaro was rutting into you then he stopped, hand on your waist holding you in place. He grunted like he was really cumming inside of you, holding you in place while he panted in your ear. This was too real, too reminiscent of how it was before you ended things. He even stayed on top of you for a beat, coming back to Earth as he realized the both of you went too far.

Shotaro rolled off of your sweaty body to lay on the bed next to you. You stared at the ceiling as you caught your breath. This was definitely worse than the night of the funeral. Then you could blame it on the fresh emotion of breaking up with your ex and the overwhelming presence of your mother. But having intimate sex after pretending you two were solely here to fuck was worse. Significantly worse when Shotaro couldn’t even find the words to cut through the silence. The two of you just stared at the ceiling, hands that were just holding eachother looking for something else to hang onto.

You could barely bring yourself to look out the corner of your eye to Shotaro. He was matching your breathing, one hand resting on his chest while the other pushed sweaty bangs from his face.

“My mom asked about you.” You say.

Shotaro turned to face you and you averted your eyes back to the ceiling. He’s silent for a moment, tapping on his chest like he’s trying to find the words.

“Terrible thing to say after we had sex.” Shotaro laughs to the ceiling. “But what’d you tell her?” He asked after a beat of silence.

“That you’re doing well.” You answered.

You told yourself Shotaro’s heavy sigh was because he was still trying to catch his breath. He got up from laying on the bed and sat on the edge, his back facing you. He didn’t say anything else when he ran his hands through his hair again.

“Why would you tell her that?” He asked.

You got up after him, looking at the back of his his head.

“Because you are doing well.” You answered.

Shotaro turned back to face you. His eyebrows were knit together and he tilted his head to the side. You should be looking at the ceiling light.

“How would you know that?”

You really should be looking at the ceiling light. Because Shotaro keeps his eyes on you and looks upset, you can’t bring yourself to look away. You’re gormless, mouth agape while he fully turns to face you.

“I mean. You haven’t had an actual conversation with me since you broke up with me.” He reaches to the ground and pulls his shirt over his head. You should be getting dressed too. What you came here for is done, but you’re still in the center of the bed. “The only time we actually speak is when we are having sex.” He adds.

Shotaro gets up from the bed and pulls his sweats up his legs. You start looking for your own clothes, they have to be somewhere near your body. You know your bag is still on Shotaro’s computer chair, the S charm he bought you still hanging off the bag.

“I thought you preferred for it to be like this?” You said.

“You think I want the person who broke up my heart to come over just for sex and then just pretend I don’t exist?”

Shotaro’s bewildered expression makes you turn and face him. There’s no hiding the pain on his face, the confusion in his expressive hands. You have nothing to say.

“Why would I want the girl that broke my heart to come over just to break it again and again and—”

“I didn’t break your heart.” You say quietly.

Shotaro has to force eye contact between the two of you by propping himself up on his elbows. He looks at you confused and angry.

“How can you tell me that? You broke up with me and wouldn’t even tell me why. Then you call me outside your mom’s house after a funeral and it seems like you miss me and you need me but then after it’s like you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” You say quickly.

“Then tell me why we broke up.” The anger fizzled out somewhere. Shotaro is on the bed, looking at you. He’s so desperate, his hand reaches out and grabs yours to hold it tight. He shakes your hand when you don’t answer, and you can see that heartbreak he was talking about earlier. You find your clothes fast, locking onto them before pulling your hand out of his. “Please.” He begs.

“I don’t think we should sleep together anymore.” You say.

Before Shotaro can say a single thing you’re getting dressed. He follows you wordlessly around his place just like the first time. Anything he says falls on deaf ears. The only resistance was when he stood in front of his computer chair, stopping you from grabbing your bag. But after a moment he handed it to you, and you were gone.

November was colder than you thought it would be. You had to bring your jacket close to your body to try and preserve some warmth. Leaving Shotaro’s apartment even after he was calling for you made you forget that nights were cold. You were aimless suddenly when you made it out of his apartment complex. You should’ve shuffled home in the cold to spend another night alone, coming to terms with the fact that your relationship was over. But the other way like a honing beacon the lights inside of the diner were still on. It wasn’t that late after all, and Giselle was working. There was the soup and sandwich special and still the chance to reinvent yourself. So you shuffled across the gravel and then the grass and then the intersection to the warm yellow lights. The cream of mushroom soup and reuben sandwich special etched on the a-frame outside was like a honing beacon.

You opened the glass door to an empty diner. Giselle sat behind the hostess stand, on her phone until the overhead bell chimed. She grabbed menus and prepared her customer service voice before she looked up and realized it was you.

“Here kinda late?” Giselle asked.

The door slammed closed because of the wind behind you. Giselle said a fact, you were never here past the midday lunch special. You never came to the diner outside your window, you never really left your dorms this late into the night either.

“I was wanting some soup.” You say.

Giselle said nothing else as she guided you to your designated booth. The cup of water and her hand lingering on your shoulder was some form of silent support, and she was heading to the kitchen instead of sitting down with you.

