#it's also interesting how Dylan was there too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bellaxgiornata · 5 months ago

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The Devil at Your Window |7: In Denial|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 5.2k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

a/n: I think this installment should prove to be very interesting... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza @cloudroomblog @babygirlmurdock @writtenbyred @idontevenknow1359 @scriptedmoon @sarraa-26 @barnes21cz @loves0phelia @3sriracha

You stood in front of the small mirror above your dresser in the bedroom, awkwardly angling your body to get a better view of the shirt you’d just thrown on. It was the second one you’d tried to pair with these jeans, but this was the fourth outfit you’d thrown on for tonight because you'd already over-thought the first three. And staring at your reflection now, you were starting to question this one, too.

After telling your co-worker, Stephanie, to give Dylan your number the other day, he'd called you almost immediately and asked you out on a date far more promptly than you had anticipated. His enthusiasm had taken you by surprise, though nevertheless you had agreed. But even as you’d accepted the invitation, you found yourself having to actively ignore the sinking feeling in your gut when the Devil’s masked face inevitably flashed through your mind. But it didn’t seem likely that he was ever going to ask you on a date–whoever the hell he was.

Granted, you didn’t exactly expect him to, either. After all, he was a masked vigilante who made it a priority to keep himself anonymous while he went out and dealt with criminals in the city. It wasn’t like he spent his evenings out looking for romantic prospects in the process, too.

So now tonight, just days after making the decision to finally give Dylan a chance and to stop waiting around for the masked man, you had your date. You were nervous despite both of you deciding to keep the evening very casual. Instead of heading out somewhere for a fancy meal at a restaurant or sitting through a movie where neither of you could hold a conversation, the pair of you had decided to go out for a few drinks. Something light and informal. Admittedly you were also hoping that being able to have a couple of drinks would help to ease your nerves, especially because it had been awhile since you'd last even gone on a date.

But even though the date was meant to be something relaxed, you'd still spent every minute after you'd arrived home from work trying to get ready for it. You'd brushed your teeth at least three times in the hopes to avoid repelling him with bad breath, and then you’d even anxiously reapplied your deodorant just as many times. You had gone so far as to shave ahead of time, too–just in case. Afterwards, you'd spent far too long contemplating which perfume you'd wear for the evening before landing in your current predicament of trying to find something to wear.

Tearing your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, you grabbed your phone from off the end of your bed to check the time. You groaned in defeat when you saw how late it had already become. With one final look back at yourself in your mirror, you decided to just settle on what you already were wearing. You didn't have time to change again if you were going to meet Dylan at the bar on time.

Leaving your bedroom in a rush, you made your way down the short hallway and through your living room towards your kitchen. Slipping your phone into the purse you had sitting on the kitchen counter, you picked it up and were about to head straight towards your front door, but before you could make your way there to put on your winter coat and boots, the sight of the lilies the Devil had gifted you stopped you in your tracks.

Pausing to observe them, you noticed that they looked more wilted than they even had this morning, drooping over the side of the glass they sat inside. Most of them had also lost a few petals, though some of the remaining ones still held a few dried drops of the Devil’s blood from the other night. Despite their obvious withered state, you’d still kept them on display on your counter ever since.

As you stared at the flowers, you noticed that the glass the bouquet was sitting in was almost out of water. With a frown you slipped the strap of your purse over your shoulder before reaching out and picking it up. You brought the glass over to your sink and pulled the flowers out before dumping the remnants of the makeshift vase's water down the drain. Setting the glass down on the counter, you turned around with every intention of tossing out the old flowers, but after taking a single step towards your garbage can, you hesitated. Glancing down at the lilies in your hand, you noticed that they had certainly lost most of their beauty, but somehow throwing them in the garbage just didn’t feel quite right.

For a moment you stood there, eyeing the specks of red on a few white and pink petals. Gnawing on your bottom lip, you decided that you still weren't quite ready to part with them. Turning back towards your sink, you set the flowers back in the large glass before holding it under your faucet and filling it with fresh water. As you set the makeshift vase back onto your counter, you mentally promised yourself that you’d finally toss them tomorrow. You couldn’t exactly keep them forever.

Without a backwards glance, you left your kitchen and headed towards your apartment door. Beginning to slip on your boots, your mind quickly shifted to your growing first date nerves, and your thoughts about the Devil soon faded to the back of your mind.

Matt’s elbows rested along the bar counter he was sitting at, one finger tapping against the side of his beer bottle. One of his dress shoes was also fidgeting along the floor, his mind currently elsewhere tonight. He was focused on issues in the city that had absolutely nothing to do with Nelson and Murdock, yet here he was accompanying Foggy to Josie’s tonight, pretending like he was here to commiserate over their lack of paying customers and to figure out how they were going to cover the firm’s growing expenses. But really he was counting down the minutes before he could reasonably leave and deal with what Matt deemed to be more pressing problems.

“Maybe we could sell the baked goods for extra cash,” Foggy joked from his place on the barstool beside Matt’s. “I bet Mrs. Gonzalez’s pies alone would make us a fortune.”

“We’d need a permit for that,” Matt said off-handedly. “Can’t just open a shop and sell food on a whim, Fog.”

Matt registered the movement beside him, hearing the way Foggy readjusted his position on the barstool. Focusing closer on his friend, Matt noticed the pull of muscles along his face as Foggy frowned. Matt’s finger tapped a little faster against his beer bottle in agitation; he really wished he was doing more important things right now. Like finding the owner of that seemingly abandoned warehouse he’d stumbled on last night. He’d been itching to throw on the mask all day, but he had promised Fog they’d have this conversation tonight.

“I know, Matt,” Foggy told him. “I wasn’t being serious. But we do need to start figuring out how we’re going to pay all the bills that are piling up. And I think Karen had some good ideas on ways to save on some of our costs. That’s one of the things I was hoping to run by you tonight.”

Matt sighed, his hand wrapping around the neck of his beer bottle. “Alright,” he said, not really interested in the conversation at all. “Hit me with them.”

“Okay, so,” Foggy began enthusiastically, swiveling further towards Matt in his stool, “I think the first idea she had was completely genius.”

Matt drew his beer bottle up to his lips, taking a long pull from it as he only half-listened to Foggy tell him about one of Karen’s ideas. With how uninterested in the subject matter he currently was this evening, Matt’s attention soon began to wander around the bar, picking up on the sound of other patrons playing pool or catching snippets of various conversations. But as Matt had gone to swallow a drink of his beer, one voice in particular captured his full attention in the bar. Pausing with the alcohol still sitting in his mouth, Matt tilted his head slightly over his right shoulder, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he focused on it more closely.

“Oh, I’ve really never been a fan of the winter here. It’s too cold and there’s far too much snow for my liking.”

Why had that woman’s voice sounded so familiar?

Matt sat there for a moment, listening to the woman continue to explain how she preferred the summer months as he tried to place where he'd heard that voice before. And then it hit him.

You. It was you .

Matt’s hand slowly lowered the bottle back to the bar counter as he swallowed his beer, surprise washing over him. He certainly hadn’t expected to hear you here tonight, and now he found himself wondering how long you'd been sitting over there without him noticing. Out of all the times he’d come here with Fog, he’d never once recognized your voice among the crowd at Josie’s, so hearing it now had completely thrown him. Though he knew it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that you might ever come here. Since Matt lived near Josie’s, and you lived practically just across the street from Matt, that also meant you lived near this bar, too.

But still. Here you were sitting at a table in the far corner of Josie’s bar. His bar.

But you weren’t alone. You were sitting at a table with someone else. Curious as to who you were here with and why, Matt shifted in his barstool a little more towards your table, angling himself better as he focused in on who you were talking to. It was only a matter of seconds before Matt heard your companion speak and he realized you were here with a man. His head canting a bit to the side as Foggy still continued on about ways to save money to his left, Matt began to focus on your body.

It didn’t sound like it should have and that had caught his attention immediately. Your heart was beating faster than what constituted a normal rhythm–currently it was beating similarly to how it often did whenever the Devil appeared at your window. Matt could also smell the adrenaline mixed with cortisol wafting off of you, but those hormones were paired with another scent of yours he’d long grown familiar with on his nightly visits to your apartment.

Pheromones.

Realization dawned on Matt as he pieced it all together. You were here on a date. Possibly a first or second one judging by your stress levels and the nervous fidgeting your hands were doing under the table. But you were certainly here on a date. And you were quite obviously attracted to whoever your date was, that much was obvious to him as he observed your body.

Matt’s hand gripped his beer bottle almost to the point of shattering the glass. His jaw tightened as he sat there smelling your attraction to someone that wasn’t the Devil. For some reason sitting here and experiencing your body reacting the way it currently was to someone else bothered him.

He didn’t like it at all.

A hand on Matt’s shoulder abruptly drew him from his thoughts and he startled in his stool at Foggy’s touch. Matt's head darted back in the direction of his friend beside him, feeling a little disoriented as he tried to properly focus his senses.

“You okay, buddy?” Foggy asked in concern. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I’ll be right back,” Matt heard you say. “I’m just going to use the restroom.”

“Yeah,” Matt answered distractedly. “I'm fine.”

Half of Matt's attention was still on you, listening as you'd gotten out of your chair and began to make your way across the bar and towards the bathrooms. When you passed behind the barstools where he and Foggy sat, the familiar scent of you instantly engulfed him. Matt's eyes closed, his body relaxing as the memory of your own warm body wrapped around his almost naked one beneath that blanket surfaced in his mind. Lips parting of their own accord, the taste of your pheromones landed sweetly on his tongue.

An idea struck Matt once he'd heard the women's restroom door open and close. Sitting straighter in his chair, his attention returned to Foggy who'd already resumed discussing his original topic. Matt knew what he was about to do was ridiculous–and honestly incredibly dangerous considering how observant you'd proven to be–but he found himself speaking without first taking a moment to process what had come over him. Because truthfully he wasn't quite sure why he felt compelled to do what he was about to do.

“Actually, you know what?” Matt said, cutting Foggy off as he swiveled in the bar stool. “I don’t think I’m feeling that great after all. Maybe it was that casserole Mrs. Canneli dropped off for lunch,” Matt lied. “I’m just going to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“You going to be alright, buddy?” Foggy asked. “Do you need me to help get you home instead?”

“Let me just see how I feel in a few minutes,” he said in a rush.

Matt slid off of his stool, grabbing his folded cane from off the top of the bar counter as he caught the sound of the faucet running in the women’s restroom. Opening his cane in a rush with one hand, he lightly clapped Foggy on the back with his other. Without wasting another moment, he navigated his own way through the crowd at Josie’s and over towards the bathrooms, his cane running back and forth along the floor as he walked.

When he reached the short hallway where the bathrooms were located, Matt already heard your unmistakeable footsteps making their way towards the bathroom door. Timing things precisely, he stepped directly in front of it just as you stepped out of it. You solidly bumped straight into his chest before stumbling backwards a step. Unable to help himself, Matt’s left hand darted out and lightly grasped your bicep, attempting to keep you from entirely falling over.

“Oh, shit!” you exclaimed, rubbing a hand across your forehead. “I'm so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt said, turning up the charm and fighting down his growing grin. “It was my fault.”

“No, no,” you said, shaking your head as your hand lowered back to your side, “I should have been–”

Matt caught the moment you’d really noticed him as he released your arm. Your breath had briefly hitched, the sound only loud enough for him to catch it. Your heart had begun to beat a little quicker–slightly faster than it had been when you’d been sitting with your date, he noted with pride. A light bit of sweat had begun on your palms which you were now wiping along your jeans.

You thought he was attractive even out of the black suit, even if you didn’t realize you were standing in front of the very same Devil who often so easily got your pulse racing.

“I should have been watching where I was going,” you finished lamely. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to walk right into you.”

“It’s alright, really,” Matt replied, struggling to resist calling you ‘angel’ as he spoke. That would’ve certainly given him away. “I can’t exactly see where I’m going, so you’re not entirely to blame.”

He flashed another smile at you, enjoying the way your heart hammered a little harder in your chest. Even when he wasn’t the Devil he realized he still liked the sound of that.

But then something strange happened.

He felt your body’s reaction to him suddenly shift, something so incredibly immediate that it had taken him off guard. Your eyes had widened, your brows arching up a bit as your head tilted just the tiniest fraction to the side. Your breathing briefly paused as the scent of your cortisol and adrenaline grew heavy in Matt’s nose for a moment. But then your body just as swiftly switched back to frazzled and attracted to him. You lightly shook your head, as if whatever that feeling was had been fleeting, before Matt could even try to make sense of it.

Matt’s smile faltered as he tried to place what had just happened. Was that panic that he’d just picked up from you? Or was it…recognition? Had you somehow figured everything out so easily? Were you really that observant?

Strange.

“I should uh, let you get to the bathrooms then,” you said awkwardly.

“I was just going to make a phone call, actually,” Matt lied quickly, speaking before he could think. “But what if I bought you an apology drink instead? For the headache I’m sure I just gave you.”

You laughed lightly, your hand running across your forehead again. “Thank you but I’m actually here on a date right now. And I should probably get back to them,” you told him. “But again, I’m really sorry for running into you like that. I hope the rest of your night continues with far less injury.”

Matt's smile became tight, his mind reaching for something to say to keep you longer, but then you were maneuvering around him before he could say another word. He listened as you made your way back to your date in the bar while internally kicking himself for having lost the opportunity to try and ask for your name. He’d hoped at the very least he might've gotten it out of you as Matt Murdock tonight once he’d realized you were here.

Standing in the short hallway a minute longer, Matt heard your cheerful voice greet the man you were here with once you returned to your table. His hand gripped around the handle of his cane, squeezing it tight in his fist.

Humming softly to yourself, you placed the clean stack of bowls up into your cabinet. Too preoccupied with getting ready for your date earlier this evening, you’d left your dishwasher full of clean dishes instead of taking a few minutes to put them away. But now that you’d returned home from meeting Dylan at Josie’s, you found yourself full of far too much energy to brush your teeth and crawl into bed and go to sleep despite the late hour.

Turning back towards your dishwasher, you bent down and pulled two glasses out of the bottom rack. As you made your way towards the cabinet where they belonged, you couldn’t fight the smile from growing on your face.

You’d had a shockingly good time with Dylan tonight. He’d been funny and sweet and the conversation between you both had never really dulled for the duration of the night. He was attractive, too. Maybe not as attractive as the Devil in his black suit with his chiseled six pack, but still a handsome man–and one whose face you’d actually been able to see.

All in all, tonight had been a success instead of a failure. You’d even set up a second date for later this week and you found yourself looking forward to it. Stephanie had been more than right thinking the pair of you would get along well because you certainly had.

Reaching up into your cabinet, you set both of the glass cups on the shelf. But before you could even turn around, you heard a deep voice unexpectedly come from behind you.

“You should really lock that window.”

Spinning around on the spot in surprise, you stumbled back into the countertop behind you when you saw you weren't alone. The Devil was standing near your living room window and dressed in his usual tight-fitting black. There was no smile on his face to greet you tonight, but rather a tension you could see in his shoulders and a stern set to his lips. He looked agitated and you found yourself wondering if he’d had a bad night.

“Considering you’re the only one who uses it,” you teasingly began, hoping to lighten his mood as your startled heart gradually calmed, “I figured it only made sense that I leave it unlocked. I mean at this point it’s basically a pet door for a particular favorite stray of mine.”

The Devil’s reaction had been almost instantaneous at your jest. A tentative smile spread its way across his mouth, all traces of the tension in his jaw and shoulders beginning to melt away. He took a few steps towards you, coming to rest both of his gloved hands flat across your countertop. You noticed his masked face briefly fix on the vase of now dying flowers that he’d brought you for just a second before it focused back on you.

“You seem in a particularly good mood this evening, angel,” the Devil commented. “Are you just that excited to see me?”

A flush steadily began to creep up your neck at the fact that he’d noticed your mood. Truthfully, his unexpected appearance in your apartment tonight had increased your happiness this evening, but there was no way you were going to admit that to him. More than likely it would send him right back to jumping straight off your fire escape. So instead you decided on telling him only part of the truth.

“Actually,” you replied, “I had a date tonight.”

His lips twitched at the corners briefly, a gesture so small you’d probably never have noticed if his mouth wasn’t the only thing you could ever completely see on his face. What had that been about?

“A date?” the Devil asked, sounding surprised.

Your eyes flickered over to the side of him, your gaze landing on the vase of wilted lilies. You probably should have tossed those earlier tonight considering how awful they really looked now. Knowing he’d noticed them, you wondered if he might’ve read more into the reason why you still had them on display.

“Yeah,” you answered, your attention returning to him. “A date.”

The Devil’s hands curled into fists along your countertop, that agitated demeanor rapidly returning to him. A tenseness had settled in his smile as he gazed back at you beneath his mask.

“That’s nice,” he replied. “I imagine your date behaved themselves tonight then. Or am I mistaken?” he asked. There was something almost predatory in the way his smile suddenly curved a little more as he continued. “Does the Devil need to pay someone a visit this evening?”

Your brows jumped up onto your forehead in shock. Had he just offered to assault your date? But as he continued to stand there on the other side of your kitchen counter with that menacing smile on his beautiful mouth, you realized he’d been joking.

With a laugh, you shook your head as you made your way back over towards your dishwasher. Bending down, you retrieved a few clean plates that still needed to be put away.

“No, he was a complete gentleman,” you informed him, carrying the stacked plates back to the cabinet you’d put the cups in moments ago. “We just had a few drinks at some bar nearby. I think it was called Josie’s. Have you heard of it?”

Closing the cabinet door, you turned back around to face the masked man. The predatory smile had vanished and was currently replaced with a faint frown. As you eyed him curiously, you wondered where his usual joking demeanor had disappeared to tonight.

“Yeah, I know of it,” his deep voice responded. “Not the most romantic choice for a date if you ask me. Sure you don’t want me to hit him for you?”

Laughing again, you bent over and grabbed a couple of coffee mugs from your dishwasher next. “It was just a first date,” you explained, “and we both agreed on doing something really informal to take the pressure off.” You shrugged, carrying the mugs over to the cabinet above your coffee maker. “And I don’t know, I kind of liked the place, personally.”

Setting the mugs on the shelf, you heard the Devil release a noise behind you that you could only classify as an irritated grunt. The sound caused you to curiously pause, attempting to make sense of it.

“So you never said how the date went,” he pointed out. “Did it go well?”

A flutter of something flickered in your stomach at the question as you slowly turned back around towards him. It didn't help that it felt like his eyes were boring a hole into you beneath that black mask. Why was he so curious about your date this evening? He seemed to be asking quite a few questions about it.

You shrugged a shoulder. “It went well,” you replied. “He seemed nice.”

The Devil’s lips curved up into a sarcastic smirk beneath his mask, his head nodding lightly. “Nice, huh? Good for him.”

Your eyes tightened further at him, studying the way his muscles seemed to tense once more beneath his black clothes. Your gaze lowered, catching the way his left hand continued to open and close into a fist repeatedly along your countertop like a nervous fidget.

Or an angry one.

Wait, you thought, your eyes still glued to the fist he continued to clench and unclench. Is the Devil…jealous?

But no, that couldn’t have been. He’d already come here in an off mood, that was probably all it was. Why would he care that you'd gone on a date? He'd have to have feelings for you for that to have bothered him. And you didn't want to hope too hard for something so unlikely.

“So did anything else interesting happen?” the Devil pried. “While you were on your date?”

Your attention returned to his masked face at the odd question. One of your brows arched back at him, your eyes narrowing even further. You definitely weren’t imagining it, though, he was unusually curious this evening.

“Interesting like what?” you asked.

“Well,” he began, turning around towards your kitchen table and lightly rapping his knuckles along the surface of it. “Did you witness any bar fights maybe? I mean the guy took you to a dive bar as a first date after all. I’m sure you must've at least met some curious people there, angel. At least one.”

Opening your mouth, you tried to ignore his uncharacteristic bitter tone as you were about to remind him that you'd been there on a date and that you hadn’t been trying to meet anyone else. But then you remembered the handsome blind man in the suit that you'd quite literally run into by the bathrooms and you immediately stopped short. With his back towards you, you noticed the way the Devil’s spine had straightened, his fist momentarily pausing its repeated movement against your table before it continued a second later.

The guy at Josie’s had been intriguing to say the least. And it almost seemed like he'd been flirting with you. Had you not been there with Dylan you might have accepted his offer to have a drink with him, especially considering that weird feeling you'd strangely gotten hit by when you’d been talking to him. Almost like you knew him somehow, like you could trust him. And you had really wanted to make more sense of that feeling.

But logically you knew you'd most likely never see that guy again.

“No,” you lied. “I only met my date. Because I was, you know, there on a date , Devil.”

The Devil’s gloved hand uncurled from its tight fist, his head tilting marginally over his shoulder back towards you. For a moment he stayed like that in complete silence as you curiously watched him in return. Then very slowly, he turned around towards you, his hidden gaze seemingly on you beneath the mask. A very faint, almost satisfied smile crossed his lips as he stared at you–and then it disappeared just as fast as you'd seen it.

How strange , you thought. He's acting more unusual than normal.

“So I’m your favorite stray then, am I?” he teased, changing the subject.

You watched as his usual easy smile slipped onto his mouth beneath the mask as if it had been there this entire time. His sudden mood changes tonight were beginning to give you emotional whiplash at this point. Because now he was standing there by your table, all traces of his agitation having seemingly disappeared.

“Yes,” you answered, choosing to let his weird behavior go this evening. Heading back over to your dishwasher, you bent down to grab another coffee mug out of it. “Granted, you're also the only one using my window like a pet door,” you pointed out. “So that sort of makes you–”

Your sentence died in your throat. When you'd stood up and turned around to go and put the coffee mug away, you'd noticed the Devil had quietly closed the distance between you both. Now he was standing so close to you that when you'd gasped in surprise at his proximity, his hips had brushed against your body.

You couldn't breathe, not with his masked face hovering so close in front of your own. A surge of desire hit you strong and hard, everything about your date this evening fading from your mind as your eyes remained fixed on his parted lips. There was absolutely something undeniable happening right now; the tension between you both hung too heavy in the air to believe otherwise.

Breath coming in shallow, you'd forgotten that you were even holding something in your hand. Without warning you lost your grip, the coffee mug slipping from your loose fingers. But instead of it tumbling towards the ground, the Devil’s hand snapped forward and caught it half an inch from your hand. Wordlessly he reached around you, simultaneously trapping you further between himself and the kitchen counter as he set the mug down.

And then he stayed there, with the front of himself pushing you back into your counter so hard that you felt it biting into your lower back. His hand rose up in the minimal space between you both before lightly landing along your cheek. His gloved thumb brushed back and forth over your cheekbone so tenderly that your eyes fluttered shut beneath it.

Exhaling a shuddering breath, you willed him to just put you out of your misery and kiss you already. The suspense and the back and forth were killing you. He had to be feeling something for you. His attitude tonight could only be attributed to jealousy, nothing else made sense. So this had to be the moment he just finally kissed you. It had to be.

An agonizing minute passed and all he'd done was remove his hand from your cheek. Your own hands still had a death grip on the counter behind you, keeping you steady as you desperately waited for something more to finally happen. But when nothing did, you released a defeated sigh and opened your eyes, wondering what was going through his mind right now.

But he was gone.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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lukemfhughes · 1 month ago

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At the lake house

Luke Hughes x reader

note: I AM BACK. Hello darlings, long time since i have been here and now its my time to drop this out of my drafts! If liked i will write part 2!

Summary: y/n is brought to the lake house first time after becoming friends with the umich (100 &101) boys and one of the boys seem to be more interesting than others...

wc: 800

"I'm excited!" You exclaimed to the boys while sitting on the front seat of Lukes car. "that is nice, hope you will enjoy the summer here" Luke smiled slightly to you.

You had been starting your soph year in Michigan after transferring from Nebraska when you had met the boys. You were so lucky to find friends like them because transferring was scary for you. You had been playing volleyball in Nebraska but not getting playtime started annoying you way too much and made the best decision for yourself. You met the boys in frat party when some football guy was trying to harass you.

"umm can you stop" you tried to wiggle away of the guys grasp. "come on doll, lets have some fun" he grinned at you. Suddenly he was pulled off of you and thrown to the floor. Four boys were standing around him. You looked at them with wide eyes. "Are you okay?" a boy with curly hair asked you. His concerned face filled your vision while you heard the other boys carrying the football guy away. "i am, thanks to you guys" you answered and looked at your feet before looking back up at the boy. "good. I'm Luke, luke Hughes." He said and stuck his hand out. "I'm y/n y/l/n, are you an athlete?" You asked and shook his hand. "I am, i play hockey at umich." He smiled widely. "Wow, i play volleyball at umich." You smiled back at him. The other boys came back in. "y/n these are ethan, mark and dylan, they're my teammates. Boys this is y/n" Luke introduced.

Thats how you met the boys back then. Now you were arriving to the Hughes brothers lake house with them for the first time ever. You had heard a lot stories from summers before this one. The car pulled up to the lake house and holy shit it was big you thought. You got out of the car and went to get your bags but saw luke and ethan carrying them already. you smiled to them and mouthed small 'thanks'.

You entered the house behind luke and the view to the lake was calming. "the others must be out at the lake" Luke said while jogging up the stairs with you trailing behind. Luke showed you your room for the summer. It was cute, small but cute. clock was about 8pm and the other boys who were at the lake finally returned.

"y/n this my brothers Jack and Quinn. And those are their friends trevor, cole alex and elias." Luke introduced and you were reciving bunch of small hi's from all of them. You regonized them all. From instagram and when watching NHL with the boys. "well lets go down to the firepit" Quinn said and grabbed couple cans of beer from the fridge. everyone did so also and headed out to the firepit. Mark and Dylan started beer pong game againts alex and trevor. You sat down between ethan and jack.

"So y/n how did you meet these douchebags?" Jack asked you. "well we met at umich and just kinda bonded well i guess." You answered and smiled slightly. "Right right, do you play some sport there?" He asked. "yes i do, i play volleyball. i transferred from nebraska after my freshman year there." You said "Wow thats nice, have you liked Michigan?" He continued. "Yes! I have loved it. I have to ask but are you the 'I didn't know there was a city in New Jersey' guy?" You asked and chuckled. His eyes widened and he blushed. "Umm if i say no do you belive me?" He mumbeled. You just laughed at him. Jack had noticed his little brother staring at them from distance. "So you and my brother?" Jack asked. The beer from your mouth was spit out of your nose and mouth. "What?" you coughed. "Aren't you two a thing or?" Jack continued and you shook your head as no. "sometimes you just act like it." Ethan jumped into the converstation. "I don't know what are you talking bout" you said and left to get more drink. You heard the boys laugh after you.

You closed the fridge and found Luke standing behind the door. "Holy shit luke!" you screamed. He just smugly smiled at you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You hugged him back. "so you and jack seemed to get along huh?" he asked you. "We were just chatting a bit you know trying to get along with the others too" you answered while pulling away. "okay okay that's good if you don't forget me tho" he mumbeled quietly. you chuckled at him. "I could never forget you Lukey" You smiled and ran your fingers trough his hair.

Part 2????

#umich hockey #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes #nj devils #ethan edwards #dylan duke #mark estapa #luke hughes blurb #jack hughes #quinn hughes #usa hockey #alex turcotte #trevor zegras #cole caufield #hughes brothers #elias pettersson

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cuteandhughesy · 4 months ago

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Dazed & Confused | Simon Benoit

summary: working for the leafs social media team was nothing short of uneventful - especially when a blonde french man is adamant on making you flustered.

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Prologue:

you first saw simon benoit in passing. you remember the moment all too well.

dylan, your boss and head co- ordinator for the toronto maple leafs social media team, needed you to cover a pre-season game after the usual instagram girl called in sick. you usually worked more with the youtube page and tiktok account, but willingly stepped up when he asked. after all, it was still grabbing content - and you were used to that.

you remember standing in the players tunnel to capture a video of the team getting ready to take the ice. simon breezed passed you in a cloud of woodsy spice and bright eyes. he didn't really notice you, only sending a brief nod and closed lipped smile in your direction before jogging away.

you barley saw his face, and you didn't recognize the name on the back of the blue jersey. you were intrigued, but didn't seek out for answers - just did the job and left.

you didn't think about him much after that - not until he got called up to play on the leafs back end for the foreseeable future. then, simon benoit was always around; practices, team meals, games and everything in between. he became a solid member of the toronto maple leafs.

he was always polite and friendly. you were smitten as soon as you got a proper look at his face and he flashed you an award winning smile. simon was all dirty blonde mullet, tattoos and moustache...it was unfair, really. in the few weeks he's been playing with the team, you've also noticed how much of a determined and hard player he was. you could tell he really loved what he did. they way he battled for the puck, threw his body around and blocked any shot no matter the speed - and all that made you even more interested in him.

to say you were currently nervous was an understatement: you were quite literally trembling. your mouth was dry and underarms moist as you set up the tripod for the teams filming camera. your dress - although professional - was flowing freely, brushing your tan knees in a way that was almost overstimulating.

normally, getting equipment ready to film content was fine - easy, even. but the presence of the 6 foot 4, deliciously scented, handsome canadian was enough to throw you off your game. just the thought of having to soon converse with simon, has your body feeling trembly. thankfully, you could pass as being chilled: the slight breeze providing the excuse.

"you're not cold?" the sound of simon's french accent has you tensing up in the shoulders. you'll have to talk to him much sooner than you intended, and you feel yourself get warm at the thought.

as nonchalant as you can manage, you pretend to fiddle with one of the dials on the video recorder, although you'd already adjusted it all properly - you needed a distraction when you spoke. you clear your throat, "no, this is a treat compared to toronto."

although it was Anaheim, it was still january and the wind did bring a chill to your exposed skin. in that moment, you wished you brought your jean jacket along instead of leaving it in your hotel room. with that in mind, it was still much warmer than winter back home.

simon laughs once, crossing his arms over his sweater clad chest. the material tightens over his biceps so wonderfully, and you have trouble focusing. "yes, true but you've just got a dress on...i've got a shirt on if you want to borrow my - "

the thought of wearing his clothing and getting to smell his cologne was just too much. even though him just offering his sweatshirt sent your heart ablaze.

"i'm good," you interrupt, eyes finally dashing up to meet the man before you. his gaze is soft on you, and the way his hair sticks out from beneath his hat is almost endearing. you send him a close lipped smile when he gives you a concerned look, clearly weary of your tone. "thank you, though, simon."

his lip quirks up on one side, "just call me benny."

you tuck a loose hair that's fallen from your messy braid behind your ear, hands falling from the pointless fiddling on the camera. "did I say your name wrong?" your brows crease together, worried that he was only giving you his nickname because you butchered his actual one.

simon shakes his head quickly, arms uncrossing. "no, no. it's just..." you quirk a brow as if urging him to continue. he breaths a laugh, "nothing, it's okay."

you don't read into his dismissal and remove the clipboard out from where it was tucked between your ribcage and bicep. immediately you feel relief from where the metal clip was digging into your boob. "okay, benny, just to go over this one more time - it's a get to know you for our tiktok so all the questions are probably ones you've answered a million times so I apologize for that...ummm," you meet his eyes and they widen when you see he's smirking back at you. you clear your throat, and look back to your clipboard. "we are already rolling so if you're ready, we can start?"

his arms cross again, and his chest bulges out. "i'm always ready."

"is that so?" for some reason, you decide to tease him. you're not sure where your sudden confidence has come from, but you don't back down - looking up through your lashes to watch his face for a reaction.

his tongue pokes his cheek and he snickers, "oh yeah." you're not sure if he's trying to sound seductive, but it works, and your face flushes red. his suggestive tone has your spark of confidence disappearing and you dart your eyes down quickly, "how do you properly pronounce your name?"

"are you asking or is this the first question?" he teases, hands clasping behind his lower back. although now you can't stare at his veiny hands and long fingers, the way his chest broadens at the pull has all your attention. "I can't tell."

you subtly shake your head to pull yourself together. "I thought you were always ready?" you hum, sending him a playful glance. you're not sure how confident your teasing remark comes across, but you still keep the eye contact.

simon laughs a real hearty laugh and the sound sends your stomach swooping. "touché" he muses. "simon benoit." he answers your question without being asked again, and his thick accent has you feeling flustered.

clearing your throat once, "any nicknames?" you ask.

"just benny," he smiles.

the breeze picks up again -the anaheim air smelling like ocean. hints of grass from the golf course you and the team were at currently filling your nostrils. "you lived here in california for a few years, where was your favourite spot to go to?"

simon hums momentarily, "I think, uh, laguna beach, it's a pretty cool spot - a little artsy hippie, I liked it a lot."

you hum lightly, tucking the same piece of hair that's fallen out your braid back behind your ear. "artsy and hippie huh?"

his lip quirks up, "what? do I not look like the type?"

you just shrug lightly, "no no, just wasn't expecting that. maybe some practice rink or expensive cafe"

"c'mon i'm not that shallow," he laughs. simon notices your eyes almost sparkle when you tease him, and you always have to fight back a wide smile. he likes the way you flush when he teases you back, and he wonders if you always get flustered when doing media with the team.

your quiet laughs fades, and you look down at your clipboard again. "do you have a favourite spot in toronto?"

his arms go over his chest again, and he sways back and forth slightly. "yeah, I like trinity bellwoods. it's a nice spot. cool little cafes, nice park."

your eyes brighten ever so slightly, "so I wasn't wrong about the expensive cafes?"

simon splutters twice with amusement, "who said it was expensive?"

you giggle, "all toronto cafes are, benny."

he breaths a laughs, "well, one day I can take you. then you can decide if it's expensive."

you have to fight a smile. this was not helping your case- I mean, he was practically asking you on a date...right? maybe he was just being friendly, or maybe just keeping the conversation rolling. regardless, you flush at his words and look away, "we will cut that don't worry."

simon just shrugs, "doesn't matter." although he seems nonchalant with his words, there's a small part of his pride that flares knowing you didn't want anybody to watch the way he flirted with you - that you wanted to keep it between you both.

you fight a smile. "what's in? and what's out?"

his brows pull together, "what does that mean?"

"like, what do you want to see more of this year? and what's something you want to see less of?"

"ahhh, I see," he hums, "let me think."

the breeze picks up again and you shiver gently. on the golf cart behind you, your coworker, james, shoves his headphones off one ear. he's sitting on your shared cart with the teams editing laptop, making sure the shot on the camera is correct and the audio is working - all the boring stuff you hated doing. "y/n," he hums, "can you adjust benny's microphone, i'll let you know when it's good again."

fuck, you think.

"yeah, sure," you nod gently. you move towards simon with as much confidence as you can muster, avoiding the way he watches your every move with a playful little smile.

you can smell that same spicy scent he is always wearing as you step into his space, and you feel faint. "just...stay still for a moment." you whisper into the air between you and the quebec native.

"okay," he says back just as quietly, mirroring your tone. only as you concentrate on keeping your cool, simon is smirking softly down at you.

you hope he can't see the shake in your hands as you reach up to the collar of his maple leaf branded sweatshirt. you start adjusting the microphone with expertise, james calling out directions as you do so.

you can feel simon still staring down at you, and you wonder if he's still got that sexy smirk on his face or not. he shifts, hands moving to sit on his hips.

"stay still," you remind him, eyes darting up to meet simon's. your tone is harsher than intended, but you can't help it. being so close to him had you feeling nervous and tense and james still didn't have the audio and -

"you're kind of bossy," simon laughs.

you hear james call out from behind you both, telling you the audio is back and the video can continue. although his words fall on deaf ears, simon's statement the only thing you can concentrate on. "what?" you splutter, hands falling back to your sides and away from the man in front of you. "i'm not bossy."

"shame," simon teases gently, "I like bossy,"

your eyes go wide, and you shoot a glance over your shoulder to your co-worker. james doesn't look up, but he's smirking - because he can literally hear you both word for word.

"wha - no, i- shhh," you panick, face surely flushed bright red and if somebody was to reach out and touch it - they'd get burnt from the heat.

simon smirks at your reaction. he leans in close to the microphone clipped to your dress, sitting between your boobs. "james, cut that out." he says.

if you weren't frozen (and kinda turned on) you would've moved away, but you didn't. too wrapped up in the smell and voice and aura of simon benoit.

"i've got it," simon says once he straightens back up to his full height.

"got what?" you don't mean to whisper but you do, face still beating red.

"my answer," he teases, "are you ready? or do you need a minute?"

you scoff highly, "yes, i'm ready! you were the one with the microphone problem." you wave your hands rather frantically in the direction of his chest.

you can hear james stifle a laugh behind you.

"I'm teasing you," simon says. he has the strongest urge to tuck that damn piece of hair behind your ear, but he doesn't want to scare you. there's also an audience, and you've also only just properly met. so instead, he smirks, shoe nudging against yours.

"oh, okay." you heat up with something you think is embarrassment, "let's get on with it then, god, benny"

your attempted dig back is successful and has simon laughing loudly as you retreat back a few feet to behind the tripod. you pick up your abandoned clipboard on the grass and you ask the question again.

the filming don't last much longer, and simon continues to flirt with you - very much unbothered by the fact your co-worker can hear his every word. everytime your cheeks turn pinker and you have to fight a smile: simon gets a little bit more smitten. when you end the video, he protests once and says he's having too much fun and that has your heart fluttering.

simon bids goodbye then with a smirk and a gentle nudge to your side. you busy yourself with packing up the tripod so you don't have to face james with a flushed face.

it's no use though, because he comes up to you and clears his throat knowingly.

"what?" you hiss.

james has always been your closest co-worker. you'd even consider him your closest friend outside of the rink. in fact, you spend most evenings with james and his boyfriend at their apartment watching 2000's movies and eating unhealthy snacks until your stomachs are on the verge of exploding.

"you think he's cute, don't you?"

"no," you say immediately. "well, he's not ugly - but, no no he's just-i'm just-"

"you know he was flirting with you, right?" james teases, rolling up one of the cords around his forearm. "but based on your permanently red face...you knew, and you liked it."

you splutter, "he's just being friendly."

"whatever you say," james teases in your ear, turning away to pack up the laptop. "but, so you're aware...he couldn't keep his eyes off you for more than 10 seconds."

you swallow hard at that.

the rest of the day you kept catching simon's eyes and everytime he gave you that smirk that had you melting.

Part One: (A)

ever since that interview, anytime you and simon had to interact, he was always getting you flustered. you're not even sure if he was meaning to flirt with you - but boy was he good at it. even thinking of simon had your chest flushing and ears burning, leaving you to fan yourself with sheets of paper while james gives you a smug look: it's fine...really. three weeks have passed of sweet teasing, brushing limbs and trying to ignore the sultry smirk he always seemed to sport when you cracked around him.

the hallways of the practice arena were dimly lit and the cool air wafted through the halls from the rink just a few turns away: chilling your bones.

james wasn't working with you today. he was back at the main arena working on editing the first set of blueprint videos for the leafs youtube channel. so you stood by yourself, phone held in one of those janky tripods that tilt dramatically to the left when you touch it.

with free hands you hold onto the stained whiteboard that held your question of the day: would you rather be a cowboy, pirate or samurai? the question came after mitch marner was bugging you for questions about cowboys (his yellowstone obsession was getting worse).

it only took three players before simon sauntered his way over. he peeks around ryan reaves, who's stopped to read the question. "samurai," reaves decides, gum clicking between his teeth as he passes by.

simon tucks one of his gloves under his arm and uses his bare hand to scratch his growing goatee. your eyes linger on his lips momentarily, watching the way the move - oh, he's talking to you.