You were watching the rim of your glass and people filtering in and out of the diner. There were barely any people, there was never any people. Only stragglers, people studying late tucked into the corners near the outlets. People sitting at the bar drinking coffee even though it’s nighttime. A completely different crowd than what you’re used to. Being surrounded by people means you’re not alone, and that’s a feeling that’s been eating at you more than usual. So you people watch. You look at the workers behind the counter and the glimpses of Giselle’s pink hair you see behind the swinging door. You hear the bell above the door ring while you’re looking at the back of someone, trying to read their dimmed computer screen.

“I figured you’d be here.”

When you turned around Shotaro was standing next to the booth, dressed in a long coat. He was wearing his slides and socks, something thrown together. It was obvious he wasn’t concerned with dressing for the weather or for style as much as he was concerned finding you. He was still wearing his sweats and sleep shirt and out of breath as he motioned to the other side of the booth.

“Can I sit?” He asked.

You nodded and Shotaro slid in. He took off his coat, shivering from the incoming draft as he settled into the seat. You tried to seem as calm as he did, mirroring his look around the cafe.

“This is where Giselle introduced me to you.” He says.

“This is where you came to talk to Giselle about that project and I just happened to be here.”

You’re playing with the straw in your cup when Shotaro shakes his head. He laughs to himself and looks at the table, running his hand over the top before putting it underneath.

“I used to sit in that back corner over there.” Shotaro points to the part of the diner you’ve never looked at. Someone occupies the space there now, sitting in an stool hunched over as they type away on their computer. You preferred booth seats over stools, so you never paid attention to that side. You’re stuck on the person you’re looking at, not even turning when Shotaro starts speaking again. “You used to come in here so often and order the soup and sandwich special.” He says.

You try your hardest to remember the times you’ve looked over your shoulder. Trying to remember the other table Giselle would always sit at before she started sitting at yours. You try to remember her friend she would mention on occasion, each time you’d tell her you didn’t know him.

“I had to beg Giselle to introduce me to you. She said you wouldn’t like me almost a million times.” He laughs and you see his hand go back up to mess with his eyebrow. A nervous tick that Shotaro always forgot was a nervous tick until he noticed your eyes staring at his hands. “I insisted I just needed her to introduce me to you and I could handle it. But I got so nervous she had to do all the talking for me.” He says.

Finally you turn back to Shotaro. You have to blink to see him clearly.

“Why are you here right now?” You ask.

Your voice is quiet, and so close to breaking. Shotaro leans closer, experimentally reaching his hand across the table. You shouldn’t grab it, you really shouldn’t grab it. But his palm facing upwards looks so comforting and you haven’t touched him outside the context of the bedroom in so long it feels like the first time. You let his hand completely clasp over yours and you look at him the same way he looks back at you.

“You haven’t talked to me. I just want to know why.” He says, just as quiet.

You don’t know why you’ve kept it a secret for this long. You couldn’t come to terms that you broke up with him for a ridiculous reason, or that you were in the wrong. You would’ve thought that he’d move on by now, and those girls you convinced yourself he was seeing would’ve cleared his mind. But he looked tortured for the first time in his life. His eyes were pleading and he was wearing the clothes he wears to bed in public. Withholding the reason why you two broke up was the thing that kept him here. You were trapping him again, unknowingly leveraging a breakup with sex.

“I didn’t want to stop you from living your life.” You look down at his hand, still holding yours tight. “You stopped going out because of me and you stopped seeing your friends too.” You said.

When Shotaro scoffs you look up at him. He’s shaking his head like he can’t believe it, holding your hand tighter.

“Who says I stopped going out because of you? Maybe I just got tired of going out.” His other hand is on top of the table, motioning towards something. “I’ve been going out for as long as I can remember.” He says.

“What about your friends?” You ask.

“What about my friends? I see them everyday.” He says.

When you start shaking your head, Shotaro leans close, until the edge of the table stops him.

“I stay in with you because I want to. I still see my friends, and I still live my life.” His other hand wraps around yours. “I want to live a life with you in it. Come out with me, or we can find a new place together if you don’t want to be holed up inside. But I don’t see the harm in doing that on a Friday instead of going to a club I’ve been at a million times.”

When you try to open your mouth to speak, you can’t get the words out. When tear wells in your eyes then rolls down your cheek you have to look outside, anywhere but at Shotaro. You can’t escape him when you see his reflection in the glass window, or when he looks at you even in the reflection. Your other hand wipes away your tears, laying flat on the table.

“I meant it when I said I miss you. I miss you. So much. I should’ve told you how sorry I was the night of the funeral.” You say to the glass.

You see Shotaro nod in the reflection.

“I missed you too. I prefer this instead. Communication is important.” He smiles.

You smile too, turning back towards him. You wipe away more of your tears, fighting that lump in the back of your throat.

“Next time we break up though, please kill me instead. My heart can’t take losing contact with you again.” Shotaro says.

Before you can ask him the question you already know the answer to—the burning question of if you’re back together—Giselle comes around from the back of house with two sandwiches. She talks about how she’s the matchmaker and how sick you two make her until the diner closes.

#seriez: contact #01zfan: shotaro #shotaro smut #riize smut

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cielgr · 9 months ago

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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 greenish blue 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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georgemaries · 7 months ago

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business analytics course

A business analytics course focuses on equipping learners with skills to analyze data, derive insights, and make informed business decisions. Topics typically include statistical analysis, data visualization, and predictive modeling. By completing a business analytics course, individuals can enhance their analytical abilities and improve organizational performance in data-driven environments.

#business analytics course #Business analysis course online #business analyst classes online

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cheriladycl01 · 1 year ago

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I can’t do this anymore - George Russell x Wolff! Reader Part 1

Plot: You are the daughter of Toto Wolff team principle of Mercedes-AMG Petronius, you’ve worked your whole life to become an Engineer. However, your dad has other ideas for you and doesn’t want you to become a race engineer. You start to confide more in the Red Bull racing Team Principle to help you get an engineering job, and see him as a present father figure.

“Hey dad! Guess what!” You exclaim to you dad as you walk in to the Mercedes F1 HQ in Brackley.

“What sweetheart I’m a little busy right now” he says pointing out Lewis and George who are with him.

“Well I just got my university grade back! I got a First Class degree!” You exclaim, showing the grade on your phone to him.

“That’s really good darling but it’s not like you’ll need it for anything in life. Surely I provide for you enough” he smiles not fully listening. Lewis sends me a sympathetic nod. Lewis had been your idol in the F1 world, when you first met him you were 11 and he was 27. He basically helped raise you. You were on the road with your dad for most of you life, in between the mechanics tutoring you in maths and science and your mum helping you with English.

You managed to pass all exams at lower levels despite all the constant travelling and proceeded to ask your dad to attend university. Lewis was like your older brother, you were the first person he would always hug when he won a race. He’d take you out for dinner and make sure you ate well and he would buy you little gifts. You’d both constantly joke about how you’d become his engineer one day but little did you know that he wanted that as a reality so badly. You were and always would be his number one girl.

“But dad” you asked and he turned to look at you, and brushed you off once again. You walked out back to your apartment a little sad with your father.

This continued for the next few months, whenever you spoke to him about getting a job as a Data Analyst or a Car Designer or god forbid an engineer he quickly steered the conversation away and it was starting to frustrate you.

“I can’t do this anymore” you said to yourself sadly.

So when it came to the last race of the season, you made your way over to the RedBull garage. Looking around.

“Y/N Wolff, you can’t be in here” a voice smirks, you head turns to see the Mexican driver for RedBull, Checo.

“Erm, hi. I’ve actually come to see Christian” you admit, looking down shyly. This is when more people join the conversation, Kelly and Max have joined both looking intrigued as to why I’m in the garage of the enemy.

They observed you, you were still in your Mercedes stop which was white and made you stand out in the see of dark blue and red of the Red Bull colours. Max couldn’t put his finger on why the hell Toto Wolff their biggest competitor had sent his daughter to their garage. Or maybe they hadn’t sent her, was she here of her own accord?

“Not here to steal our data are you?” He asks, looking at you with a smirk.

You rock back and forth on your heels, a little uncomfortable with the situation you had put yourself into. Why didn’t you just message him, or not walk in in your Mercedes gear…

“No i actually have to see Christian” you say, and after cocking his head Max nods and directs you to where Christian is.

“Ahh Mini Wolff, what can I do for you?” Christian asks as you enter his office, Max left after shutting the door for the both of you, you’d kind of hoped he would stick around as a sort of buffer. But you knew Max was a busy man with a race to prepare for.

“I got my engineering degree in September, I want to work for you” you say bluntly. You take a seat at the other chair opposite him, grabbing the hair tie around your wrist slinging your hair back, trying to show how serious your facial expression was and that you weren’t here on a mere joke from your father.

“Excuse me?” He asks with a confused smile on his face.

“I want to work for RedBull, I know this is odd because your are Christian Horner Team Principle of Red Bull Racing and your probably sat there thinking why the hell is this Mercedes golden girl, here asking ME for a job of all thing. Well it’s actually a really funny story that starts like way way back in the day-“ you started by Christian coughs a little before interrupting.

“You’re rambling, just get to the point”

“I literally did, I said I want to work for you, and you said excuse me I thought that was you asking for a further explanation” you admit a shocked look coming onto your face, your eyebrow raised and head cocked to one side.

“Why don’t you go to your dad for a job? I’m almost positive he’d love to have you work on his team with him. You know pass the principle legacy onto you…” He asked.

“Well I tried but-“

“Are you telling me little Missy that you came to me as second choice” he exclaims and again your cheeks flush and eyes widen impossibly further.

“N-no it’s just that I have this degree and he won’t let me use it for anything and I want to be useful at something in life Yano? I love engineering and I’d love to help the current Constructors Champions out” you explain.

“Well you Little Wolff are in luck, Max’s race engineer leaves on Paternity leave soon, so we need a fill in. Then you can help with the car for next year? How’s that?”

“Are you serious?”

“Well how about we test the waters with your communication on Thursday with Max, then do a test drive on Friday with you. If it’s exceptionally shit, well we will figure something out. But I have faith in you!” He smiles, and stands up coming around the large white desk to meet you face to face, his Han chording out as to shake.

You take his hand, keeping eye contact with him, excited that you will finally be able to work.