"what?" you mumble, blinking three times fast.

he laughs, and you swear his cheekbones becomes dusted with a faint pink. "I asked what would you pick?"

another player passes and calls out there answer.

"you're the one whos supposed to answer the question, benny, not me."

"but I wanna know you have to say," he quips with a raise to his brow and an upwards tug to his lip.

your spit thickens and you swallow nervously under his tense gaze. "i'm very busy and you're distracting me right now."

simon really laughs at that and you have look away. "i'm not distracting you - i'm trying to give you content."

you blush, "whatever."

simon takes a step closer to you, and on his skates he's even taller than normal- no doubt reaching 6"5. you crain your neck back slightly to keep eye contact. "are you going to answer my question?"

simon smirks down at you, eyes meeting the whiteboard touching your belly once more. "captain jack sparrow."

you squint at him, "what? that's not a proper answer."

"yes it is," he chimes, "the pirate one: so i'd be captain jack sparrow. he's badass, no?"

you'll have to edit most of this interaction out the video, you think. the swearing and his teasing and the way he looks down at you...it's all too much for your crushing heart and the fans speculating will just be overwhelming.

you stand your ground, keeping eye contact and pray your face doesn't go too much redder. "just because you pick pirate, that's no guarantee you'd be jack sparrow."

mitch marner approaches you both and answers samurai - which goes against his begging for the damn cowboy question. as you and mitch bicker about it his answer, simon notices the way you're more confident in the eye contact with his teammate and you don't blush...at all.

it has simon swelling with pride that's he's the only one you react to that way and the thought has a fire lighting under him. wordlessly, he slips past you both with a smile on his lips.

you edit the videos on the unoccupied visitors bench after you captured some on ice videos of the team during practice. you were sitting beside the teams photographer for a good chunk of the practice before you left to go into one of the spare rooms to pack up your stuff and head home.

you could hear the players laughing in the dressing room as they undress and pack up. you end up tweaking the video more on your computer, taking up another 20 minutes of time. you're still shoving things into your shoulder bag when you leave the room, checking the oversized compartments to make sure you've got everything.

so you're not looking where you're going, and you're reprimanded when you bump into a body. the impact sends the bag off your shoulder, loose papers flying out and pens rolling across the concrete.

"i'm sorry, I wasn't -" you look up to see a smiling simon, hand on your shoulder to steady you. the sight and feeling of him as you stopping your scentence.

"my apologies," he says. "I didn't see you."

you give him a skeptical look, "you didn't see me?"

simon did see you: he just wanted to try and get you flustered again. plus any excuse to talk to you from here on out, he was going to take. "swear." the smirk he's sporting has you believing him even less.

simultaneously, you both bend down to collect the spilled items. it's then when you notice simon is dressed in his regular clothing, a hoodie and a pair of athletic pants. he's got his winter parka on as well.

he passes you your pens and you shove them back into the branded bag, standing to your full height. "thanks," you nod, "I didn't take you for such a gentleman."

he stands as well, passing you a loose laptop cord. "you think i'm a gentleman?" there's a teasing tone underlying in his voice.

your eyes are drawn to his black coat again, and your brows pull together. he was clearly leaving, but both entrances were the other way: in the direction you had been headed. the rink, the dressing room, none of that was down were you two collided. "depends," you hum, "do gentleman purposely try and knock me on my ass? or is that just you?"

simon kisses his teeth, looking down to the floor briefly. "just me I think."

his honesty has you fighting back a giggle. you have to bite onto your bottom lip from cracking, but the corners of your mouth still tug upwards. "thought so."

"I wasn't trying to knock you down - which, by the way, didn't happen," he muses, "I was trying to find you."

"why?" you drag out, hands clasping onto the strap of your heavy bag.

"to walk you out," he says in a 'duh' manner. you give him another skeptical look, and he sighs gently "I'm trying to get to know you, y/n. just go with it and treat your new co-worker - me, by the way, nicely." he's teasing you again, a glimmer to his eyes as they watch for your reaction.

"alright," you nod as you start walking down the hall. simon follows quickly, falling into step with your much smaller strides. "it's not like, a part of your job or anything though...to get to know me. you don't have to spend time with me."

he laughs beside you, his coat covered bicep brushing against your shoulder. "I know. doesn't mean that I don't want to spend time with you."

you two reach the door to the parking garage, and he holds it open for you to slip through after him. you smile in thanks, that all familiar heat making it appearance on your skin. "thats nice of you to say, really."

"see," he smirks as he comes to a stop, "I can be an actual gentleman - not just the creepy kind who stalks around the arena until he finds you."

you do laugh out loud at that, all your teeth shining and simon admires the way your face looks while you smile. "stalked the arena until you found me huh?"

he shrugs like he's not embarrassed, which has you beaming even more. "what can I say? i'm very determined to make you blush and do that spluttering thing you do when we speak."

you can't tell if you've paled or gone red, his call out has you feeling light headed and nervous and overwhelmed. "is it that noticeable?" you laugh gently. the panick must be all over your face because simon immediately steps forward, "no, it's okay. it's endearing...I kind of like it."

your brows raise in question and you slightly scoff, "you like watching me get flustered and embarrassed?"

his eyebrows pull together, "what? god no, I like that i'm the only i've seen that can get you like that."

"what is this?" you question, "are you hitting on me? because, you - I can't - we're not allowed to date or whatever without like a 15 page report and - i'm sorry I don't know what's happening. what's happening?"

although his eyebrows shoot up at your rambling, he looks very endeared. "I'm hitting on you, y/n. that's what's happening. is that okay?"

"no!" you say quickly. your eyes close with regret, "no, I meant yes. it's okay but you can't...not really. especially in front of my co-workers and the team. remember! the 15 page report we'd have to fill out if people even thought -"

simon reaches forward, gently tucking a straight strand of your hair back and behind your pierced ear. his gentle touch from his large hand has you pausing, eyes glimmering as you stare up at him.

"okay."

"okay?" you repeat with a squeak. "what does that mean?"

he laughs gently, his hand trailing down your strand of hair and off your body. "it means that i'll be careful when we flirt."

you feel yourself get hot. "seriously, I can get in so much trouble."

"do you want me to stop?" simon asks you gently, "because if you really don't want to continue this, i'll walk away and we can forget it."

with a pondering moment and a shake of your head, you mumble, "no, I don't want you to stop."

"you won't get in trouble, okay?" he hums, "i'll just act normal and just be my normal self...only with secret intentions that nobody will catch on to." he smirks and you laugh through a shaky breath, eyes meeting the floor quickly as you begin to flush a deep burgundy.

simon catches the flush. "there it is," he whispers, hand reaching out to brush against the soft skin of your cheek.

you clear your throat. like with any man you've encountered, there is that nagging voice in your head that reminds you of everything that could go wrong. that what you think could be their intentions are possibly far from it - cheating, toxicity, fake feelings, a bet...everything that could break your heart. with that in mind you meet his eyes again, and you begin to knaw at your bottom lip. you try not to sound guilty when you say, "i'm not trying to date anybody...right now."

you tuck your hands into your coat pockets nervously, already preparing for the blow up and curse out from the man infront of you. he will get mad at your confession...maybe even-

"that's fine," he says immediately, halting the million little thoughts of panic swirling in your head. you exhale in relief, releasing your lip in favour of a smile.

simon mimicks your expression and then says something that has your heart stopping in the best possible way. "but with the most respect i'm not going to stop trying to change your mind."

"he said what?!!" james asks you loudly. you sink further into the white couch cushions of his apartment, hands covering your face.

"that he's not going to stop trying to change my mind." your voice comes out muffled from behind your hands.

james leans forward and pulls your palms away from your face. "and you're telling me you didn't pull him into the back seat of your car and pounce on him after that? it's kind of the hottest thing i've ever heard."

you groan, "I don't know what to do now. or what to say, god, what the hell. I really like him, james. I have an actual crush on this man."

"then why didn't you just say fuck it and do something about it? and don't give me the paperwork excuse, y/n."

"because..." you sigh, your thoughts of doubt once again drowning you. "what if this is all just some sort of thing he does? like...what if i'm just a notch on his belt? something different or someone new that he can't help but try and get with." your pick the skin around your thumb, the sting serving as a distraction. "so I told him I wasn't ready because im scared to get fucked over. i'm trying to protect my peace."

your friend gives you a pitiful look, no doubt memories of your previous relationship and break up making an appearance in his mind.

you had dated you last boyfriend for 4 years and it was awful. sure, the beginning was great but as you two grew as a couple, it got more toxic and exhausting. he cheated on you with a friend and it was all just a shitty situation. hence your hesitation with simon and the thoughts of doubt you were experiencing.

"I get that," james hums, pulling your into a tight side hug, "and I love you so much and never want you to go through that again. just...feel simon out.

let him continue getting you all...blushy and weird as long as you're comfortable- which, judging by your confession earlier - you're very comfortable." you smack your friends arms and he laughs. james continues, "and if you're still feeling doubtful, then it's not meant to be."

Part One: (B)

february 8th was a busy day for you and the leafs social media team. it was the annual outdoor practice and family skate at nathan phillips square downtown - which was a huge day for content.

the TTC was always packed, but even more so with the presence of the toronto maple leafs on board. most of the team wasn't able to find sitting room on the subway, so they were all spread out through the packed cart, shoved between fans and other passengers.

you tug on your lanyard as a nervous habit, eyes dancing through bodies. you find james on the other side of the subway cart. he's holding up one of the teams phones, live streaming for the instagram account. today you opted for purely tiktok content, which would really start once you got to the rink and off the hectic subway.

the TTC comes to a screeching stop at one of the many stops along the way to your destination, and the movement jolts you backwards. "sorry!" you say.

a large hand touches your leather clad hip delicately, steadying your sway. "looks like you're the one trying to knock me on my ass this time." the thick french accent gives simon away immediately.

you turn around so you're facing him. "you're lucky you made yourself known, I was ready to sock a stranger in the face for touching me."

he laughs loudly - too loudly for a public setting and it has you looking around nervously. "i'm kind of upset you only just realized I was standing behind you. I must not have a distinctive presence."

he does have a distinctive presence, you think. you could smell his cologne as soon as the cart started moving, but you were too nervous to turn and look to find out if was him. instead of telling him he smells good and making a fool of yourself, you hum, "I can't take you seriously with that mask on your face."

you see his lips curl into a smirk through the home-made cut out on his black face warmer. "you don't like it?"

"it's awful," your smile betrays your words and that has simon's grin widening. "I can't see your face, only your mouth, it's kind of creepy."

"is that why you keep staring at my lips?" he teases quietly.

you splutter, "well, they are the only thing I can see."

suddenly, simon grabs you waist, tugging you closer and spinning you around so your back is now facing the row of seats that were previously to your right. "what are you doing?" you panick, eyes dancing around to make sure nobody is watching.

"relax," he muses, "you were in the way."

your brows burrow, "In the way...oh," you stop once a little old lady shuffles past, leaning on her walker as she moves through were you once were standing. "I'm surprised you could see her with those crazy tinted glasses."

"wow! you are on fire today," simon muses, releasing your waist. "I like it."

you flush deep, "good." simon's brows raise at your words, and you wish you could see his eyes. at the same time, you think, you were only so bold because you couldn't watch him stare at you.

Instead you focus on his mouth, the smooth pink lips and his moustache peeking out from the mask.

"you're staring again," he whispers. "is it my moustache that you like?" you flush and he smirks, "wanna ride it?"

your face falls and you become impossibly redder. he brightens at your reaction and laughs with amusement. "si!" you screech out. "you flirt in the most awkward situations."

"you know you love it," simon remarked, "you should call me si all the time, I like it."

"does anybody even call you that?"

"no," he hums, "just you."

his arm is caging you in, his veiny hand griping the bar above your head to steady himself. the cart halts again, making you bump into william nylander behind you and it had you snapping out of the trance.

"sorry willy," you mumble.

then willy mentions a certain clip you wanted to get of him walking off the train and you break away from the quebec native to plan with william and directing him like normal.

the short walk form the TTC station to nathan phillips square wasn't long. you got lots of fun videos of the boys during the trek and when you weren't recording, morgan rielly was talking your ear off about his girlfriend and dog who you always asked about.

the fans were always amazing, and you were never less than shocked at how many showed up to the outdoor practice. the practice wasn't anything crazy, but after that, peoples families started to arrive for the scrimmage and family skate. you even got to (very carefully) shuffle out on the ice and get content of willy and his doggies.

you're back on the bench when simon comes up to you, still wearing his glasses and mask, but his smirk is prominent. "hey y/n."

you analyze his face and the way he dragged out your name. you pocket the phone and cross your arms gently, "what do you want?"

simon slaps a hand to his chest, scoffing, "what makes you think I want something?" you raise a brow in his direction and he breaks with a groan. "fine. can you put on my marks for me?"

you're confused at first, but then simon shows you the black stick clutched in the hand he slapped his chest pad with and it all makes sense. "why? you're wearing all that stuff on your face and nobody will be able to see the stripes."

he shrugs and leans in close, "maybe I just want you to touch me."

"shhh," your ears burn red, and thankfully it can be mistaken for just being cold, "just...sit down and shut up."

you gesture to the bench behind you and simon walks around you, his grin still present, "okay bossy."

you send him a look and take the chalk from his outstretched hand. "alright, glasses off."

"mitchy, do you hear how bossy she is?" simon muses. mitch marner is a few feet away from you both, tying his skates up. he snickers as you squeak.

"y/n's always been bossy." mitch teases.

"hey!"

"really?" simon looks up at you, his deep blue eyes now visible as his previously worn sunglasses sit his his lap. "I thought I was special."

your eyes widen in his direction. "you're...ridiculous. now stay still."

"yes ma'am"

with nimble fingers you tug his face covering down ever so slightly, allowing just enough of his cheeks out for you to draw. you're too concentrated on making clean marks that you don't notice simon's gentle gaze on your face.

"you have pretty eyes." he whispers once you finish the left side.

"oh." you pause, "i- thank you." you turn his face slightly with your hand, letting it linger on his jaw before you start drawing again.

mitch is still occupied, now just with john tavares and his kids instead of his skates. with that in mind, simon inches his hand over his thigh. once close enough, his index finger reaches out and gently strokes the outside of your leg. "welcome." he mumbles.

you tense from where you stand between his spread legs. his gentle touch has you feeling jittery in the best possible way. when he pulls away you try not to frown.

"all done," you mutter, pulling up the mask to its original spot. the black marks almost blend into the edge of the material and it has you biting back a giggle.

"thanks," he replied, standing to his full height, "how can I repay you?"

at first you just laugh off his flirty remark, but then you think of an opportunity for content do you look up at him all big and doe eyes. simon swallows harshly as he looks at you, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. "can you do me favour?"

"anything," he gulps immediately.

"I need you to do like a minute long live on the tiktok account," you stated. he looks a bit hesitant at first so you sigh, "please?" you notice a black smudge on his jersey from where he slapped it earlier, and you reach out and start rubbing the mark away. you don't know if it was your touch on him or you plea but he agrees.

Part Two:

"is it just us here today?" are the first words that come out of simon's mouth when he enters the blue room.

the sudden voice makes you jump, head spinning around like a swivel, but you relax when you see it's just him. simon is in his usual get up of a leaf branded sweatshirt, shorts and his compression socks.

"james is on his way." you answer, fiddling with the lighting off to the side of the room, trying to get the proper tone for the camera. "aren't you cold?"

he hums, "eh, i'll be okay."

you smile, "okay," you hum in a sing song tone. you finish with the lights and move to the gray couch in the center of the room. fluffing the rogers branded pillows, you can feel simon watching you. you straighten up and spin around to find him, in fact, admiring you.

"stop staring at me to distract me," you laugh through an exhale, moving back towards the camera.

"oh, I'm not staring at you to distract you." simon mumbles. just as he goes to take a step closer to you, james opens the door, balancing his open laptop on one arm and his coffee on the other.

simon moves away from you to seem less suspicious (even though james knows about every conversation you and him have shared ((unbeknownst to simon of course)).

you brush past to help james with his things, your knitted sweater brushing against simon's chest on the way.

james takes charge with the video, which you're glad about. you're not sure if you could control your crush enough to keep composed for a video your boss has to approve before james edits. although you don't ask any questions, simon always makes sure to look at you when answering. he even winks in your direction after he nails the milk game, which is just...too much.

the video wraps up after he does (not well) the 10 seconds challenge. james leaves the room after he claims he needs to run up to his office before the next player gets there, but you know he's just being sneaky and trying to give you both a second alone.

you grab your bag off the floor below one of the tables in the room. "si," you start, "i've, um, got something for you."

simon finishes folding up the blanket he'd pulled out from behind the couch. he smirks at your words and raises his brows. "yeah?"

you nod. it's too late to back down now, you think. you grab ahold of the maple leafs branded tin and wave it in his direction.

"what's this?" he questions. long fingers pull the lid off to reveal 6 chocolate chip cookies. the smell wafts through the air and he moans. "Did you make these?"

you flush at the sound of his groan. ever since you were little you've loved baking. it's your love language. your grandma has taught you one of her easiest cookie recipes and ever since you'd made them at any given opportunity. when james mentioned for simon's blue room video he was going to create some sort of milk related challenge - you didn't think twice about tossing a batch of cookies in the oven. "yeah, I thought because of the milk..." you stop as you watch him take a big bite. his face changes and you wince. "are they not good? I'm sorry."

simon shakes his head and swallows his mouthful, "no, no. they're good, fuck, they're great!"

"really?" you blush, "it's a simple recipe really, thought it be nice to go with the milk and-"

"I thought I was trying to win you over here, not the other way around." he takes another cookie and shoves the whole thing in his mouth.

you forget about his comment when the cookie starts falling out of his lips and you laugh, trying to catch the crumbs with your hands. "si!" you laugh gently when a chocolate chip falls to the carpet.

he flushes fondly at the use of the nickname, chewing slowly. "you gunna have one? or are you going to make me eat all alone?"

you roll your eyes and reach into the tin. you pause with the cookie by your lips, eyes meeting simon's once again. he nods and gestures to the cookie. so, you take a bite and fight the urge to groan.

as simon looks down to brush cookies off his chest, you take a moment to really admire him. you really think everything about him is perfect. his skin, his hair, his lips and even the damn cookie crumb on the corner of his mouth. suddenly, he catches you and you look away immediately.

you don't notice the way he smiles brightly at that.

the door is pushed open and you jump away from simon, your once close proximity now feet apart. william nylander is oblivious to the tension and smiles, "where'd you get the cookies from?" the swede tries to reach in the tin and grab one but simon smacks his hand.

"hey! get your own, these are my cookies."

willy laughs, "what! where'd you get them?"

"from someone special," simon sends you a quick wink while william is busy looking around the room.

Part Three (A):

filming the team playing keep up before warm-ups had always been your favourite content to get. it's the only part of a game day that wasn't super tense, and the players would crack jokes with you and each other all while having fun.

plus, it doesn't hurt when they loose the ball and simon gets lifted up or climbs to retrieve the ball and his shorts get all tight showing off his butt and thighs.

this away game was no different, and a small group of players gathered by one of the staircases and were kicking around the ball.

you'd been distracted by a member of the coaching staff sneaking behind you so you weren't looking and the ball had been kicked by simon. it had hit the wall infront of him, the force of his movement propelled the ball off the wall and right towards you.

thankfully, you didn't drop the team's phone when the soccer ball hit you in the face. you did wince though, your free hand coming up to clutch your nose. you can hear a few players concerning voices over the drumming in your ears.

you're too focused on not crying infront of the maple leaf team when simon jogs up the small flight of stairs to reach you. he grabs ahold of your face, tilting your head back.

"i'm so sorry," he rushes, "are you hurting bad?"

"i'll be fine," you insist. you take your hand away from your nose and thankfully it doesn't feel broken. "am I bleeding?" you question him. you flare your nostrils at him the best you can with the dull pain.

simon's ocean eyes dance over your entire face, checking for any injuries. "no," he mumbles, "not bleeding." he knaws on his lip and his thumb strokes against your cheek, "I didn't think the ball would come back and hit you, i swear. i'm so sorry."

"anything to get my attention, huh si?" you tease him. finally his eyes leave your beat red nose and find your eyes. a smile overtakes his lips and he breaths loudly.

"anything." he insists.

"is she okay?" tyler bertuzzi says behind you both.

"y/n?" somebody who sounds like mitch marner ask's in concern.

"i'm okay!" you call out. nobody can see you past their defenceman's broad back. which is good, because they'd probably ask questions about the way he was holding you and looking at you...and the way you looked back. "you should probably let go of me," you whisper.

simon notices how there's no tone of willingness in what you tell him, but he nods regardless. he releases your face and turns back to his teammates. "she's all good."

Part Three (B):

you're already set up on the ice with james when the players start making their way onto the rink. james has taken on getting the more aesthetically pleasing content for the blueprint series on the youtube channel, where as you get to do what you do best and make the players do stupid things for the fans (and your own) enjoyment.

"here comes lover boy," james whispers out of the side of his mouth. he's looking through the lense of the camera when he says it, so even though you know who he's referring to, you follow his eye sight.

simon looks so good. he looks like he's just got a fresh hair cut and recently trimmed his facial hair. he's laughing at something jake mccabe said as he steps into the ice. his tattoos are peeking out his jersey sleeve and he's not wearing his guard so you can see all the muscles in his neck.

he doesn't see you, him and his defensive partner too busy skating over to the benches set up for the team photo. you're upset momentarily, but then matthew knies skates over so you can mic him up and you get distracted.

the last of the team finally makes it onto the ice a few minutes later, and the staff starts to make their way down.

simon hears your laugh before he even sees you. he spins on his skates and searches through the small crowd of his teammates and staff until he can locate you. the first thing he notices is how you're wearing your hair slicked back into a ponytail. he likes that style the most out of anything he's seen you do because he can really see your face this way. you've got on a nice pair of jeans on and a cropped blazer that sits right against the waist band of your pants. gold jewelry shimmering under the lights and you're probably wearing your usual scent and -

"dude, what are you staring at? it's been five minutes" bobby mcmann breaks simon out of his trance.

he spins to his left and shrugs, "um, what?" simon hopes he doesn't look too flustered - no doubt flushing from the embarrassment of being caught.

just as bobby goes to speak again, you interrupt. "hey guys," you call, shuffling over in your sneakers until you're close enough, "I need to get some .5 pictures. si, can you help me out?"

"of course," he mutters. simon reaches to grab onto the phone, and his fingers brush against yours at the exchange. at the touch, he frowns slightly, "your hands are freezing," he states, "I'm not that cold, I can give you my gloves if you want."

"i won't be able to hold the phone, si."

"well, technically i'm the one holding the phone." he teases.

you laugh once, "ill pass on the sweaty stinky gloves."

simon scoffs and sends bobby a wide look, the ladder laughing at your banter. "they're not stinky or sweaty!"

"just...come here," you hiss and he makes his way over. you start instruct him how to take the photo of bobby in a way to get the most humorous angle. then you repeat the process with bobby when he reaches up to take simon's photo. then when bobby hands the phone back - to simon - the french man makes sure to take a photo of you with the lense and you immediately push his arm.

laughing, bobby skates away and leaves you and simon by yourselves. once he notices nobody within the general vicinity, simon takes no time leaning in close to you with that smirk you know all too well. "you look so beautiful today."

at first, you're too distracted by how good he smells, but once his words register you can't help but smile. with a playful roll of your eyes, you tug the wrist of his jersey, "c'mon flirty pants, we got pictures to take."

he starts to skate away slowly. it's rather pathetic the way you're shuffling along the ice after him, and the sight has simon chuckling breathy. he spins back to you and offers his arm. "c'mon slow poke, we have pictures to take." he mimics your earlier words teasingly.

"ha ha," you huff sarcastically, reaching out until you can wrap your small hands around his large bicep. once you're holding tight, simon starts guiding you both along."there's knies," you state, nodding towards the winger. matthew knies perks up when you call his name, slowly making his way over to you both.

while he's still out of earshot, you send a firm squeeze to simon's bicep to grab his attention. without looking, you mutter "don't say anything that will get us in trouble, matthew is mic'ed up."

with a quick nod, simon looks down at you, "i'd never."

the small time spent before the group photos is the most fun either you or simon have had in a long time. simon doesn't leave your side until it's time for the picture to be taken. he's upset when he's ushered away to the benches and he's even more upset that you're sitting nowhere near him for the photo.

after the pictures, it's a mess of bodies leaving the ice, and simon doesn't catch you before you leave the rink. he watches the back of your head as you leave the rink and move back towards the hallways. he immediately follows to try and get to you.

instead of taking the tunnel down to the locker room, simon turns the opposite direction. his skates hit the concrete flooring and in that moment he doesn't care that he will have to sharpen them extra before next game - too busy calling out for you.

at the sound of your name, you stop your conversation with james and turn around to watch simon hobble his way over to you, the anti-skate flooring, limiting his strides. your brows furrow and you stop moving. "hey...everything okay?"

simon is glad james didn't stop to wait with you and that nobody else is in earshot. he comes to a towering stop before you and exhales, "I want to take you on a date."

"what?" you whisper.

he smiles slightly, "y/n, i'm tired of only seeing you at our job and I want to, fuck, I don't know, go out with you."

you take a deep breath and look around to make sure body has come close. "si, i'm not sure..."

"just," he sighs, "one date. just one and if after that you're still unsure then...we can stop."

you knaw on your lip and briefly weigh your pros and cons. on one hand, all your earlier worries could still be the case. a slot in his schedule he's just looking to fill -or a task to conquer, possibly only fun to have. on the other hand...it might not be any of that.

"okay," you smile, "one date."

Part Four (A):

you get a text from simon the night of the team picture day: just hours after he asked you out and enchanted numbers.

what are you doing tomorrow night?

you resist the urge to scream into a pillow and kick your feet with excitement.

y/n

tomorrow, like you, i'll be at the arena doing my job

babe 😐

AFTER that

y/n

nothing

wait for me after the game and we're going out

so sure, maybe you dressed a tad nicer than you usually would for work. the march air was still chilly in toronto, but that stop you from slipping on your favourite black pencil skirt. you paired it with some nice booties and high necked black top with your trusty oversized denim jacket.

you regret the choice of not wearing tights as you wait by simon's car in the parking garage. the chill tickling up your legs and making you shutter. it isn't long before he comes out the elevator, hair slightly damp. you're surprised he showered that quickly and got dressed again. he's wearing the striped burgundy suit that you love on him and you feel yourself smile at him.

"hey," he greets happily once he approaches, "weren't waiting long, were you?"

you shake your head, "not long at all." he throws his things in his backseat and then stands infront of you. slowly, he looks you up and down once and licks his bottom lip. you gulp gently, "am I dressed okay? I didn't know where we were going so I thought-"

"you look amazing." simon interrupts. he reaches past you and opens the passenger door. "ready to go?"

you blink, "yeah."

once simon starts driving, the nerves you thought would come along with the date never started. in fact, you feel more comfortable than you ever have with a man. there's a taylor swift song playing quietly through the speakers, and if that wasn't a sign you were in the right spot - you weren't sure what else could be.

simon flicks his signal on, his blinker flashing on the dark pavement. he looks over at you just as you do him, and he smirks. "are you not going to ask where we are going?"

you let your head fall against the head rest and you shrug your shoulders softly. "maybe I like surprises."

he exhales a laugh, "alright." he makes a right turn and says, "we are almost there."

you look out your window just as you pass trinity bellwood park. you fight the urge to smile and look back over to simon. he's smiling while he looks out to the road ahead, no doubt remembering the same conversation shared between you as you did too.

moments later he pulls up to a small cafe. the sign in the window says there open until 11, and it's just past 10 as he parks. "I deal coffee & wine," you state, "are we getting coffee or wine?"

simon unbuckles his seat belt, "whatever you want."

as soon as simon pulls open the glass door of the cafe, you're hit with the bitter scent of coffee and grape wine. the warmth of the eatery enveloped your skin and you sigh happily. "smells so good."

simon laughs in agreement. "wanna look at the menu?" he whispers into your ear.

you flush and nod. he places a hand on the small of your back and pushes you closer to the counter. a young woman behind the long counter top greets you both and waits at the till for you.

"what do you recommend?" you ask quietly, slightly leaning back into simon's chest as you look up at him.

his thumb moves against your back. "you like sweet things, so probably the hot chocolate or chai tea. they're nice and sweet."

you don't question how he knows your taste, because you aren't suprised. instead you smile, "mhmm i could definitely go for a hot chocolate."

you move towards the cash and order the drink. simon adds his own drink: an americano coffee. you see one more butter croissant in the display case and your eyes light up. "ou, can we also have that croissant?"

the woman laughs gently at your enthusiasm and adds it to your order. simon pays wordlessly and moves you both over to the side as they make your fresh drinks. you groan as the barista adds a pile of whipped cream on your drink and simon smiles down at you.

a moment later you two are making your way to the back of the eatery. you notice there's only one another person sitting in, but that makes sense for the time.

"thanks for this," you smile once he takes a seat across from you, holding up your steaming white mug.

"of course," he smiles, immediately taking a sip of his coffee. "thank you for coming out with me, I know it's late."

"trust me," you hum, "I understand the late schedule and busy day. we work together, remember?"

you tease gently. simon is tonguing his cheek, leaning forward on his elbows to get closer. "okay cheeky."

you laugh behind your hand, eyes twinkling as you look over at him.

"I never would've thought when we first met you would've been this quippy."

you shrug, "i'm full of suprises."

simon laughs gently, "yes, i've realized that," you laugh quietly at his statement. "it's one of my favourite things about you."

"oh really?" you raise a brow at him, reaching into the branded paper bag to pull out the flakey pastry. you rip it in half and set the second half back on top of the bag. "what else is there?"

"mhmm," simon rest's his head in his palm, "obviously when you're bossy."

"obviously," you tease, taking a bite of your croissant.

"also when you blush - but that's another obvious one." your raise one brow at him with a small smile. his face falls ever so slightly, "my absolute favourite thing about you though is how dedicated you are. how even when i'm annoying and distracting you, you're always focusing on yourself and your job. you're also really sweet and beautiful and nice..."

your face changes into a soft delicate expression and simon clears his throat, "or maybe the cookies, i'm not sure yet."

you scrunch your nose and nudge his knee under the table. "you're ridiculous." he grabs your ankle before you can pull your leg away, his palm warm as it encloses on your skin, holding you to him.

softly, he strokes along the back of your calf with his thumb and you swallow your food gently.

"you love it through," simon teases.

you hum, "to be decided."

he laughs loudly and the one barista looks over to your table. you send her an apologetic smile but she just smirks like she understands.

"are you going to eat your part of the croissant?" you ask him, brows raised as you push the paper closer to him.

"that's for me?" he smiles.

"yeahhhh," you smile, "i'm a giver, si. I also wasn't going to make you pay for food you don't get to at least try."

his long fingers grab the pastry and bring it up to his mouth. "well, i'm a taker." he takes a big bite and moans at the buttery flavour. you shush him through a laugh.

"we're in public, don't moan!"

"why?" he teases after swallowing, "it turning you on?"

"stop!" you laugh. he joins in your laughter, finishing off the croissant with only one more bite. he dusts his hands off by sliding them together and you try not to frown when he lets go of your ankle. you bring your foot back to your own side of the table and simon frowns. instead of saying something, his dress shoes slide over to you and he locks his own ankles around your one leg.

"can I ask you something serious?" he questions.

you flip your straight hair over your shoulder and nod, "course."

"what's the real reason you didn't want me flirting with you. when we first talked about this back in january, you seemed so scared of my affection."

you clear your throat and look down into your mug.

"you don't have to answer if you really don't want to," simon hums, "I just want to make sure i wasn't making you uncomfortable."

"you never have," you say immediately, eyes meeting his again. he's looking at you so gently you sigh, "it's just...I didn't know how to act around you. until about 10 months ago, I was in a relationship and...obviously lost my touch at flirting and that feeling of being around somebody new as a single person."

"I understand," he nods, "how long were you together?"

you laugh bitterly, "almost four years," you look down at your half empty mug again, "but it wasn't healthy. he wasn't very nice and we were always arguing. he cheated on me with our friend."

"fuck," he curses, "i'm sorry to hear that."

you just shrug, "even with all that, I really thought we were soulmates or something, I don't know, it sounds silly."

"no it doesn't," simon hums, "you probably learned a lot from that relationship, and that's what's important."

"you're right." you take another sip of your now luke warm drink.

after a moment he says, "if it's any consolation, your flirting worked on me. I was smitten as soon as you opened your mouth."

you blush, "is that right?"

"oh yeah."

he catches sight of the clock behind you and hisses, "they're gunna close soon, we should probably head home."

you try not to sound disappointed as you agree. he leads you out the restaurant and into his car soon after, and the conversation doesn't stop the entire ride back to the scotiabank arena parking garage. simon scans his badge as you approach the gates, driving slowly until he reaches you car.

"here's me," you hum.

"here's you," he muses. the car keeps running as he gets out of his vehicle and rounds to your side of the car. he pulls open the door and you climb out with a smile.

"well," you say, "thank you again for tonight, si, seriously i had a really good time."

"yeah?" he mutters gently. "what was your favourite part?"

you lick your lips as you catch a whiff of his cologne, "I can't say..."

simon laughs gently, "what? c'mon."

shrugging up at him, you try and contain your smile. "not telling."

simon breaths that laugh once again, blue eyes not once starting from yours. "you're killing me here, jolie fille."

the native tongue has you feeling tingly. it sounds so beautiful coming from his lips and you gently sway towards him. "what's that mean?"

he bites his bottom lip ever so slightly, "pretty girl."

immediately, you feel hot from his compliment. you giggle gently, hands flying up to cover your face and press against your burning red cheeks.

"nuh uh," simon teases, "no hiding," he continues as he grabs onto your wrists delicately, prying your hands away to uncover your face. "I wanna see you."

your lips go tight, and you stare up at him. he's now standing chest to chest with you, staring down at you with a soft smile. he lets go of your wrists and slowly, he brings one of his hands back up to your face. gently, he runs a finger over your cheekbone, no doubt a trial of pink following his touch.

you watch his face in anticipation. just as he reaches your hairline, his entire hand moves and caresses the side of your face as he holds you in his palm. the sounds of traffic outside seem to no longer exist, you can't hear anything besides the thumping of your heart and the soft breathing from simon.

you watch as his eyes wander down from your eyes, to then your cheeks and then finally your lips. simon swallows harshly and licks onto his bottom lip. his other hand finds the other side of your face, and he is holding onto you gently.

your heart is racing as you stare up at him. you feel so small in his hold and nothing short of beautiful. his palms are warm against your face, and you wonder is his heart is racing just like yours is.

he finally meets your gaze again, and you notice how wide his pulls are blown. the small rim of blue that surrounds them are an even darker shade than normal, the colour resembling the deepest part of the ocean - and you wanted to dive right in.

simon wets his lips again, thumbs gently stroking the patch of skin right before your ears. standing in the middle of the parking garage is never a place you thought your body would feel tingly and pulse with nerves and excitement- but here you were.

"what?" you asks you gently, breaking the tension between you.

"I can't stop thinking about kissing you," simon mumbles in a low tone.

you could feel yourself go weak, and your tongue slips out between your lips to wet your mouth slowly. "and what are you going to do about it?"

there's a ghost of a smile on his lips right before simon leans down into your space. his nose nudges against yours twice and you take a deep breath. slowly, your hand finds his abdomen and slips under his suit jacket - keeping yourself grounded with the touch.

then finally, he leans in the last centimetre and connects your mouths together. his lips expertly move against your own and when his tongue prods for entrance, you let him in. you can taste the lingering americano coffee in his mouth and you whine against him.

simon's brows pull together at the sounds, one of his hands sliding into your hair and pulling you even tighter against his body.

your free hand finds his face, and you press your palm softly against his skin as you hold him to you.

when you separate, you're both breathless, chests heaving as you stand together and clam down. then, simon smiles brightly, thumb coming down to rub against your swollen lips. the action has you grinning.

"your cars still running," you whisper through your smile.

he laughs shakily and that tickles against your skin. "I know," simon mumbles. he reluctantly pulls his forehead away from where it rested against yours, straightening his back to his full height. your hand falls from his face and rests against his chest.

once he can finally look at your entire face again - all rose tinted lips, flushed cheeks, glimmering eyes and messy hair from where he was holding, he smirks. "i've got to be here early tomorrow...you work tomorrow?"

you nod just as you pull your hand away from his chest, "I do."

"good," simon whispers. he leans in once more and places another heavy kiss against your lips. when he pulls away and you've become even more flustered, he slowly releases your face."i'll see you tomorrow then."

"yeah," your teeth push into your wet swollen bottom lip in a way to contain the embarrassingly large grin you're about to get, "see you tomorrow."

Part Four (B):

the jet was quiet. although, that was expected with a late night flight after a time zone change. this short road trip was especially hard, considering it was three hours behind toronto time and the games had been rough ones.

most of the team was sleeping, or keeping to themselves quietly. just the occasional person engaging in conversation with their seat mate, or somebody getting up to use the bathroom.

beside you, james was sleeping. his head tilted down, and mouth slightly open. his active facial expressions were keeping you rather entertained- it was much more amusing that watching dylan, your boss, across from you edit on his computer.

on your leg, your personal phone vibrates, indicating a text message. the bright light is momentarily blinding, and you squint harshly until you can swipe your brigtness all the way down.

your eyes read the message quickly, and the words have you shifting in your seat. thankfully, dylan is still engrossed in his work so he doesn't see the way you've flushed red.

you peek down the isle of the jet as best you can without drawing too much attention. you catch simon's eyes almost instantly, clearly he was doing the same thing.

he smirks all hot and syrupy at you. he waves his phone in your direction once and then starts to type. a moment later, your phone buzzes again and you're met with his previous message as well as his new one.

i'm thinking about your lips right now

you look so pretty

you smile at your screen.

y/n

such a flirt. you're being obvious, you know?

you watch him shrug to himself, eyes still on his phone.

you're the one who was leaning out of your seat like a mad woman to try and get a glance at me

you roll your eyes playfully.

y/n

and I found you already looking at me

touché

you find each others eyes again. to keep his smile contained, he bites onto his bottom lip, unashamedly admiring you from across the plane.

you send him a gentle smirk, resting your head against your palm as you stare back. although you don't want to get called out from staring at simon, the rush of it all has it feeling extra dangerous. you mind flashes back to your first kiss with simon only a few days ago, and your body flushes again. although you've shared many kisses since then - it didn't stop you or him from wanting to do it over and over again.

as if he can read your mind, your phone vibrates again.

can we sneak off to the bathroom and make out?

you bite your lip.

y/n

definitely not. but when we get home...

Part Four (C):

simon's hands are warm against your exposed legs. his finger tips dip underneath the edge of your pyjama shorts as you straddle his thighs.

his lips pull away from your kiss, wet as they trial down your neck. he sucks onto your sweet spot and nibbles the skin there. the sensation has you whimpering, grinding down onto his jean covered crotch.

after your date a few days back, you went home and screamed happily into your pillow. never in your 23 years of life have you been kissed and held so perfectly. simon knew exactly how to kiss you in a way that was everything you craved and more. the following morning when you saw him, it took everything in your willpower to not pull him into a storage closet and do it all again.

so after a few excruciating hours of working, simon had the evening off as a healthy scratch. which would usually bum him out, but as you say on top of him half naked, he couldn't care less.

underneath your shorts, he grabs your ass, pulling you over his hardening dick in a way that has you both breathless.

"fuck," you whimper, "I need you so bad."

he smirks slightly. his eyes dart down to his crotch, small streak of arousal left from your grinding. "yeah, I can tell."

you're not even embarrassed about it, and if anything, it turns you on more.