“Oh also you’ll be needed in our uniform by Thursday I’ll put an express order out and have it sent to the hotel in Mexico for next week how’s that?” He queries tapping away on his phone rattling of stuff to his private assistant that they would need to cater for you on the next race weekend.

“Hmm, it’s Sunday today so, we’ll announce on Friday that you’ll be working with us for the remainder of the season. Hopefully that will stir up enough to get people riled up before the race” Christian gloats, his mind probably swimming with all the drama and news articles that would be floating around the paddock in a weeks time.

“I’m sure it will, especially my dad” you grunt.

“Thank you for the opportunity. I promise I won’t mess it up” you say and he nods you out of the exit, Max, Kelly and Sergio are all there waiting trying to look as if they hadn’t been snooping in on your conversation.

You gave a nod of understanding to them before exiting the garage trying to subtly make your way back to Mercedes without being noticed by anyone. However your luck wasn’t very good as none other than George, Charles, Alex and Lando rounded the corner.

“Y\N what are you doing coming out of the Red Bull garage” George questions, a confused look on his puppy dog face.

“Erm, I’m in a rush” you say before slipping past them, he goes to follow you but Lando stops him, nodding over to Max, Dani and Sergio that are all looking in their direction with smirks on their faces.

“What happened there then?” Charles asked confused.

“Why the hell was she in that garage, and alone?” George questions more to himself.

“Maybe she has a thing with one of the engineers?” Alex shrugged, easiest explanation to him.

“Surely not” George says a roughness to his voice after hearing that , that the others had failed to notice.

“Let’s go ask Max” Lando advises, starting to walk over.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x you #formula one #formula one fanfiction #lewis hamilton #toto wolff #george russel imagine #george russell #george russell x you #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic

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swan-of-sunrise · 1 month ago

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Taking Care of Business (Chapter Forty-Eight)

Summary: As the third trimester begins, Din and (Y/N) spend their quiet morning at home struggling to come up with baby names.

Pairing: Din Djarin X F!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hey guys! Today I present to you a short but sweet chapter about our bad-ass but very silly Din and Alor'ad trying their hardest to finally choose a couple of names for Baby Djarin. I haven't settled on the baby's sex yet so if you have a preference, please let me know! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Forty-Eight The Names (Previous Chapter)

As (Y/N) entered the third trimester of her pregnancy, Clan Mudhorn continued to diligently prepare for the arrival of its eagerly-anticipated fourth member. Din and (Y/N) converted their cabin’s spare bedroom into a nursery and while (Y/N) spent her free time away from House of (Y/L/N) sewing baby clothes, Din completed as many bounty hunting jobs as he could before the captain’s due date, the extra credits ensuring that their son or daughter would have every comfort imaginable. They attended every birthing and parenting class at the medical clinic, downloaded and read dozens of books on the subject of childbirth on their holo-pad, and brainstormed their intricate birthing plan. Even Grogu participated in their preparations, much to Din and (Y/N)’s amusement and occasional exasperation; at least twice a week, one of them would find an irate frog in the baby’s nursery that the child captured as a welcome gift for his brother or sister. They were undoubtedly ready for their little one’s arrival…well, except for one very, very important decision.

“What about Kalerth?”

Din wrinkled his nose in distaste, continuing to rub slow circles over (Y/N)’s protruding stomach and watch the sun slowly rising outside their bedroom window. “Nope. How ‘bout Ronhys?”

“No, I knew a Ronhys once and he was a kriffing idiot. What about Syril?”

“C’mon, alor’ad, that’ll make our kid sound like some sort of half-wit pencil-pushing Imperial analyst.”

(Y/N) snorted in amusement and Din smirked against her collarbone as she playfully smacked his arm and threaded her fingers back into his rumpled hair. “Mir’sheb. We’re getting absolutely nowhere with the boy names, so why don’t we throw in the towel and move on to the girl names for now?”

With a tired yawn, Din pressed a chaste kiss onto the exposed skin of his wife’s clavicle and nodded. “Good idea. How’s Daya sound? It’s an old-fashioned Mandalorian name, but Bo-Katan mentioned that it’s back in fashion.”

“…I don’t hate it, but I don’t exactly love it either. How does Amilyn sound?”

“Okay, I guess, but I think we can do better. Galleia, maybe?”

“It’s pretty, but I’ll have to think that one over. What do you think of…hmm, I don’t know…Xi’an-?”

“Absolutely not.”

The captain chuckled. “That was suspiciously quick. What, did you have a fling with a Xi’an before you met me and I made an honest man out of you?” He pursed his lips but remained silent, which only made her gasp in exaggerated shock. “You did, didn’t you?”

“If by ‘fling’ you mean we slept together once during a job, she tried to kill me and years later, she tried to kill me again then yes, we had a fling.” Rolling his eyes, Din lifted his head to give (Y/N) an amused smile. “Would you really wanna name our child after one of your former flings, alor’ad?”

A look of revulsion twisted at her beautiful features. “Urgh, I see what you mean. Besides, Jod and Han are awful names for a baby, even without the unpleasant added context of a failed relationship.”

“Y’know, those names sound awfully familiar-”

“C’mon Din, focus! If you keep distracting me, then our baby’ll never have a name.” (Y/N) lightly scolded, but the glimmer in her eyes and the curved corners of her mouth coupled with the hand she’d brought up to cradle his cheek. “And don’t you go thinking that those big, brown eyes of yours will get you out of trouble.”