"I need you too," simon mumbles, lips touching yours as he speaks before pulling you in for another hot kiss. the hand that was once squeezing your bottom slips back down until he rounds it to the front of your body.

delicately, his hand slips past your shorts to find your lacey underwear. expertly, his fingers manoeuvre the material out of the way, leaving you exposed under your shorts.

you moan in unison and you pull away from the kiss. simon slides two fingers through your wetness, the sticky arousal coating his fingers. "fuck, you're so wet."

the words have you moaning quietly. then, using the same two fingers now coated with your slick, he prods them into your dripping hole. your quiet moans turns into one of pornographic level, walls clenching down on his long digits.

"si, I need you in me so bad."

"fuck, yeah," he agrees in a mumble. his fingers don't stop their skillful pace, and if he keeps going you'll surely cum. "wanna take you to the bed though, bébé."

"mhmm okay." unfortunately, simon's fingers slip out of your cunt. "let's go before I combust."

he chuckles gently at your exaggeration but doesn't hesitate in picking you up. your legs wrap around his strong torso and you can feel his dick hit your ass cheek.

you bite your lip at the feeling of him poking into you. thankfully you're in a studio apartment and you two skip the awkward stumble down a hallway to a bedrooom. within 10 steps, simon is dropping you down on your mattress.

you reach forward and unbuckle his belt looped through his jeans. you're still flat on your back as you work, and simon leans over to kiss your lips messily. the hand he isn't using to hold himself up, comes down to the waistband of your sleep shorts and effortlessly pulls them down.

he pulls away from the kiss in favour of sitting back on his knees. smirking, he begins to pull down your shorts and panties. once you're naked from the waist down, simon grabs your hips, pulling you until your wet core is flush against his clothed crotch. you both grunt at the friction.

"get naked si, before I start touching myself."

he smirks, "bossy."

you don't have time to bite back because he pulls off his shirt, revealing his toned stomach and arms, skin littered with tattoos that have you drooling.

"fuck," you moan. as you take off your shirt, simon discards his jeans and boxers, leaving him completely naked before you. your nipples tighten at the sight of his hard and heavy dick - his tip an angry red with a smear of precum on the slit. he pumps it a few times.

simon feels like he could cum already at the sight of your hazy eyes and flush face. "you ready?" he questions gently, slowly crawling back over your body.

"shit, yes," you moan. "please, si."

with your go ahead, he begins by nudging the tip of his dick against your puffy throbbing clit. the sensation is heavenly and your head pushes further into your bedding, a mewl leaving your mouth.

then he guides his member to your dripping entrance. the feeling of your warm hole and sticky juices on his tip have him shuddering and he doesn't waste anymore time - fully sliding into you.

"fuck," you moan loudly at the full feeling.

simon hisses at the sensation of your walls hugging him so sweetly. he curses and grabs your leg with one of his hands, manoeuvring it up and over his shoulder. the new angle allows him to push his dick even deeper into your pusssy.

you mewl even louder at the feeling. your positive reaction has simon smirking and he finally starts thrusting into you. slowly at first, pulling the entire way out before pushing back in. but then he starts pushing into you harder, not fully leaving before he pounds back into you.

"you feel so good," he mutters through his grunts, his large hand squeezing your hip. "fuck, can you feel that? your walls pulling me back in everytime baby? it's like you're made for me."

you moan loudly at his words, the sound of his dick sliding in and out of you is so gushy and hot that it's overwhelming - the coil in your belly already tightening. using the hand that wasn't griping his bicep, you bring him down to meet for a kiss. it's all teeth and panting but it's just what you needed. "i'm gunna cum," you mumble on his mouth.

"yeah," he encourages, "c'mon." simon bring his thumb down to your clit and with two full circles on the bundle of nerves, you're cumming with a shout, walls clamping down on his thick cock as he continues his pumping.

it's just a few thrust later, simon's hips and thrusting come to a halt buried deep inside you. he moans into your neck - hot ropes of cum coating your insides as he finishes.

"fuck," he moans, looking down to where your bodies connect. it's a mess between you, all glistening skin and wet hair flat to skin. he thinks he's never seen anything sexier.

you smirk as he lifts his head and meets your eyes. finding your lips, he brings you in for a chaste kiss.

"i'm gunna have to shower," you whisper against his lips. "wanna join me?"

simon smirks breathlessly, "lead the way."

after another round in the shower, simon can't help but admire you. you both have wet hair, and your skin is all dewey from the water and your eyelashes look extra long. you're so beautiful.

there was a time where simon wondered if you would ever properly relax in his presence. like, truly be relaxed.

sure, he loved watching you flush from his nicknames and flirty remarks. he didn't mind the way you stuttered sometimes when he said things, or the way you nervously advert his gaze. simon loved it all. he knows it means you're making progress and you like him - which is all he wants.

currently, simon can only think about that as you both brush your teeth in the mirror - making eye contact every couple seconds and grinning like you've been together for your whole lives.

you're both only half dressed, you without pants and simon without his shirt. you've opted for stealing his shirt though, which simon thinks is even sexier than you naked.

in this moment, after the sex and the kissing - this moment, simon knows that you're truly comfortable with him. looking at you as you lean over and spit out your toothpaste, simon can't believe there was a time you weren't.

Part Five:

you're pretty sure you're skipping. which, yeah, in theory is embarrassing - but you can't help it. thoughts of the night before run freely through your head, phantom touches and kisses currently grazing your skin.

simon spent the night at your place, and he even drove you both to the leafs facility together. like usual, you had some editing to do up in your office, but this time before packing up, you had printed out all the proper paperwork for a workplace relationship. you were planning on bringing it up to simon when you both got back to his car, so you thought you'd just head down and wait for him at the locker room.

quietly, you near the open doors of the locker room - careful not to draw too much attention to your presence. thankfully the halls are empty, and it's not too loud. you slow in your steps right outside and you can hear a few voices inside the room. smiling, you hear simon's distinctive accent and laughter.

stopping fully, you hear a different voice. "-finally happened then?" they ask. you can't recognize the voice and don't catch the full scentence.

suddenly, simon laughs just once, "I don't kiss and tell."

"look at his face!" somebody different cheers, "you sly bastard. you did it...I knew you had an extra pep in your game today."

slowly, your expression changed to one of confusion to one of displeasure. you blink hard as tears begin to sting your eyes.

the original voice you heard cheers, "we've only been waiting since you brought her up in january-"

the frantic beating of your heart increases- they had to be talking about you. you and simon and what happened - not only last night but everything since january. your stomach plummets to the ground. all your original doubts about getting involved with simon start rushing back and now they don't sound so stupid.

you don't stick around any longer and turn on your heels. you don't have it in you yet to feel angry, all you can focus on is getting the hell out of the arena before you breakdown.

shakily, you pull out your personal phone and order an uber - exiting the arena.

simon pulls his sweatshirt over his head, momentarily hiding his flushed cheeks from his teammates.

jake mccabe sends him a knowing grin at the sight of his blush. jake cheers at the sight, in the midst of removing his elbow pads. "we've only been waiting since you brought her up in january. you're obsessed with her."

simon laughs gently, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly."obsessed is crazy." it's not crazy and he knows that. because simon has been obsessed with you since he's first seen you. at first, he thought he was being subtle with his longing glances and flirting - but then joseph woll picked up on it, then bobby and then jake and now it's not a secret.

bobby snickers and tosses his sweaty jersey into the team branded laundry bin sitting in the middle of the room, "fitting for somebody who's crazy in loveeeee." he sings.

"she's a nice girl benny," jake says to his defensive partner, "im glad things are progressing between the two of you. you just need to sit her down and really tell her how you feel. none of that 'just flirting' casual stuff from the beginning- because we both know that was never what you wanted - you don't want to give her mixed signals."

in the few months simon has been with the leafs, he's always admired jake on and off the ice. he was an amazing teammate, an outstanding defence man and always knew the right thing to say. this time was no exception and simon hummed in agreement, "you're right," he states, "she's probably waiting for me at my car right now...I should go and drive us back to one of our places and just...confess how much I like her...because i really fucking like her."

"you sappy piece of shit," bobby mutters with a grin, "go before she gets sick of waiting for you and walks home."

simon laughs gently, "if I bring up that 15 page document I want us to fill out she probably will walk home." he tosses his hat over his damp hair. "i'll see you guys later"

when simon doesn't see you waiting against or in his car, he frowns. then he panics, spinning around to look at his surroundings for any sight of you.

confused and worried, he quickly retrieves his phone out of his small duffle bag, immediately pulling up your contact.

simon

hey, I thought you were going to wait for me? did you get a ride home? everything okay?

it's five long minutes of watching the screen in search of your reply. he knaws on his lip anxiously as he looks and waits. then his phone dings, your nickname appearing.

y/n/n 🤍

didn't feel well.

simon

want me to come over with anything?

y/n/n 🤍

I need space for a little bit, simon.

his heart comes to what feels like a halting stop. something is definitely up. your last text message was staring at him tauntingly, and the urge to go comfort you was overwhelming him. at first, he types another message but reluctantly deletes it.

after all, if you're really not feeling well, you're probably trying to rest and the last thing he wants is to annoy you or disturb your sleep before your shift at the game.

but then james is the one recording all the pre-game content - you nowhere to be found.

the following morning, you don't reach out. when he catches sight of you during early morning drills, you don't look like you've been off sick. you also don't look at him. simon watches as you ignore him completely.

jake sends him a sympathetic look once he sees your face in comparison to simon's but simon can't even decipher what's happening. his heart breaks and he feels confused and defeated.

Epilogue:

7 days. an entire week since you left the arena and simon in a frenzy of tears and heartbreak. an entire week of ignoring the french man you've fallen for. paying no mind to him, or filming him for content, avoiding even his closest friends. you've ignored all of it.

after overhearing simon and a few teammates discussing you and your relationship in the locker room, you called james. in the back of an uber as you sobbed, james listened as you told him everything. how it sounded like you were nothing more than a lay: another girl who he set his sights on.

"look at his face"

"it definitely happened"

"talking about it since january"

his teammates chimes danced in echoed around your head, taunting you and your stupidity. you had finally opened yourself up to a man again since your previous relationship - finally let your guard down enough and finally feel completely free with simon and for what.

you weren't more to him than just a fucking notch on his belt. you're glad you didn't stick around to hear the rest of the conversation because you didn't even want to think about what else could've been said.

that night you had james cover your shift. you couldn't even fathom being in the same arena as simon after the wound was still so fresh. the next morning you avoided him completely - you didn't even crack when you felt his ocean eyes burning into your figure - you couldn't look: wouldn't look.

that first morning, you cried in your car after clocking out for the day. james had offered to handle the parts of your job that required up close content with the team, while you opted to stay up in the offices to edit.

the off chances you were around the team, it was never without james. you avoided one on one interaction with most of the players, and avoided even glancing towards simon.

the first two days, he tried to make his way towards you. but both times you left before he could reach you. he didn't deserve your time and you definitely didn't want to hear whatever pity excuse he would come up with.

on the 7th day of ignoring simon, your heart was still broken. you didn't work, so you sat on your apartment couch. your tv is on mute, some home renovation show is the only thing illuminating your dark living space.

the leafs game ended an hour before, but you didn't watch. you only knew because james asked if you wanted company - which you declined in favour of finishing up some editing for tomorrows uploads.

you're mid audio adjustment when there's two quiet knocks echoing through your apartment. you pause and wait for a moment. but then two more knocks follow and you sigh.

tossing your throw blanket off, you're already prepared to lend mrs. tomlinson, your elderly neighbour, some milk for her nightly tea. it was often her husband forget to pick up diary when he went grocery shopping, and she ended up on your doorstep everytime.

"milk again, mrs. tom-" you freeze with the door half open.

simon looks up from the floor at the sound of your voice. he is still in his suit, hair washed and damp as the scent of apple shampoo floods your senses.

the sight of him then has you panicking and you try to shut the door. you're not quick enough and he reaches out, palm flat against the door to stop it from completely closing. "y/n," he mumbles softly, "what is wrong?"

the sound of his voice is too much. all traces of anger, sadness, guilt, disappointment and love come flooding back in. "please leave," you whimper.

he looks heartbroken at your request, shoulders dropping in defeat as he stands in front of you. "did I do something wrong?" simon asks, "I mean- why are you avoiding me? I don't know what happened but it's killing me - you're killing me here."

"i'm killing you?" your voice is strained as you cry.

he exhales a hard breath and runs a hand through his hair frantically. the action leaves his strands messy. "i've been racking my brain for a week trying to figure out what I could've done wrong, and i've come up with nothing." he laughs once in something similar to disbelief, "I thought maybe at first you really were sick and trying to keep distance for my sake. but I quickly realized you were actively ignoring me."

you sigh, eyes shutting momentarily as you beg your emotions to hold on for a little big longer.

finally, you meet simon's eyes properly for the first time in 7 damn days. his are swimming with emotions and you try not to scoff - what could he possibly be emotional about - he should be guilty. he should be on his knees, begging for your forgiveness-

"please, y/n, just tell me what happened and let me fix it."

irritation bubbles into your chest and you subconsciously move closer to him. "I heard you," you state, "in the locker room last week." you're suprised that your voice doesn't waiver or change as you finally admit to him what you know.

instead of the guilty look you expect to take over his sharp features, simon looks at you with confusion. "okay...what did I say?"

you scoff. a tear falls from your eyes and you angrily wipe it away, "you seriously don't remember? 'I don't kiss and tell'," you mimick his words from a week ago. his face changes then, a look of something like embarrassment taking over. angrily, you continue "was I seriously nothing more to you than somebody new to get with?"

his brows pull together, "what-"

"I mean, fuck, simon," you interrupt him, "I opened up to you! I told you about my ex and my doubts about getting into a relationship. I risked my fucking job for you by breaking the rules ! I was ready for that absurdly long conversation with HR for this to work out! I really like you and you didn't even care about me for more than one night?"

simon jumps in quickly, stepping closer to you and past the threshold of your apartment and the hallway. "there has never been a time where you were just a casual thing. especially after you opened up to me, the last thing I would do is switch up on you and abandon what we have."

you shake your head, arms crossing against your chest defensively. "I heard you and your teammates talking about me!"

"then you didn't hear everything!" he interrupts, "in the locker room I was talking about how much I like you and how much progress we've made together! jake and bobby were bugging me about how crazy obsessed I am with you."

"oh? and, what? i'm just supposed to believe you?"

"yes," he replies, "yes! because why would I go through months and months of trying to get you agree to go on one date, if all I wanted was a one time hook up?"

his words have you pausing. sure, if you thought long and hard you probably could come up with a reason why he tried so hard to just fuck you...but then again, maybe you can't come up with a reason. maybe he was telling you the truth. you swallow gently, "I don't know."

"well I do know," he laughs gently, eyes downcast and runs a hand over his head. once he looks up again, your face is wearing a much softer expression than before and simon feels himself becoming slightly breathless. "it's because i'm falling in love with you, y/n."

at his words you body covers itself in goosebumps. your arms fall to your sides, limp and heavy. "you're what?" you mumble. all traces of negative emotions you once felt have disappeared. you can't tell if you want to cry or kiss him.

oblivious to your new emotions, simon continues. "god, it's never just been about flirting with you or just trying to make you blush - those were just the extras that I got the pleasure of having. i've had a crush on since the moment I first saw you back during the pre-season - when you were recording the walk out. when I found out you were the regular social admin for the team, I've never been so excited to be around somebody or spend time with someone. and spending time with you, y/n has been my absolute favourite thing.

I really like you, y/n. hell, like I said, i'm falling in love. and if you're not ready for this right now, then i can wait–"

his words are muffled as you push up onto your tippy toes and press your lips against his. it takes a moment for it to register that you're kissing him, but then he sighs gently against your mouth.

you hold his face in your small hands, tenderly caressing your lips together. simon wraps one of his forearms around you waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his body as his other hand moves to caress the side of your head.

slowly, you pull away breathlessly, "you saw me? at that pre-season game?"

simon nods just as delicately as your breathing, "you were impossible not to notice, y/n." he gives you another kiss, this one quicker than the last. "i'm sorry that I made you believe anything different than my true feelings, I never wanted to hurt you."

you shake your head gently, "i'm sorry for ignoring you. I should've just asked you about what I heard, instead of assuming the worst possible scenario. I feel so silly," you admit, "it's just after everything that happened with my last relationship, god, I had so many doubts about you and your intentions so that one little thing pushed me over the edge."

"don't feel silly," he hums, leaning down for another kiss. simon pulls away slowly and you slightly chase his lips."if I told you about my actual feelings before today, none of this would've happened."

"don't dwell on that," you mumble, "and after this, i'll never assume again. there's no more doubts and i'm leaving my baggage at the door."

"I'll take your baggage always, jolie fille."

the french term of endearment is not forgotten and you smile, leaning back up to re connect your mouths for another euphoric kiss. in that moment you decide you'll never get tired of the way simon kisses you.

you both part to catch your breath.

"so..." you hum after a beat, chest still pounding as you start to regain normal breathing patterns.

"so." simon replies breathless, a grin tugging on his lips.

"you're falling in love with me?" you tease.

"I thought I was pretty obvious about that part," he mumbles sheepishly, the hand that was once on your face coming to rub the back of his neck.

you smile gently up at him, thumbs rubbing against the warm skin of his jawline. "you ready to fill out those 15 pages of paperwork ive been talking about?"

simon's hand lowers slightly from your lower back and down to your ass, affectionately rubbing over the flesh. that flirtatious smirk you love so much appears his face, "i'm always ready."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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ecrivainalene · 5 months ago

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Leviathan Panel at Otakon 2024

I was OVERJOYED to be at the Leviathan panel during Otakon 2024! I'll do my best to recap it below, but if you want a more coherent play by play, this Twitter user did an excellent job.

I've got a handful of photos, recap of Sharp Gender Discussion, plus misc. things I remember.

Not everyone was up for the entire time, but I snapped this photo near the end when everyone was on stage! From left to right: Waki Kiyotaka (Studio Orange), Yoshihiro Watanabe (Studio Orange), Scott Westerfeld, Christophe Ferreira (Quibic Pictures), Justin Leach (Quibic Pictures), Katrina Minett (Quibic Pictures), and Diana Garnet (ending theme vocalist).

New concept art! Looks like Dr. Barlow, Klopp, Alek, and Sharp, right before the Germans attack the Leviathan.

More under the cut!

Alternative shot of that art bc I couldn't get my lighting right:

Clanker and Darwinist technology designs. Watanave explained that Studio Orange's early days were spent doing contract work on Gundam anime, so I can't wait to see how that translates to the Clanker machines.

Some more concept art:

By the way, the entire series is being adapted at once - so we'll get the complete story at once! That in mind, the second image here makes me think of that maneuver near the beginning of Goliath to pick up the cargo.

Sharp!!! Look at them!!!

I don't have much to say about these but I'm fairly sure I hadn't seen them before. I am wondering if they downsized Alek's crew for the sake of the story, or perhaps we just haven't seem Bauer and Hoffman yet.

We got some new character art! The panel was very cryptic about who the character designer is. Apparently they're pretty well known, but they can't share it yet!

Volger I am so sorry your photo was unfocused. Forgive me.

The panel jokingly described him as "Alek's dad," which feels accurate. And maybe I misunderstood, but it sounds like he plays an even more important role in the anime than he does in the books. I've always considered Volger to be a pretty important character, so I wonder what else he'll do in this new series.

Klopp looks exactly like how I pictured him in my mind!! They said if Volger is Alek's dad, then Klopp is like his mom. Which is very fair but also made me laugh a lot.

Dr. Barlow!! She looks amazing. There was a lot of talk about the dynamic between her and Volger and how they're often playing mental chess games with each other. I'm really glad they're leaning into that dynamic.