Din’s brows rose in mock outrage. “Wait, I’m distracting you?”

“Taking responsibility for your actions, that’s very mature of you.” The bedroom filled with the captain’s giggles as his fingers dug into her ticklish sides and her attempts to squirm away from his onslaught were unsuccessful. “Okay, okay, okay, truce!” She cried out, shooting him a withering glare as she worked on catching her breath. “You’d better watch your back, Din Djarin, ‘cause the moment this baby’s born my revenge will be swift and merciless.”

“Mmm, I’m looking forward to it.” Din flashed her a brazen grin and ducked down to press his lips against hers in a searing kiss. Before he could, however, his wife’s rumbling stomach brought him to a sudden halt and caused them both to burst into surprised laughter. “Hungry, alor’ad?”

“I wasn’t, but it would seem that your child has other plans,” (Y/N) grumbled, but a loving smile softened her features as she glanced down at her protruding stomach and ran a tender hand over its curve. “With all this food I’ve been eating lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if this little one grows up to be quite the formidable warrior, just like their dad.”

Din smiled as his hand moved to join the captain’s, secretly reveling in the feeling of their child’s movements beneath his palm. “Maybe, or maybe he or she will follow in their mom’s footsteps and become one hell of a pilot. Either way…” He gave her lips a quick peck before getting out of bed and offering her his hand. “It’s breakfast time. Pickled meiloorun fruit and blue milk again?”

The captain sheepishly smiled while he helped her out of bed. “I know that it’s a gross combination, but it’s the only thing that sounds even remotely appetizing these days.”

“Whatever makes you and the baby happy, alor’ad, but I think I’m gonna fix me and Grogu something a little less…unique.”

“Oh please, the little guy catches and eats frogs on a regular basis and before you met me, you survived solely off of expired ration portions.”

The pair of them went about getting dressed and ready for the day, and (Y/N)’s grumpiness was exasperated by her inability to lace up her own boots and their unborn child’s newfound fondness of kicking at her ribs. While Din knelt before her and made quick work of her laces, her stifled winces of pain caused his heart to clench in sympathy as a familiar wave of guilt washed over him. From the moment they first became partners, he vowed to protect the captain from any and all dangers they might encounter on their adventures and keep her safe; it was only natural, then, that he would feel like a failure while he was forced to watch his wife struggle under the plethora of pregnancy symptoms, symptoms that only seemed to multiply as the months went on. She’s the strongest person I know but that doesn’t make it right that she must endure this pain without complaint, he thought to himself, his heart lurching again when a pained gasp escaped her clenched teeth. In tuned to his inner turmoil, the captain carded her fingers through his hair while he tied her laces and pressed a gratitude-filled kiss onto his forehead the moment he finished, and he soon felt his scowl beginning to soften into a smile once again.

Breakfast in the Djarin-(Y/L/N) household wasn’t always a peaceful affair; there were Grogu’s occasional temper-tantrums, emergency holo-calls from Carson Teva, unannounced visits from Greef Karga and (Y/N)’s sudden bouts of severe nausea triggered by whatever Din was cooking, so whenever a quiet morning came around they were always sure to savor it while it lasted. While Din prepared their breakfast, (Y/N) and Grogu sat together at the kitchen table and the child was enraptured by his mother’s tale of flying amongst a pod of migrating purrgils, his wide eyes filled with wonderment as she animatedly described the creatures that few were lucky to ever see in their lifetimes. Din, listening to the conclusion of his wife’s story and his son’s coos of excitement with a content smile on his face, plated their food and carried it over to where his family sat, placing a plate of fruit in front of (Y/N) and a kiss onto her cheek and patting the top of Grogu’s wrinkled head before setting his breakfast down before him.

“Hey, little guy, would you like to help your Dad and me out with something?” (Y/N) asked after taking a sip of her blue milk, her smile widening when Grogu looked up from his Ronto wrap and eagerly nodded. “We’ve been trying to think of the perfect name for your little brother or sister, but we’ve been having a little trouble. Maybe you’ve got an idea or two?”

The child’s brow furrowed in careful concentration and a moment later, he grinned and pointed a clawed finger at (Y/N). “Patu.”

Din tilted his head to the side. “You wanna name the baby after your mom?” His confusion grew when he impatiently shook his head; his eyes flicked over to the captain, and his brow rose when he spotted the blood-red flower embroidered onto her blouse. “Wait, the flower?”

Grogu squealed in triumph and (Y/N) brought a hand up to trace the embroidery, a thoughtful expression gracing her features. “It’s a millaflower. They’re native to Naboo and signify great respect when gifted to someone; its extract is prescribed by many homeopathic physicians as medicine, but it can also be crafted into a potent poison.”

“Beautiful but deadly…” Din mused as he studied the embroidered flower; it’s a description befitting the daughter of a Mandalorian and a retired Rebellion smuggler, he thought with a growing smile, looking over at his wife over the brim of his morning caf. “How does Milla sound, if it’s a girl?”

(Y/N)’s hand absentmindedly rubbed along her baby bump as she quietly tried out the name, and she looked back up at him with a softened smile. “I think…that we’ve finally found the perfect girl’s name.”

With a grin, Din reached across the table to affectionately rub one of Grogu’s large ears. “Good call, kid. Got any ideas for a boy’s name?”

After a moment of consideration, Grogu shook his head and (Y/N) chuckled. “That’s okay, little guy, one out of two ain’t bad.” She ate another spoonful of pickled meiloorun and was reaching for her glass of blue milk when her eyes lit up with realization. “Since Milla’s inspired by my Naboo culture, why don’t we try and come up with a boy’s name that’s inspired by Aq Vetina?”

Din, taken aback by the captain’s thoughtfulness and the mention of his homeworld’s name, attempted to hide his surprise behind a look of deliberation as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “We can try, but I was just a child when I was taken in by the Death Watch, there’s not much that I remember about Aq Vetina’s culture…”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I should’ve thought-”

“It’s okay, ner cyar’ika alor’ad, I still think it’s a good idea,” He quickly reassured her, reaching over to rest his hand on top of hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We just might have to work a little harder to jog my memory, that’s all.”

“All right, then, let’s start with something easy like…” (Y/N) trailed off, lost in thought for a moment before snapping her fingers in realization. “Constellations! Do you remember if Aq Vetina had any notable constellations?”

Din set his Ronto wrap down onto his plate and nodded. “I remember learning about them in school and…” A lump formed in his throat as a long-forgotten memory sprang to his mind and he took a steadying breath. “My parents taught me. In the summer, we’d spend nights stargazing from our back garden; my father would point each of them out to me and my mother would tell me all the stories behind them.”

With an understanding smile, the captain twisted her hand around to thread their fingers together and he threw her a grateful look. He’d learned long ago not to dwell on his life before the Mandalorians but after officially becoming Grogu’s adoptive father and learning of (Y/N)’s pregnancy, he couldn’t help but look back on his childhood on Aq Vetina and mourn what could never be; his parents would never see him grow up, never meet the woman who captured his heart and never know their grandchildren, but what pained him the most was that they would never live to see peace return to the galaxy. Maybe they already know, he thought as he reflected on the afterlife that (Y/N) and the Naboo believed in, I hope they can look upon me and are proud of the man I’ve become.

“That sounds very peaceful. Can you remember any of their names, or maybe one of your favorites?”

Din’s lips slowly curved upwards into a smile. “My favorite was Samidar. He was a Merquaal and according to the legends, he was an old warrior’s trusted companion, more brave and discerning than even the warrior; they embarked on many adventures together and when Samidar died protecting the old warrior in battle, the Maker was touched by his outpouring of grief and to commemorate the beloved companion, he created a constellation out of the brightest stars in the night sky. It’s silly, I know, but I remember really enjoying that one.”

His wife raised their joined hands to kiss his scarred knuckles and looked at him with adoring eyes. “What do you think of Sami, if it’s a boy?”

“I-It’s perfect, alor’ad. Milla, Sami…both names are absolutely perfect.” Sliding out of his chair, Din sank to his knees and rested his forehead against the captain’s protruding belly, his tear-filled eyes fluttering closed and his smile widening as he felt the moments of their unborn child. “Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum, ner ad’ika.”

“Your dad and I can’t wait to finally meet you,” (Y/N) cooed softly and rubbed her free hand along the chiffon covering her belly, and he could hear the raw emotion in her voice. Now that they’d finally found the perfect names for their baby boy or girl, it was as if the reality of their situation had finally settled in; in about three months’ time, they’d be holding their child in their arms, the living and tangible proof of their endless love for one another, and Clan Mudhorn’s trio would become a quartet.

Grogu, seemingly feeling left out of their tearful conversation, leapt over the table and onto Din’s shoulder with a disgruntled huff, and Din couldn’t help but chuckle and exchange a look with the captain. “Yeah, it’s safe to say that your brother’s even more excited than we are.”

The child nodded and babbled as he stretched a clawed hand out to press against (Y/N)’s stomach, and she let go of Din’s hand to smooth her fingers over their son’s wrinkled head. “Three more months to go, little guy.”

With a content sigh, Din closed his eyes and concentrated on the movements of their unborn son or daughter, diligently committing the sweet moment to memory as his heart swelled with happiness. “Three more months to go.” Thanks to the childbirth classes they’d attended and all the parenting books they’d read, all three of them understood that (Y/N)’s third trimester would certainly be no slice of Uj’alayi but they also knew that as long as they were together, there was nothing in the galaxy that they couldn’t handle. You’re gonna fit right in with the three of us, ad’ika, and we’re gonna love you with everything we’ve got and then some, Din silently told his unborn child, his smile widening and his eyes brimming with fresh tears when they seemingly replied with the gentlest nudge against his cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mando'a Translations:

Alor’ad-Captain Mir’sheb-Smart-ass Ner cyar’ika alor’ad-My darling captain Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum, ner ad’ika-I love you, my little one Uj’alayi-Uj Cake Ad’ika-Little one

A/N: Lol can you tell that I'm fitting in as much fluff as I can before the Mando movie most likely hits us with all the angst? Do you prefer Baby Djarin to be a Milla or a Sami? Comment down below to let me know! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created two Spotify playlists, one filled with of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars and the other compiled with all the songs I listen to for inspiration while writing this series, so if you’re interested in checking them out the links are down below!