And one more concept art:

This looks like the visit to Istanbul, which I'm desperately hoping means we'll see my favorite chaotic bisexual, Lilit.

That's all of the photos I have! They also showed us a preview of the show plus a live performance of the ending song with Diana Garnet. No video recording was allowed and I don't break rules, but believe me when I tell you it was stunning. The world feels so full of life and adventure and I can't wait to see the final show.

Tbh I was too busy holding back tears of joy but one thing I remember distinctly is there's a shot of Sharp getting ready for the day, and we see a sheet of paper with a bunch of names written and crossed out before finally (I think) "Dylan" is circled.

Which actually brings me to the Q&A part. TLDR, between the use of "Sharp" for Deryn's name, Scott referring to Sharp as "she/he/they" during the panel, and the scene I mentioned earlier, I feel really hopeful about how they're approaching Deryn's gender and identity in this adaptation.

I asked a question about this at the Q&A and voice recorded it, so I'll try to transcribe it here as best I can because the audio is not great lol. I stumbled through my question so I trimmed it down here but I'll transcribe the response as clearly as I can!

Me: I just finished re-reading [the series] for the first time since I was probably in high school, and one of the things that interests me about this adaptation is the approach to Sharp's character... I guess I'm just interested, like, was there a lot of thought put behind, or what kind of thought was put behind how to approach their character in the anime, I guess as a chance to re-approach the story however many years after it was originally written.

Scott Westerfeld: Yeah, there's a lot to that. The "girl dressing as a boy" as a trope was something completely different in 2007 when I started writing this than it is now. And so we really approached Deryn's identity as what was at stake rather than just... rather than just her being in disguise, it's about their recreating themselves and becoming a different person and transitioning and, and so... but it's always been interesting to me that the words that I wrote back in 2009, 10, 11, y'know, as an old guy who grew up in Texas in the 70s - who was David Bowie fan! - but otherwise didn't have a lot of access into issues of gender, I'm amazed at how many people have been [able to?] adopt Deryn/Dylan as one of their own. I just got an email a week ago from a trans boy whose chosen name is Dylan. So it is amazing to me how whatever imperfections or whatever problematics there are in the text, people still find their way into what they need from a character. And as a writer, I can say that I always respected that character, I always respected their choices, I always respected who they were. I never tried to stick them into a dress and have everyone go "Ooh now you're pretty 'because 'cause you're in dress!" We didn't do that, and I think that what may be important for people and I think that's why it's still what's gonna work here, but it's been fun to be able to update it and everybody on the team's been really great about understanding that.

TLDR I don't want to get anyone's hopes up too high, but I'm really appreciative of the care that's being taken with Sharp's story and identity in this adaptation. It seems like Scott and the others on the team are taking that into account, and I'm excited to see how it plays out.

Other random things I remember:

THERE WAS AN ALEK COSPLAYER. I took a photo with them but I won't post it without their consent. Just trust that they looked fantastic.

Scott said one of the first things he was told was that Alek can't actually kill Nikola Tesla because he's too well loved by people in Japan, which I think is the funniest possible reason for a change to be made in an adaptation.

Diana Garnet (they/any) mentioned how much they love Sharp (don't we all) and also how they used to work at a Barnes and Noble and remembers selling lots of Westerfeld books!

Scott said his approach in writing Leviathan was taking everything he'd always wanted to write about and basically throwing it together, because he was just coming off of the success of Uglies and figured he could get away with it.

If I remember anything else I'll add on to this post! Overall, it was a wonderful panel and I'm incredibly excited for this project.

#studio orange #qubic pictures #leviathan anime #leviathan scott westerfeld #leviathan trilogy #leviathan netflix #scott westerfeld #deryn sharp #leviathan series #leviathan alek #prince alek #otakon #otakon 2024

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ghostchems · 7 months ago

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infernal - terzo x f!reader - part five

art by the incredibly talented @piaart!

author’s note: finally have this finished but man is it hard to be satisfied. i keep wanting to work on it and work on it but i also really wanted to get this out! also don't even know if this is good teehee. lots of awkward here. 4.9k words. part one/two/three/four. ao3 linky.

The date is going surprisingly well. You chose an Italian spot (ha!) and have had your fill of lobster ravioli and Cabernet Sauvignon all while you learned more about Dylan since he graduated high school. Went to a state school in the middle of bumblefuck, drank and drank some more, got overly into the college culture (emphasis on cult) and tipped a few cows in his time. It aligns perfectly with the slivers of information Catherine gave you through the years, though he’s mentioned nothing of the steady college girlfriend he supposedly had. Interesting. You laugh at his dumb jokes. You’re smiley. But it does feel like an act that’s partially fueled by alcohol and having someone’s attention on you.

He’s still talking but you’re admiring his small, button nose, how his brunette locks shape his face and his bright smile. You can’t help but think his face is a little too smooth, though. Has this boy been through anything meaningful? Has he suffered at all in his shiny little life? Your mind drifts back to Terzo’s rough hands and how they felt on you earlier that day. He forced you to your knees and it was clear that it wasn’t the first time he’s done so. You can still taste him on your tongue.

“You haven’t told me about your job! Aren’t you like an assistant?” Dylan snaps you out of it and you offer a shy smile.

“Yeah! I had to get out of that call center, man. It was like draining my life force. Not that this isn’t difficult but it’s nice to not be yelled at by some rando on the phone for hours a day.” You toy with your glass of wine.

“So, like what do you assist in? Is it just you?”

Huh. You’ve never really explained exactly what you do to anyone. Not even Catherine or Erica — you only really focused on Him. That won’t go over too well in this situation, will it?

“It’s just me and it’s mainly house maintenance right now. My boss’ place was a disaster when I started.” Perhaps the most watered down description of your job.

“So you’re like… you’ve cleaned it up?” There’s judgment in his voice that’s immediately sobering. He stares at you blankly.

“I guess I meant more like projects. The last big one was fixing up his yard. I had to manage the budget and scheduling of the landscapers and stuff.” Your voice is flat.

“Oh, okay gotcha.” Dylan nods and he is back to smiling. You’re seething on the inside. Was your answer acceptable to him? “What’s your boss like? Is he a guy?”

What the.

“Yeah, he’s a guy. He’s a little weird. Definitely eccentric. I’ve tried not to pry too much into his personal life, you know. Boundaries and all that, but when I first started he had me sort out some of his things and it looked like he used to be the lead singer in a band.” Another oddly phrased question. At least now you’ve been prompted to bring up the man you haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

“Oh, shit! That sounds awesome! What band?”

Oh, do you hesitate. A long silence stretches between you two.

“I’m… I’m not sure I should say. I don’t want to blow up his spot or anything.” You’re sheepish suddenly and Dylan notices.

“Aw, come on. Who am I gonna tell?” A good question. You drum your fingers on the table, thinking about how you’ve never really told anyone who your boss actually is.

“Catherine will tell me if she finds out.” A warning, last one until the big reveal. Dylan nods enthusiastically, some of his hairs falling into his forehead. For a split second you think that maybe if you were younger with much less life experience perhaps he would be perfect for you. But you know too much and you know that he wouldn’t be able to give you what you want. “It was Ghost.”

“Oh.” He makes a face and leans back in his chair.

“Oh? Sorry, is that not impressive enough?”

“No, no. It’s still cool. They’re just… I don’t know.”

Do you continue this conversation? Do you care what he thinks? You don’t…but your curiosity gets the better of you.

“What is it, Dylan? Are they lame? I’ve tried to… you know, not dig too deep into it because I feel like that would affect my professionalism.” That and you didn’t want to completely pry into the man’s life.

“Oh, I get that. Uhhh, I mean they’re not REALLY metal. They say they’re metal but they’re not so it’s just a little weird.” He shrugs and crosses his arms. You knit your brows together because you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.

“Right. Okay.”

“Yeah, I mean, they are basically like pop. Not metal, not at all.” He sounds so impassioned and you nod along but it feels inappropriate. Why is he so pressed? It turns you off even more and you do everything in your power to get this date wrapped up. You are done drinking and you’re too full for dessert. Responses shorten and eventually you’re out front on the sidewalk waiting for an Uber. Dylan has insisted on waiting with you and hovers just a bit too closely by your side. He seems a little oblivious to how this date has gone, bless his heart.

“Well, this is me.” Awkward, so awkward. You move to get into the car but Dylan stops you by your arm and leans in for a kiss. It’s truly over before it starts, a quick peck before he pulls away with a smirk. You are dying on the inside.

“We’ll hang out again soon, yeah?”

“Sure. Yes.” You lie and hurry into the Uber, wanting nothing more than this wretched day to finally end.

Terzo blinks awake. The cool air of the night pricks his cheeks. Leaves crunch beneath his soggy socks. He coughs, blood spilling from his mouth and splattering on his thick chest hair. A robe hangs loosely from his shoulders. Terzo’s eyes drift down to his hand to see he’s wearing his black gloves with sharp, golden nails. He squints and there’s something black stuck to one of the points. Gaze drifts to where he is. His driveway. A breeze rolls by that sends shivers down his spine as his eyes focus on your car.

He’s slashed one of your tires.

Terzo cackles wildly upon this realization. This is new even for him and his weird, otherworldly tendencies. Could be straight up mental illness. He takes a few lumbering steps forward before crouching to eye the tire, surveying the damage. Completely shredded with the rim touching the ground. There’s a familiar buzzing in his skull, a buzz that he used to get while performing. How far he had fallen. Still, he’s delighted with himself. A fitting punishment for the way you crushed him earlier. What hubris you had for leaving your car on his property. Rage shoots through him for a quick moment, the thought of you spending the night with your date crossing his mind. Would this boy drop you off in the morning? He could plan for that.

In his fits of unsatisfying sleep, ideas for being cruel sprang to his mind. He’s settled on ignoring you for most of tomorrow, to have you toil away waiting for any kind of attention but to no avail. Terzo would be watching you the whole day, of course, hidden away in dark corners and peering down from atop the grand staircase. He has always been the best at sneaking around undetected out of all of his brothers, having avoided so many moments where his father could have reamed him out due to this expertise. Primo and Secondo weren’t so lucky.

Sharp pang in his chest from thinking about them.

No, no. He must focus on you. He pushes the thoughts back to the void. You’ll be trapped here at the end of your workday because of this, wouldn’t you? That’s when he’ll reveal himself. He’ll torture you. Tease the information of your date out of you.

How well could it have gone when you are so devoted to him?

The house is cold without him, a shiver running down your spine every time you found yourself in a dark corridor. You try to keep your thoughts to a minimum and are somewhat thankful that the contractor was able to come today. He’s a quiet man but seems to enjoy your cheerfulness which breathes life into an otherwise miserable day. Between directions and answering questions, you would wander the first floor and hover by the stairs, listening for any signs of life only to hear silence. The last time you saw him flits through your mind — the pressure of the hand on your neck that forced you to the ground seconds after he angrily spat in your face seconds after he kissed you. What the hell. You should be furious at him for treating you that way, for leaping over the carefully placed boundaries the two of you have been dancing around for weeks.

But instead you sigh dreamily. You burn for him. Cheeks grow hot just from thinking about his rough hands on you. You hope he’s okay. And you’re sure he is, he’s a big boy.

The fact that you’re more worried about his feelings than you are about potentially losing your job over this is not lost on you. You’ve lived in constant fear of getting fired over the smallest mistakes since the start of this job but you are oddly calm about this situation. This feels like a natural progression. There was going to be a time where you had to confront this strange connection and you would rather it happen sooner rather than later with the way things have been going. As painful as it would be (emotionally AND financially) to say goodbye to him maybe it would be best for it be sooner rather than later.

The day goes by at a painfully slow pace with no sign of him. Anxiety builds and builds as you watch your clock tick down on your phone. You’ve taken to painstakingly wiping down every single mirror on the first floor (there is an absurd amount of them) because it takes up time and gives you something to focus one. After a while interacting with the contractor becomes painful for you, too heightened to be able to function in a normal social setting. You send him home early with a smile, being Friday and all, and you continue carrying out your mirror mission. This takes you to around 4:30 at which point you say “fuck it” and decide it’s time for bed! What is the point of even being here anymore when you could be under your comforter with a pint of chocolate chip ice cream as you ponder your existence?

It was an easy decision.

You meander out the front door, making sure not to slam it shut but have it at least be somewhat loud to announce your exit. Yes, you are stooping that low. A quick wave of relief washes over you because you made it. The day is over and while the issue looms you are at least out of his domain. Car keys jingle in your pocket. You make quick work of the walk from the porch to your car until the state of your tire stops you in your tracks.

“Oh my god!” You’re in disbelief. It’s like an animal chewed through the rubber. Your rim is on the ground. Tears start to well up in your eyes. This is it. This is the thing that’s pushed you over the edge today. A frustrated screech bubbles up your chest.

“Come back inside.”

You freeze as soon as you hear his voice. Spinning on heel, you turn to face him. He’s standing with his arms crossed, leaning against a column on the porch. His dress shirt is the darkest black you’ve ever seen, partially unbuttoned to show off thick chest hair and cut slacks show off his strong thighs. Did he get dressed up for you? His paint is crisp and hair is slicked back neatly. Fuck, he looks good*.*

“I can get an Uber?” A question as if you’re asking him permission, taking a few tentative steps towards him.

“Hmmm. No. I’ll call you a driver.” A rough response but you can’t help but feel warmth blossom in the pit of your stomach. “Get back inside.” Terzo growls, his gaze stern and pointed. He leaves you alone in his front yard. You feel silly by how hard your heart hammers in your chest but this is what you’ve been wanting all day. A moment passes by and you work up your courage to go inside and take your punishment. Thoughts of your shredded tire fade.

You walk inside the foyer and follow the sound of clinking glasses, finding him at the bar in the den. Terzo’s gaze falls to you then he directs you to the couch with his eyes. You silently follow the order and sit on one of the couch cushions furthest away from him. There’s a lump in your throat, fidgeting with your hands as you wait for him to join you. Eventually he turns around to face you with two drinks in his hand, one a red martini with a lime green umbrella and the other a pint full of something gross looking - not beer but still brown? His face is blank and you try to match his energy but it’s hard to keep your blush at bay. You reach out to take the martini from him but he pulls it back out of your grasp and instead presses the pint into your hand. The smell fills your nostrils: whiskey. Yuck. He runs a hand through his hair as he takes a seat on the other side of the couch, allowing for plenty of space between you two.

“You’ve called the driver already, right?”

“Yes.” He rolls his eyes but you’re still not sure you believe him.

Terzo’s arm stretches across the back of the couch, gloves just brushing your shoulder. Your grip on your whiskey tightens. This isn’t his usual charming aloofness, there’s something cold and cruel bubbling beneath the surface. Still, you want nothing more than to speak to him, even if he’s obviously pissed at you. He lifts his other hand up to his face, admiring the sharp golden nails adorned to his leather gloves. Eyes slowly drag from them to settle on you, gaze so piercing and yet uninterested in you.

“So, you had him pick you up here, si?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Drink.” He points at your glass and narrows his eyes. Not playing around. You do as he says and take a sip. “Keep drinking.” Lip twitches in a faint show of satisfaction as you bring the glass up back to your lips and take a deep gulp. There’s delight in his eyes and you’re more than happy to play the game just to see more of it. Your eyes twitch and you cough once you set the glass, the whiskey burns your throat.

“It was convenient for him.” Words are rough from the sting of alcohol.

“Ohh, was it now?” Terzo growls and digs his nails into the couch, tearing into the fabric. The sound gives you goosebumps. You open your mouth but he’s too quick. “Finish your drink.” He snaps, daggers for eyes that sends a chill down your spine. You swallow thickly and toy with your glass with the tips of your fingers before bringing it back up to your lips. Head tips back, the room swirls and you swallow down the rest of the liquid.

“Gross. Ugh.” Grimacing as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “It’s less of a drive for him and I’m a pushover, okay?” You sigh, only partially joking. His eyes noticeably soften. You sink deeper into the cushion. “I said yes to this date because it was with my best friend’s older brother who I’ve known forever and I’ve always had a crush on him.” Terzo’s fingers shift from the couch to your shoulder, his nails just short of tearing through your shirt, his anger coming back up to a simmer just below the surface, but you continue on unafraid.

“I had to see what would happen. You have to understand… you build the thing up in your head as something perfect and special but then when you actually actually experience it…” You deflate and you eyes wander away from him, wanting to look anywhere else. “It’s never as good as you imagined it. Plus, he was a garbage kisser.” You immediately regret the words as soon as you say them. They hang heavy in the air and the air catches in your lungs. You feel him shift on the couch but you can’t bring yourself to look until his his hand curls around by back of your neck and forces you to look at him. Eyes sharp like knives.

“You let him kiss you.” A statement, not a question. Terzo makes you watch as he slinks closer to you. There’s like a current coming off of him right now that has you paralyzed even though you so badly want to protest. You whimper, words getting caught in your throat as he reaches for you. He grabs you by your waist with the tips of his claws poking against your skin, that delicious danger teasing you as always. “How did it compare?” Terzo trills, a charming smile with vicious edge. Hoo boy. Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“It didn’t compare at all.” You whisper as you try to sink as far into the couch as possible. Not because you don’t want to be close to him but you’re confused. Everything about this feels like a trap, like one wrong answer could set him alight but you’re not exactly fighting it. Instincts are telling you to run but you stay exactly where you are. Terzo’s hand drift up your sides, suggestively squeezing you in all the right places until he’s holding you by your shoulders. He’s smiling wider than before and there’s glee in his eyes — he’s pleased with you. A torrent of heat shoots through your core. He doesn’t say anything, merely taking in your reactions to his touches. His finger tips glide across your top, nearly clipping right through it until his hands settle around your throat. He squeezes just enough to make you gasp for air, then leans in to you, pressing his forehead against yours. You can feel his hot breath on your lips.

Tease.

“I could hurt you.” Terzo muses against your lips, lashes fluttering and eyes wide. There’s a slight tug at the corner of his mouth. Silence passes comfortably between the both of you as you take in each other’s breaths and warmth.

“I know. I’m… afraid of that. But it’s why I’m here.” You feel drunk, the words just tumbling out of you but you don’t care anymore. He is so close to kissing you that you can nearly taste him but instead he pulls away with a wry smile.

“Your glass is empty.” Terzo snickers and then jumps up in a way that can only be described as cat-like, snatching the glass from your hands. You’re left hot and bothered as he turns his back to you to saunter over to the bar. Alone with your thoughts while you watch him pour you another generous whiskey. Oh no. Oh no. You can still taste it on your tongue and it is not for you. But when he turns around with the warmth and charm you’ve been wanting all doubts are gone. You’re going to be messy tonight and that’s just that. When he turns back to face you he’s at least given you half of what he did the first time, walking slowly over to where you’re sitting on the couch.

He looms over you as your eyes drift up to meet his gaze and he audibly growls. You suck in a sharp breath, your nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. Terzo lifts a hand up and brushes his thumb along your jaw before tilting your chin up. He brings the glass to your lips and tips it back. You part your lips, the whiskey burning as it spills down your throat. He continues to pour until you can’t keep up with it and it leaks out of your mouth and down your cheeks. You gasp and he flings the glass down onto the side table as he crushes his mouth against yours, unable to keep away from you any longer.

And you certainly don’t care that he all but purrs into your mouth, soft lips moving against yours. He cups your face with his gloved hands, leather thumbs caressing your cheekbones as he slips onto the couch beside you without breaking the kiss. Fingers curl around his wrist and you press in close to him, losing yourself in how he tastes. His velvety tongue probes your mouth as the kiss grows in intensity. Deep pants try to keep your feet on the ground but you’re off in space, exhaustion and comfort mixing in a way that has you floating. Terzo pulls away from the kiss and you can hardly open your eyes. He gently guides your head to his chest, stroking his fingers through your hair.

“You never called me a driver did you?”

“Oh no. Never considered it.” Terzo squeezes you in his arms.