Star Wars Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd

Din Djarin/TCoB Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5HIv4pIIgtzRW3Nyv5x7ry?si=15e457550bd94966 Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @elinedjarin @ccomandercody @crowleysqueenofhell @goldielocks2004 @wondergal2001 @groovyqueer @impala1967666 @fluffy-canada-pancakes @icee228 @siimiasoi @uncle-eggy @amyg1509

#taking care of business #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #baby yoda #greef karga #bo katan kryze #carson teva #nevarro #naboo #aq vetina #star wars

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amathslutsguidetofandom · 1 year ago

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you already know what i’m gonna ask for lol. i need my airport man my love. what do you think would’ve happened if he asked me for my number instead of WALKING AWAY or if i magically found him in duty free. BETTER YET what if he just happened to be on the same flight as me?

let’s pretend airport man is steve rogers please. the blonde and that accent gives steve vibes.

Need A Hand? - 1

PAIRINGS: Steve Rogers x Reader

SUMMARY: Flying back to Washington for a family event, you were already ready for it to be over in a week. You didn't want to face the comments from your family about your life as a single working woman. But what happens when you walk into the event accompanied by the stranger you sat next to on the plane? What if that stranger isn't really a stranger?

WARNINGS: Swearing, comments about loneliness from family members, a creepy guy

WORD COUNT: 1,877

ENJOY!

You knew the coffee was cold before the liquid hit your tongue, but you still needed the caffeine. Tipping your head back, you downed the whole thing quickly.

Wincing at the bitter taste, you threw the cardboard cup in the nearest trash can. You knew a 2am flight wouldn’t be the best experience, but you were not going to drive all the way.

You were on the last available flight. You knew your dumbass should’ve booked an earlier ticket, but can you really blame yourself? It’s the middle of December, and people are being stuffed onto planes, wanting to get back to their families for Christmas.

You?

You didn’t want to visit Washington; you had already built your life in the city.

Your family was shocked when you finally revealed you got the position as a Data Analyst at Stark Industries; however, they were even more shocked at your urgency to move ASAP.

They didn’t know that the reason you moved to NYC was because you wanted to leave the nagging and constant subtle unwanted comments behind. It would’ve been one month since you last visited home for Thanksgiving, which didn’t turn out great either; your grandmother made comments on how you didn’t have a man yet.

Rolling your carry-on behind you with one hand, you adjusted the backpack hanging off your shoulders with the other. Your eyes scanned the large gate numbers in hopes of finding the right one.

GATE 23.

You sighed and started heading in the direction of your gate. When you did find a seat in the plethora of people, you called dibs with your eyes and sat down, scrolling mindlessly on social media for the next half an hour.

-------

The aisle seat was somewhat ideal; economy wasn’t the best, but it was something you had to deal with for the next three hours. The man next to you had already started becoming a problem. He started small talk, and you gave in for a while.

“Going to see family?” he asked, looking at you with a wide grin.

You returned a pursed smile, not really wanting to interact with strangers this early in the morning.

“Yeah, family stuff,” you replied, securing your seatbelt and tightening it to fit your waist.

The questions were normal until the man started getting personal. “Got a boyfriend?” he smiled sleazily, and you cringed on the inside.

You fake smiled and replied, “no.” He nodded and gave you a weird smirk. “Why? You’re a gorgeous thing.”

You shuddered slightly and went back to looking at your phone, but he didn’t get the signal. The suggestions he kept throwing your way made you want to gag.

Thankfully, a flight attendant did see you become uncomfortable for a while, and she, in a few minutes, made her way to you.

“Ma’am, we do have a seat up front in business class. In case you are up for the offer?” She smiled sweetly at you but harshly at the man next to you.

You nodded and got up immediately. “I’d like that,” you said, smiling at your savior. “See ya,” you said bitterly to the man next to you and followed the flight attendant after getting your carry-on down from the cabin.

-------

The seats were plusher and nicer; you groaned in comfort when you sank yourself into it. You were sipping on some wine the flight attendant, the one that helped you, poured into a glass and handed over to you.

You gazed outside through the window, enjoying your peace and quiet, until someone cleared their throat in the aisle.

“Sorry, Ma’am, but I, um, I’m your neighbour for the next few hours,” the infamous blonde man chuckled shyly and scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh, shit, yeah. Sorry,” you got up quickly and allowed him to sidle past your seat and sit down, then he shoved his backpack under the seat in front of him. You sat back down and continued to sip on your wine, feeling a tad bit awkward sitting next to Captain America.

“I’m Steve, by the way,” he extended his hand.

You shifted the glass to your left hand, then told him your name while shaking his hand with your right. “I mean, yeah, I know who you are already. So…” you laughed nervously. He chuckled at your answer, “yeah?” To which you nodded again and went back to staring at the seat in front of you.

The lights in the plane dimmed, and you flagged down a flight attendant to hand your glass back to her. Members of the crew made their way up and down the aisle until three of them settled in three different sections of the plane to start the safety demonstration You listened mindlessly, while your heart jogged for a mile as the thought of sitting next to Steve Rogers finally sank in. He did listen to the safety demonstration and actually read the safety brochures, which were tucked into the seat in front of him. Soon, the flight attendants were preparing for take-off.

“What’s taking you to Washington?” Steve asked you, facing your direction. You made eye contact and saw the soft smile he threw your way; you instantly melted in your seat and smiled back.

“Oh, my sister is getting married,” you nodded and adjusted the neck pillow around your neck. He nodded and crossed his arms over his muscled chest. “I see.”

“What about you? I’m guessing something related to ‘Captain America’?” You chuckled nervously as you felt the plane rumble slightly. He laughed at your assumption, “you would think so, but no. Just wanted to visit the place again.”

You nodded in understanding but quickly reached for the armrest when the plane started speeding. You gripped the plastic hard and closed your eyes hard, trying to act normal when really you felt like you were in a washing machine.

“Here,” you heard him whisper. You slowly opened your eyes and saw the big open palm he was offering. You smiled in thanks, grateful for understanding, and intertwined your fingers with his before squeezing it for dear life as the plane lifted from the ground.

-------

You munched on the dry Biscoff’s they handed out during the second hour of the flight. From your peripheral, you saw Steve reading a book and at times glancing out the window.

“Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for the… you know… the hand, during take-off,” you smiled nervously, hoping that you weren’t interrupting him and his reading. He looked up from his book and bookmarked his page before closing it. “Oh, it’s no problem at all,” he smiled at you, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

You always saw him on TV and in the trash magazines your roommate reads, never up close. And now that you were seated literally right next to him, you felt as though he’s just a regular person. It’s not like you can ask him ‘how were the 1940s’, you don’t know him on a personal level.

But you kind of do; you had to study about him in high school during history class. You know where and when he was born, the place where he grew up. Your thoughts were interrupted by the crackling of the pilot’s voice that played through the plane. You couldn’t understand the gibberish he said. “What?”

“We’re about to hit some turbulence,” Steve translated for you, and your jaw dropped.

“Great, more reasons as to why I should’ve driven,” you rubbed your eyes.

He laughed at your annoyance towards the plane you were currently flying in.

You glanced at the book he was reading and saw the title. You instantly had to hold your laugh back as you recognized the ‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire’ book cover.

“Harry Potter, huh?” You pointed at the book in his lap. He looked down at it and nodded. “A friend of mine recommended it. Have you read it?”

You nodded quickly, “oh yeah, it was one of my favourites as a kid.” He smiled at your response.

“I’m a George Weasley girl, all the way. He’s such an underrated character,” you told him as your eyes moved from the book to him.

“Yeah, I think you could say that. But I would say that Hagrid is underrated as well,” he said, adding to your statement. You nodded along, “that is actually quite true, yeah.”

A moment of silence passed before he broke it. “If you don’t mind me asking, you mentioned about going to a wedding?” he asked, craning his neck to face you. You nodded, affirming his assumption.

“Are you going alone?” That made you raise your brows in pure shock.

“Uh, I—yeah,” you shook the confusion from your head. “Why?” You smiled, wondering why he asked you the semi-personal question.

He tucked his chin to his chest a little bit before facing you with the slightest smirk on his face. “Oh, I just thought that a gorgeous woman like you would have been going with someone already.”

You snorted, “WOW.” You really couldn’t believe he just said that.

“Why is that funny?” he smiled at you, a tad bit confused. You chuckled, “I just-‘gorgeous women’? Really?”

He laughed along with you, “I can’t say I’m wrong.” You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent your grin from expanding any further.

------

The next hour or so was filled with you and Steve talking about home and what you two did back in the city.

“Stark Industries? Really?” Steve was genuinely shocked at the revelation of your workplace. He wondered how he never saw you before. He asked how it was, working as a Data Analyst for Tony, and you replied saying that Tony can be immature sometimes, but he does treat you as an equal, unlike your previous jobs.

The flight went smoothly, and you and Steve were in constant conversation. You thought that you never had a conversation this good before. You were actually a bit disappointed when the pilot announced that the plane was about to land soon.

-------

“Need a hand?” Steve asked when he saw you struggling to get your carry-on from the cabin.

“Yeah,” you nodded sheepishly. He flashed you with one of his million-dollar smiles and effortlessly brought your carry-on down from the overhead shelf. You said your thanks and replied with a ‘No problem’.

-------

Steve finally got all of his bags, but you were still standing next to the belt awaiting your final one.

“I guess this is where we part,” you laughed nervously, toying with the strings of your hoodie.

You saw it in his face; he didn’t want to leave you just yet. And you were thankful for that because you didn’t too.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” he smiled, but this time it was sad.

This was bad, really bad. You both didn’t want to leave the other.

“Have a good Christmas,” he finished the sentence off with your name, and your heart fluttered with how it rolled off his tongue. Why did you heart flutter?

You both smiled sadly at each other for the final time before he reluctantly parted ways. Why did he hesitate?

💌💌💌

Genuinely upset you couldn't get your man @yiiiikesmish, hope this helps you soothe your woes babes.

Again, if any of you lovelies want be added to the taglist. Please comment here!!🤗🤗🤗

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

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