Oh, he’s so warm. A rumbling groan falls from your lips as his wraps his arms around you, just holding you there. Your limbs relax and you sink deeper into his chest as he starts to rubs up and down your back. In that moment you know you’re a goner. A deep, sleepy sigh falls from your lips and in a matter of minutes you are out cold.

Terzo almost feels guilty for being such an ass. Almost. He feels for you, he can relate to realizing that something isn’t all it was cracked out to be. At least for you it was a childhood crush and not being raised for one person. But still, he was a tad mean wasn’t he? It was necessary and the tension… the tension had been so delicious. Watching you squirm under his intense stare. And you just did what he said, unquestioningly, even when had you drink and drink and drink. Adrenaline is pumping through him and he struggles to contain himself— he must not go any further, despite how tempted he is. He could get away with it. You’re so soft, so pliable and so wanting. Terzo can feel the heat radiating off of you, no doubt from the alcohol and your closeness. He could slip his hand between your thighs and give you exactly what you want.

But it wouldn’t be fair to you. Terzo wants you coherent and focused when he takes you. Plus you’re adorably snuggled against him right now, your soft breaths against his chest. He’s longed for this and you did not disappoint. Wait a minute. Are you sleeping? He is about to fall apart, his arms wrapping so much tighter around you. The urge to keep you safe, to keep you here and never let you leave overcomes him*.* He squeezes your hand that is clutched to his chest and then gingerly picks it up and places it back in your lap.

“Sleepy?”

You lift your heavy head to look at him and good god do you want to be asleep right now. A tender smiles breaks out across his face as he swipes some of your hair from your eyes. A stark contrast from how close he had just been to strangling you.

“Take the guest room tonight, puffetta. I will bring you some clothes.” Terzo pulls himself to his feet. “Meet you up there.” He’s so soft, so different than how torturous he was of you earlier. You’re sure he’s heard what he’s wanted to hear from you but he’s unpredictable. Something you liked about him. There’s an unknown darkness that lies beneath his charm and good looks and it calls out to you. You’ve never felt this way about anyone. How could you ever get away now?

You blink and realize that you’re alone. You’ve been alone. Oh shit. Scrambling off of the couch, you trip over your own feet with the effects of the whiskey hitting you hard.

Ah, the guest room. A cramped space with antique furniture that could use some time and attention. The overall theme of the room is… dust. You’ve brought up having the dresser refinished or even repainted and replacing the peeling wallpaper but it’s low on the list of priorities. You push the door shut and give a soft sigh of relief. Shoes come off. A lamp on the bedside table barely illuminates the room and a folded pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt are waiting for you on the bed. Eyes scan over the remainder of the comforter and pillows, wondering if anyone had ever slept here. You can’t help the feeling that you’re being watched but maybe the fact that you’re about to wear your boss’ clothes isn’t meshing well with the practically decaying room.

“Whatever.” You huff to yourself and undress with the grace of a toddler, kicking your pants off and throwing your removed clothes into a pile on the ground. Sitting down on the bed, you pull up the sweatpants and they are loose as they settle around your waist. The shirt slips over your head and swallows up your upper body. Did he purposely give you his largest clothing to make you feel small? It is so cozy, though. You wrap your arms around your body and flop back onto the bed, sinking into the softness of the blankets. Comfortable heat spreads across your skin from buzz of the alcohol. Limbs go limp and your eyelids grow heavy, a deep sigh falling from your lips. Fading fast.

The piercing ring of the rotary phone cracks through the air and you jolt upright and wide awake. What the? You don’t remember seeing it when you came in and it’s not like it blends in — it’s bright red with intricate black etchings along the base and the handle of the receiver. Not a speck of dust on it. The phone rings again, somehow louder and more harmful to your ears than before. You blink and suddenly you’re standing directly in front of the dresser with one hand curled around the receiver. Heart is pounding in your chest and ears. Something is calling out to you. Answer it. Answer it. Answerit. answeritansweritansweritanswerit.

You pick up the phone to silence. Then chittering. The receiver is hot on your cheek. Something pricks your ear but you can’t pull away. There’s a squelch. A screech. More screaming. It only gets louder and louder, needles in your ears, pain shooting through your brain. You can’t breathe. You twirl the phone cord around your fingers and shuffle your bare feet against the cold floor, the only thing you’re able to get your body to do other than press the phone so hard against your head. The closer you listen to the screams the more familiar they get, growing in intensity, pain and volume. Burning, the receiver is burning now and yet you can’t move, you can’t get any relief. The phone cord is nearly completely tangled around your wrist and you’re sweating, gasping for breath, and crying without even realizing it. The screams finally subside, replaced by a cold, dead silence.

You hang up the phone.

Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion washes over you and you collapse onto the bed. The world spins as you sink into the soft mattress, the dial tone still echoing in your ears.

#terzo #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus x reader #ghost fanfic #ghost band fanfic #ghost fanfiction

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toomuchracket · 3 months ago

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bump in the night (dad!matty x reader fluff)

baby phoebe thinks there's a monster under her bed. matty to the rescue! once again, promptober. enjoy <3

“dad… dad, wake up.”

the owner of the worried voice shoves his shoulder, and matty jerks awake. disoriented, he fumbles for the switch on the bedside lamp; when he finds it, he also finds dylan standing beside him, eyes wide and teeth chewing at her bottom lip. “dyl?” he clears his throat, voice scratchy. “what is it, darling?”

“it's phoebe. she won't stop crying,” her jaw is trembling, a clear sign that she's anxious. matty reaches for her hand, and she seems to calm down slightly. “me and elena both tried to calm her down, but she just keeps sobbing for you and mum. don't know what else to do, dad.”

terror pierces him, the kind of fear that only sets in when you or your daughters are concerned - the worst kind, it goes without saying. extracting his right arm from your still-sleeping hold as inconspicuously as possible, matty pulls himself out of bed, reassuring his eldest before he goes to help his youngest. “you did the right thing, dyl,” he pulls her into a hug, kissing her sleep-messy curls. “is pheebs saying she's not feeling well, or…?”

“no, she just keeps crying and saying she wants you and mum. she calmed down a little bit when lena and i went in, but not a lot.”

“okay,” he rubs his eyes, taking dylan's hand. “lead the way.”

it's only a few steps across the landing and down the hall to phoebe's room, but the worry makes it seem far longer. a wave of relief washes over matty when he and dylan make it through the door, but it's short-lived - his three-year-old is shaking in her big sister’s arms, the flush on her tear-stained cheeks evident in the glow from the nightlight, and elena looks on the verge of tears too. “oh, my darlings,” he coos softly, kneeling at the side of phoebe's bed. “what's wrong?”

phoebe practically throws herself into his arms, tiny body wrapping itself around his. hot tears dampen his t-shirt, and matty can feel his own eyes welling up. he's sick to his stomach when any of his girls are upset, but his youngest is so especially sweet and smiley that her sadness seems to hurt him just that little bit more. “phoebe, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “please tell daddy why you're crying, yeah? deep breaths, munchkin, copy me,” he inhales deeply, and exhales slowly. “can you do that?”

she copies him shakily, while elena crawls to sit on the edge of the bed in front of him; even at seven, her legs still don't reach the ground, dangling endearingly instead. “i think she's scared, dad.”

“alright, darling, thank you,” he smiles at his middle baby, who returns it sleepily. “you two can go back to bed, if you like. thank you for helping your sister, my sweet girls.”

they shake their heads in vehement denial, dylan moving to join her sister on the edge of the bed. “not leaving until phoebe's okay.”

“you sure? you'll be tired tomorrow.”

elena shrugs, matty in miniature. “doesn't matter. our sister’s more important.”

matty's eyes actually do fill with tears at that - how on earth did you and him manage to create such perfect, kind humans? it's baffling. “alright, darlings,” he nods, before turning his attention to phoebe. “did you have a bad dream, sweetheart?”

tiny curls brush his neck as she shakes her head. “uh-uh.”

“okay. was there a big noise outside? foxes, or a car, or people shouting? that can be really scary, especially if it wakes you up.”

another head shake. “in here.”

now we're getting somewhere. “there was a scary noise in your bedroom, munchkin?”

“yeah,” phoebe's little voice shakes, turning to a sob when she speaks again. “like… like a monster!”

“where exactly, darling?”

“the- the wall,” she hiccups; matty softly rubs her back to calm her down. “and under my bed.”

interesting. monsters under the bed aren't exactly uncommon, but in the wall? maybe phoebe's imagination is stronger than you all thought.

or maybe… “what kind of thing did it sound like, sweetheart? can you remember?”

she thinks for a second, wiping her eyes on the shoulder of his t-shirt. “like when my tummy is hungry.”

“rumbling? why would it be… oh,” the answer clicks in matty's brain, the logistics of the house's layout revealing it to him: phoebe's bedroom is directly above the utility room, so - “it isn't a monster, my darling, it's just the central heating.”

dylan lets out a soft “ahhh” of realisation, but elena looks puzzled - when phoebe moves to look at matty, so does she. “the heating?”

“yes, munchkin. it's what makes the house cosy, and makes sure we have hot water for our showers and baths-”

“and washing our hands?”

he smiles. “exactly, my smart girl. but it all starts from that cupboard near the washing machine, and then it travels through the pipes up through your room, and into the rest of the rooms. that's what the noise is, darling. not a monster.”

phoebe sniffles. “really?”

“would you like me to check under the bed anyway?”

“mhmm.”

“alright,” he kisses her head, settling phoebe between her sisters on the bed and ducking down to scan under the bed; his back practically screams at him not to, but he can't disappoint his baby girl. “all clear down here, girls. not even a speck of dust,” popping back up, he takes phoebe's tiny hands in his own. “do you feel a bit better now, munchkin?”

“yeah,” she nods. “but the noise is scary.”

matty can't blame her for that - the bed is right against the wall with the pipework, and she's only three. it's a lot. “tell you what, darling - you come in with mummy and me, just for tonight, and tomorrow we can rearrange your room so the noise isn't as loud, yeah?”

“‘kay.”

phoebe rubs her eyes. matty smiles, scooping her into his arms again - smiling even wider at the way she melts into him - and stands, nodding at his older two. “come on, my girls. back to bed.”

the four of them trudge out onto the landing, exchanging goodnights and head kisses. matty gives dylan and elena an extra hair ruffle each. “thank you for looking after your sister, girls. lie-in tomorrow, alright?”

“mhmm. night!”

“night, dad! night, pheebs!”

two bedroom doors close, and matty carries phoebe towards the last slightly open one; behind it, you're half-asleep, but quickly awakened by the sound of matty's footsteps and, ironically, his hushed “don't wake mummy, sweetheart, alright?” to the little one in his arms. he sighs when you turn to face him, sitting up slowly and flicking the light on. “baby? what's going on?” rubbing your eyes, you notice phoebe. “oh, hi, my darling. you alright?”

“she is now,” matty sets phoebe on the bed; she crawls to you for a cuddle immediately. “but she's staying with us tonight, and i'm spending my saturday rearranging her bedroom.”

“oh, okay,” you raise a brow. “do i want to know?”

“i'll explain tomorrow,” matty flops onto the bed, flicking the light out, suddenly tired. “right now, i think we all just need to get some sleep.”

“alright,” you lean over to kiss him, dropping one onto a now-sleeping phoebe's head for good measure. “goodnight, my loves.”

matty strokes your face, and then your tiniest girl's. “goodnight, darlings.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #dad!matty #promptober75 #dylan #elena #phoebe #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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erika111111 · 2 months ago

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The Quarry and queer-baiting

It's a pretty known issue within The Quarry fanbase that this game basically set us up with two gay couples for them to just... not happen. In fact, it's almost as if the game rubs it in the players' faces that they don't, won't, and can't happen, besides the first half of the game setting them up rather clearly. It feels like the writers completely abandoned the idea halfway through, or for some reason just wanted to draw players in with the concept of queer relationships/characters just to rip it away in the end.

Disclaimer: This topic has been in my rough drafts for like, nearly two years at this point. I updated and added some stuff, but forgive me if I missed any crucial details.

So in the beginning, a lot of people wind up shipping both Ryan x Dylan (Rylan) and Emma x Abigail (Blygbank). Let's start with Blygbank since it's the shorter of the two.

So we do establish that Emma had a boyfriend, but the keyword is "had." To be fair, Jacob and Kaitlyn talk about it for the entire first section and that's the whole reason this game even happens, since Jacob wants another shot with Emma. So this straight couple is obviously very prominent. But, throughout the entire game, from multiple characters (Emma herself, Kaitlyn, Dylan, Ryan), it's repeatedly stated that Emma wants to move on from Jacob. Then we're introduced to Abigail, who's first scene is of her drawing a sketch of Emma. It's established that Emma and Abi are good friends. Maybe Emma and Abi will start a relationship? But, then we're introduced to Abi's crush on Nick. So I guess that idea just got blown out of the water...

To be fair, Emma's lack of interest in Jacob and Abi sketching Emma all happens very quickly within the first chapter. Perhaps it's the players' fault for jumping to that conclusion so quickly... but still.

What's more disappointing is that Abi and Nick are basically useless after chapter 6. There is actually yet another opportunity to develop some Blygbank relationship, but once again, it goes nowhere. Nick is bit and infected and starts acting absolutely horrible toward Abi, which very noticeably turns Abi off from him. Then Nick disappears for the rest of the game. But given Abi survives, she'll have another opportunity to have some alone time with Emma. Yet nothing of actual importance is discussed here. Not Emma kissing Nick. Not how Nick treated Abi. Not where Abi and Emma's relationship stands. Not where Emma and Jacob's relationship stands. We do get a moment where Emma reveals some of her true colors and she says that she needs Abi and she's been great to her, but once again, this goes nowhere. I guess we could see this as romantic, but Abi kind of seems just tired of and annoyed with Emma at this point and doesn't comment much about any of it. Basically there's just no conclusion. We have literally no idea where their relationship stands, romantically or otherwise. It's a huge missed opportunity.

While you can't get both of these scenes in the same playthrough, they do also push the Blygbank agenda. If you can get the "Nobody's Fool" route where Emma and Jacob reunite and Jacob tells her the truth, Emma will be completely and entirely done with Jacob. No more joking, no more mixed signals, she's just done. Which is kind of where the entire game was leading to from the beginning anyway, but this route gives it to us loud and clear. This accompanied with Abi and Nick going south again leaves us with a Blygbank option, but obviously, we get none of it. I know there's not much time left in the game by the time any of these scenes happen; maybe this is something else that could've been developed if we got any post-credits scenes, police interviews, I don't know. Again, maybe I'm reaching way too far with this one, but I think there's pretty good reason to ship Blygbank and assume maybe that's the direction they planned on going in. But I digress...

Onto part two, we have Rylan. And... Ryka? I have no idea what the ship name for Ryan x Kaitlyn is and I don't know if shippers for this couple even exist, so I'll just call them Ryka. And they're not a queer couple, but it's necessary to talk about the two at the same time.

I'll be honest, during my first several playthoughs/watchthroughs of The Quarry, I had no idea Kaitlyn was interested in Ryan. They do not do a good job of establishing that at all, and you can very easily miss every single opportunity for it to be brought up until chapter freaking nine. So honestly, Kaitlyn is pretty much a non-factor here. Dylan's crush on Ryan is very vocal and obvious, and the two are paired up very often throughout the game. Even if Kaitlyn's crush on Ryan was more well-known, Dylan is still the more obvious one between the two because, again, Dylan and Ryan are always paired up together.

Ryan is rather... uninterested in everything and everyone. But between everyone, he seems closest to Dylan. Of course, this can depend on how you play as both characters. You can make them argue A LOT, and Ryan won't always say the "I'm a bit closer to Dylan, I guess" line, but regardless, there's some scenes with them being close that will always happen. The most prominent scene between them is when they're walking to the radio hut and Dylan actually opens up to Ryan about who he is and what he likes to do. Ryan will have unwavering, non-negotiable interest in Dylan as a person here. Sure, they CAN kiss at the firepit, but Ryan can also choose to kiss Kaitlyn. They can joke around about the Bizarre Yet Bonafide podcast name, or they can't. They can agree over the gun, or they can argue instead. Ryan can cheer Dylan on or rush him. They can grab the phones and go or Dylan can annoy Ryan so much, he'll yell at him. Point being, there's a lot of options you can take with their relationship. You can make them close or you can make them bicker. Regardless, Dylan will remain interested. And regardless, they will have this intimate moment together on the way to the radio hut. Point being again, it's veryyyy obvious this a queer relationship in the making. Justice Smith is even a queer actor, and Miles Robbins is a very vocal supporter of the LGBTQ+ community.

Then Laura comes and fucks the whole thing up. And I love Laura, mind you, but for some reason the writers decided to take this whole ship and spin it on its head when Laura arrives.

Before we get into the Laura segment, let me point a few more things out. I personally thought that Ryan was maybe oblivious to Dylan and Kaitlyn's feelings, didn't really know which one he liked more, or most prominently, maybe he was asexual. When Emma tells him to kiss either Dylan or Kaitlyn, he asks if he can kiss both. I thought that was kind of an odd thing to say unless he either liked both or just didn't care. Also, he can ask Laura, "You're doing all of this for a boy?" He really seems like he doesn't understand this kind of love or investment in another person romantically. Upon discovering that line, I pretty much accepted Ryan as asexual.

But then he's not asexual. And he's not oblivious to Dylan and Kaitlyn's feelings. And he's not interested in either of them. According to Justice Smith himself, when Laura asks Ryan who he likes more and he answers with "Maybe neither," it means that Ryan has a crush on Laura. And I truly don't get this, for several reasons. For starters, yes, Laura is doing all of this for a boy--her boyfriend, Max. She literally has a boyfriend already. And Ryan already had a thing going with Dylan. So why, seven whole chapters through this entire game, giving us LauraMax and Rylan, do they suddenly pair together Lyan? It's just a creative decision I will never understand. Maybe if Laura and Max had broken up, but still. She's not reintroduced until chapter 7 so we've already had six chapters of Rylan still. Maybe they could have made it more obvious from the beginning that Ryan wasn't interested in Dylan or Kaitlyn, but they just didn't do that. They particularly paired Ryan and Dylan up all the time and made them close. So, I call queer-baiting.

Of course, Lyan never goes anywhere. The only ending you can get that involves any kind of romance is actually Laura and Max reuniting. Laura and Ryan's romance happens in basically two seconds and there's barely any romance to even speak of. Laura does flirt with him a lot, but I believe that's due to the werewolf curse, as she stops that kind of behavior after her curse is lifted. They do seem to be close friends by then, she just doesn't flirt anymore or make weird comments. And really neither does Ryan. Sure, you don't always get the "maybe neither" line and you can choose less flirty options sometimes, but then they have a whole ass The Lovers card. So it's extremely obvious what the developers were going for. I just don't understand why suddenly go for this couple eight chapters through after already establishing a gay couple with Ryan himself and Dylan.

The only other thing we get on this matter is Dylan and Kaitlyn discussing Ryan's relationship with Laura on their way to the scrapyard. The most positive outcome for Rylan here is when Dylan says he and Ryan got close and Kaitlyn tells him "There's always next year." So it does give a bit of hope to this ship, leaving it open-ended despite the sudden occurrence of Lyan. Of course, you might not always get these lines, and Dylan and Kaitlyn can both agree "screw Ryan" and move on. So... I don't fucking know. It's like they purposefully set players up to support this clearly laid out queer ship of Rylan to then make it all insanely confusing and open-ended and piss people off. I think they really fumbled the bag with this one, and it's why I have a hard time shipping Ryan with literally anyone. It's all just a confusing mess.

I'd definitely say that the whole Supermassive Games chain of video games definitely got less queer-baity and more queer accepting over time. Just a few months later, The Devil in Me is released and they give us a Lesbian ship with Jamie and Erin. Also, with the Until Dawn remake, they cranked up the Jemily and Climbing Class. Not by much, mind you, but regardless, they acknowledged the popularity of these queer couples in the fanbase and added some crumbs for the players. It makes me wonder if they'll ever delve on Blygbank or Rylan in the future. I'm doubting The Quarry will ever get a remaster/remake with added content like Until Dawn, but who knows, I guess. As I said, both ships are pretty much left open-ended. But for now, I think The Quarry has a serious problem with queer-baiting, or maybe they just had no idea how to handle writing queer characters. I really don't know.

Lastly, none of this was supposed to be negative or attacking any single one of the ships mentioned in this post. I don't know how anything I said could be interpreted that way, but you never know. This post was just supposed to be informative. I hear a lot of people criticizing the queer-baiting within this game, as they should, and I decided to make an informative post covering all of the points and how I believe they screwed up the opportunities to put in these queer couples and somewhat alienate their queer audience.

Link to part two here.

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blood-and-pizza · 4 months ago

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Notable Details from the original "Into The Pit" story (PART 1)

Upon the mill's closure, Oswald's dad works part-time at the deli counter in a store called the Snack Space (a 7-11 equivalent, basically), which requires a red vest as their uniform. Oswald is embarrassed by the fact his dad is wearing the vest as he drops him off at school. Just a neat bit of world-building.

Oswald has a best friend named Ben who moved into the next town over.

Oswald's bullies, including Dylan Cooper, call him "Oswald the Ocelot" after a cartoon character they saw as pre-schoolers, a big pink ocelot named Oswald. Again, more world-building.

Oswald is described as having freckles and a cowlick in the original story.

Oswald has no modern electronics in his home, save for one laptop he shares with his family. His phone is an outdated model he's embarrassed by.

Oswald's teacher, Mrs. Meecham, puts on a movie for her class on the last day of school, which is described as "about a farm with talking animals", "too babyish for a roomful of fifth graders". I'm guessing they might have been watching the animated adaptation of Charlotte's Web... or it could be wishful thinking on my part, since I love that movie.

Oswald has been drawing mechanical animals ("bears, bunnies, and birds") for reasons even he doesn't know, other than lack of anything better to do when he's bored.

Oswald's mom works at the hospital from 12PM to 12AM... yikes.

Oswald's dad can't cook to save his life. If it can't be boiled in water or heated in a microwave, he has to buy his meals... how relatable.

Blue-box macaroni and cheese exists in FNAF, meaning Kraft and its products likely exist, too. Just thought that was funny for some reason.

Oswald's dad squirts ketchup into his mac and cheese. I just think knowing he's the kind of dad who does that is really funny... kinda reminds me of my stepdad's love of ketchup, to be honest.

Other pizzerias that once existed in Oswald's town were Gino's Pizza and Marco's Pizza, both of which closed not long after the mill closed. Both Gino's and Marco's are described as good restaurants, while the food at Jeff's Pizza is described as "decent".

Oswald is into B-grade Japanese horror films, including kaiju movies like Zendrelix vs. Mechazendrelix. Zendrelix is apparently FNAF's answer to Godzilla, making Mechazendrelix an equivalent to Mechagodzilla. They're described like this: "... Zendrelix just looked like a giant dragon thing, but Mechazendrelix reminded him [Oswald] of the mechanical animals he drew when he stripped them of their fur." Zendrelix is also described as being portrayed by "a guy in a rubber suit", solidifying the connection between him and Godzilla.

Oswald and his dad both really love bacon. I just thought that was cute.

When Oswald visits the library, a place he finds "actually kinda fun", he shows interest in a science fiction book from a series, as well as a manga he liked. Based, IMHO.

The library Oswald visits frequently allows homeless people to use their computers and other resources. WE NEED LIBRARIES AND THIS IS EXACTLY ONE REASON WHY!

Oswald's mom, being a nurse, is a bit of a germaphobe and won't let Oswald play in places she considers dirty. A ball pit would be considered one such place.

The pizza Jeff serves comes in huge slices too big for the paper plates they're served on, and very greasy. As someone who was born in NYC and used to eat greasy New York pizza... I think I would have liked eating at Jeff's. Maybe.

Oswald reads a library book while visiting Jeff's Pizza, about "a world where kids with secret powers went to a special school to learn how to fight evil". I wonder how many books that describes...

Oswald plays an online fantasy game at the library that's free to play, but Oswald gets to a point where he can't progress without money. I wonder what game it could have been...

Oswald's dad and mom used to date in high school, often frequenting a roller rink, and are great skaters as a result. Oswald himself can't skate and needs his parents to hold him up.

Oswald's dad only ever buys vanilla ice cream.

There's a video rental service Oswald's family uses called Red Box, but I don't know if it's meant to be the same as the actual existing Redbox. Maybe it is?

Oswald's mom is very good at playing Clue... oh, and Clue exists in the FNAF universe.

Oswald's dad prefers practical effects over CGI in movies. Oswald is the exact opposite.

Oswald's dad is a fan of country music. Oswald... is not.

#fnaf #fnaf into the pit #fnaf oswald #fnaf oswald's dad #fnaf oswald's mom #fnaf jeff #fnaf itp #fnaf fazbear frights #fazbear frights #into the pit #world building

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pencileraser1 · 10 months ago

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things i noticed/thoughts about most recent rewatches of dps (plus laserdisk deleted scenes):

whenever theres a group scene i've started watching the characters that the story isn't focusing on to see what they do and i've been having a fun time with that. pitts and cameron specifically seem to almost always be doing something interesting in the background.

hopkins!!!! my favorite minor character who somehow got character development despite having like 2 lines!!!! the last guy to stand on the desk but he did it!!!

sometimes i do like to think about what the rest of the students thought about the dead poets society, esp in alternate timeline neil lives dps keeps meeting universe. like yeah theres this guy in their class whose one of the most credited students in the school and we think he maybe started a cult. idk though. but that group runs out into the woods every few days to do god knows what and one of them keeps talking about "dead poets honor" whatever that means and holy shit welton star student neil perry started a cult.

i watched the movie with headphones. and maybe it's because ive seen this movie Far too many times and mabe i'm listening too hard but it was Really obvious sometimes when audio was added in post production. llke in the sweaty toothed madman scene when you can hear laughing and to be fair the camera is behind their heads. but it does Not look like anyone's laughing. my favorite is at the end of the phone call to chris scene where knox is like i'm gonna seize the day!! and runs up the stairs and the poets are cheering him on and neil is sort of yelling "carpe!!!!" and i could be wrong but i'm like 75% certain that the person singing is Also rsl so now neil is just speaking two times at once somehow. anyways it didn't ruin the experience for me or anything it was maybe just a little bit funny to notice but very sorry if this did ruin anyone's viewing.

people talk a lot about how rsl and ethan hawke really made their characters what they are but i have to add dylan kussman to that list. I get the impression that older versions of the movie didn't really give as much depth to cameron and watching dylan kussmans performance is like. he Knew who his character was so fucking well and it shows!! like the deleted scene of them getting clubs assigned. like i could tell So Much about cameron from that scene

for how little she actually appeared, there is an emphasis put on the fact that neil's mom smokes pretty frequently. and i think that's interesting considering neil is one of two poets shown actively smoking. neil's mom doesn't appear for very long in the movie but during that time it definitely seems like the movie is intentionally making parallels between the two, particularly in the last argument with neil's father. neil and his mother are both sitting for almost the whole time, which contrasts with his father who is standing. they are both almost powerless in this scene. they stand up at almost the same time. anyways there's a couple different possibilities for what this could mean? that i've though of? 1. to show that neil's mother is in a similar situation to the one neil is in in regards to neil's father and 2. maybe a stretch here but the theory that neil inherited his mental illness at least partially from his mother. i'm pretty sure 1 was fully intentional on the directors part, not entirely sure about 2 though

unmanned flying desket scene: it's probably cause he and ethan wrote the scene themselves but the way rsl talks in this scene feels more like the way he talks in general than the rest of the script. like briefly neil perry is talking in rsl's voice. one of my absolute favorite scenes though the sarcastic dialogue is so good.

the light of knowledge at the first shot of the film vs. todd standing on his desk at the last shot of the film paralel

#there was a whole additional part of this post that was about knox and charlies relationship with their parents #but it ended up being half of what i wrote here and i still had more to add so i'm making that a separate post #that should be posted in a few days i'm not a fast writer #neil perry #richard cameron #gerard pitts #todd anderson #dead poets society #dps #hopefully coherent

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athousandbyeol · 6 days ago

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keep up the thamepo [episode 4]

good Lord, so many things are unfolding in this episode! it was quite an overwhelming watch for me, to be honest. i didn't expect the story to change its pacing for the first three parts of the episode. it was a pleasant, surprise! and I believe it was intentional because it had to do with dylan's 'fire'. it's so well done!

therefore, aside from addressing the symbolism of dylan's fire as the rage that affected the pacing of the early parts, I also want to delve into the relationship between thame and dylan and the physical distance (but growing emotional connection) between thame and po. additionally, I want to address the potential parallels between ep 4 jun/po and the possible ep of jun/po because something's going to happen and it won't be as pretty. also, other thoughts will come to mind as I'm writing this post xD

1. dylan as the fire; thame as his water — easily sparked, easily distinguished

dylan is such an interesting character to me because his rage is rooted in his feeling of betrayal for thame. i didn't see much dylan and thame in the official trailer, thus I was unsure how their story would unfold. but it's so crazy to me how thamepo is showing us these perspectives—like I mentioned in (all of) my posts—from every character, not just one. they serve as reliable narrators, providing insights into their emotional turmoil and the intentions behind their decisions.

it's a dylan-centred episode and i was honestly overwhelmed with how fast the first three parts of the story went. not putting it negatively, but i was used to the slow and languid pacing of the last three episodes, so this one felt like a hardcore punch in the face.

i wondered why it was constructed this way—because it wasn't rushed at all—it was just happening too quickly—like a spark of fire.

oh.

dylan is the fire.

that's why this episode felt like I was on fire while watching it. it burned and hurt and dissolved so quickly and I was shell-shocked at how well they incorporated this motif into the story, blending it with remnants of dylan's anger toward thame and the resolution of their conflict. it's so beautifully done. (I don't know, probably it's the lit side of me that regards this as something so groundbreaking because I don't really see that much infusion of symbolism/motifs in a story this seamlessly. I'm so proud. i adore p'mui and her team even more now T_T they know what they're doing really.)

however, i do feel like dylan's story could be explored just a little bit more. to me, jun's storyline was perfectly told, seasoned with the right amount of ingredients that made us resent, understand and root for him. yet, dylan's story feels more like on the surface level to me, even though his story has so many interesting points to talk about—social commentaries on idols vs artists, the industry's demands for in-trend music instead of authenticity, and the company's ability to stun an artist's growth.

i was hoping they would show snippets of dylan rapping to his songs or joining these underground rapping competitions and comparing his experiences doing these as a solo rapper and an idol rapper. i think these scenes could contribute to a better understanding of the origin of dylan's passion for rapping and producing, as well as unveiling the 'undiscovered' sides of idols/idol rappers in the underground scene—also the spark of betrayal that began because of his crushed dreams and witnessing his best friend 'ruining' everything they built together.

it's just me... but i really wanted dylan's story to be stretched just a bit more because it's not strongly tied to thame the way jun's story did. but I still respect p'mui's decision to tell dylan's story in this manner.

i love thame's persistence in wanting to bring dylan back first before nano because dylan is indeed very important to the group.

i think these two are the producers in the group (along with pepper), but they shared a deeper bond because dylan was difficult to approach, but thame befriended him anyway. (why are they reminding me of namjoon and yoongi T_T)

i love this found-family trope in thamepo, and every time they showed us how thame found the members—found the real them—my heart swelled.

and thame saw dylan's potential. he saw how enthusiastic dylan was in writing and producing. he saw dylan as an artist—an art—that should be appreciated. and it's so beautiful. :(

as mentioned before, the members loved thame as much as thame loved them. it's so obvious. the reason behind the drift between them was miscommunication, wrong/rushed decisions and the company's intervention and ability to twist the narrative to their liking. perhaps, all of these could be solved if thame and the members talked it down, but it's easier said than done. so I understand why the strain in the group happened/appeared. it's not easy to let down our egos, but I'm thankful that (with the help of po) thame could finally breach the line between him and the members, hence reviving the group before they crumbled.

moreover, i love how thame effortlessly switches his elements to suit the members' elements. jun was like the wind to me, and thame became the earth that kept him from flying away. dylan was fire, and thame became the water that distinguished his fire with sincerity and another promise that wouldn't be broken. (i have a feeling nano is the water, and thame might be the fire that boils his love and passion to be in the group again, to work together and reach for their dreams—as promised.)

2. physical distance, emotional connection- it makes thamepo's heart grow fonder

ok... so... the thing that's going on between thame and po is CRAZY.

again, i'm so surprised that the scene happened so early into the episode. i thought it would be around the middle (because from my observation, the intimacy of thame and po's exchange would only escalate towards the middle or end of an episode). but they were hitting us as hard as this in the first part and I was honestly struggling to breathe.

i LOVE these shots. it's so intimately captured. po was looking at thame from the spaces, and thame's focus was instantly on po once he saw him in the storage room.

there was a respectable distance between them (probably because of jun's presence in the room). i think it sets a foreground for us in future episodes, especially after they're already in a relationship: in the eyes of the public, there should be this distance—this five-metre distance—so that they could be accepted—so that they could exist without hurting each other.

and when p'mick came, they were 'forced' to hide and huddle so close to each other. this was when everything was unveiled, the rapid beating of their hearts, the golden light raining against their bodies, the yearning stares, the confusion, the hesitance, the answer, the need.

i personally love the idea that thame and po were in the moment, but the world was still revolving around them. p'mick and jun were still talking in the background, but thame and po were spiralling in this juncture of intimacy, of connection, of understanding their feelings and making no sense of everything they were experiencing—the oh moment.

because i think scenes like these are often a form of hyperbole: time stops when I look at him/her. the construction of similar scenes would often go the route of slow-mo or focus shots to emphasise the weight/message of the scene. to me, it's always overly done (and I find it a bit cliche... I'm sorry for saying this T_T). but this scene doesn't feel cringy to me. it's really subtle and sweet and purposeful.

but their moment ended too quickly.

again, the fire symbolism not only reflected thame/dylan's dynamic in this episode but also thame/po. (and I find this so CRAZILY WELL DONE!!!)

however, something about fire with po... i don't think they go well together because...

i think, po was all elements for earn's fire. earn wanted to build a career. he wanted to be successful. he was a blazing fire. and po changed himself according to everything earn needed, complimenting earn when he was indeed of something.

but this fire left him. this fire betrayed him. this fire destroyed him.

thame is all elements for MARS, too.

but when it's po and thame, who are they and what they'll become?

throughout the episode, we didn't get much of thamepo, not until the conflict between thame and dylan was resolved.

in my opinion, po is really the best partner for thame (and honestly, everyone) because of his diligence, patience, kindness and warmth. he's willing to search for the lyrics, going through boxes, and piecing the shredded lyrics together just to give it to thame—just to help him reach his goals.

he did all that to earn, too.

the shot above broke my heart because po felt the physical distance between them. he was already thinking about the conversation he shared with jun. he was already doubting himself. he was already self-destructing.

when he saw thame and dylan on stage, smiling, he was happy. he was glad and relieved that thame was okay and he achieved his goal of reuniting with his teammates. however, at this point, po might have thought that, oh, I was used again.

but we know it was never thame's intention to make po feel so helpless and worthless. thame knew what po's ex did to him. the emotional trauma/distress po's experienced couldn't easily be discarded. we can see some moments where po just stared into space. his anxiousness of always checking on his messages. po overthinks everything, already making scenarios in his head of the worst-case what-ifs.

earn took so much of po that po was still trying to find himself again—still wishing that the world would treat him better.

without po realising it, he was already emotionally depending on thame. because thame saw him. thame appreciated him. thame made him feel like he was po again, not earn's shadow, not a nobody.

but thame didn't reply to his message. thame didn't come to him afterwards. so po thought it was just in his head. it was impossible for thame to see him. everything thame said to po was—perhaps—only because of the spark of the moment.

but i'm thankful that thame called po before he could destroy the last ray of hope in him.

the conversations they shared were so heartfelt. even though they didn't meet the whole day, thame knew everything po was experiencing. he knew po was overthinking. and that, to me, is a sign of devotion. and it made me realise that thame and po were emotionally closer, emotionally connected, closer than their bodies could ever be.

thame apologised. he helped po regain his self-worth. he assured po that he would always be here. he would always feel for po. he would always care for po.

and po learned a lot about thame—he was closer to his dogs than his parents. he loves reading. he loves writing his thoughts down. everything so small and insignificant to others, but meant the whole universe for po.

and they became each other's safe zones.

i'm so sorry, but i relate to po in so many ways. i see myself in him the most (throughout all of my years of watching dramas). so I might be biased and root for him the most... and when he feels the most pain, I feel it too :( and when he's so happy talking to thame, I was over the moon. //i'm happy for thame, too. finally, he could give his neverending love to someone who needs that genuine devotion. thank you, thame :((//

and they were on call for nine hours??? and thame waited for po to wake up so that he could serenade his soon-to-be lover with his favourite song??? romance is restored! the slow burn is slow burning!

//this scene is too sweet that ants are starting to swarm the screen...//

3. potential parallels (aka upcoming heartbreaks) and nano/pepper's story arc

ok, so this is something that i couldn't stop thinking about after I watched the episode.

jun saw po. he saw right through po the way he saw straight through thame.

he knew po liked thame. i think he had an inkling that thame liked po too.

however, everything he said to po here was hurtful.

it reminded me of his story arc in ep 3. he was bad-mouthing thame, but it was for thame's benefit—it was his way of showing he cared.

i would like to indulge in the idea that jun cared about po too because he was the only one who knew thame's true intention behind everything he did, and who was helping (or enabling) it in the first place. he knew po was special to thame. but...

the nature of being an idol, i think jun knew it too well. he didn't want either thame or po to suffer in the future. because it'll be difficult to navigate their feelings, to hide their relationship, to behave like they don't mean anything when they're in public. i guess, jun was giving po a head's up, telling po that he wasn't thame's type, crushing po's fantasy of having something different with thame—not in a condescending manner—but rather i don't want you to fall too deeply. there's still a chance for you to move on from this.

but of course, they end up falling.

and this is the price they shall pay.

nano's storyline will be interesting because he's the youngest in the group—the maknae. usually, from my observation, the maknaes love their big brothers/sisters the most. they want nothing but the best for them. and they're willing to sacrifice themselves for them. they felt the most pain when their brothers/sisters experienced anything difficult, and vice versa. (I'm sorry if it's wrong... but this is what I gathered as a k-pop fan for more than ten years hehe...)

it's heartbreaking to see nano behaving this way. i think he was certain that the members didn't need him anymore. MARS was better as a four-membered group. he wasn't important to them how they were important to him.

but... we know that's not the case.

i'm so excited to see how nano found love and purpose in thame. we saw how important thame was to jun and dylan, so seeing it from nano's perspective will definitely serve as a treat (and more pain).

and pepper's story arc... oh God. i have a feeling he's the easiest to return to the group because he holds no grudges. he understands thame and sees the decisions he made were for the group. he's the mediator and also the connector of the group, and potentially thame's relationship advisor.

however... i think pepper's story arc will be the turning point in this story, the conflict, a reflection of thamepo's relationship in the future.

in the trailer, they held a press con and pepper was sitting in the middle. i think he would be involved in a gossip that might affect the group's reputation. but at that point, they'd already reunited, so all members were present to support him. AND ALSO, it was when thame kissed po in the storage room (?) so yes... so excited to see how pepper's story will unfold.

ok, before i end this post, i also want to add...

i think khun pemika knows that thame (and MARS/po) are plotting something behind her back because it's impossible for a company's CEO not to know what her artists are doing? she has many observers... it's not possible for another betrayal arc initiated from the people closest to MARS/po in the upcoming episodes...

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bellaxgiornata · 6 months ago

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The Devil at Your Window |6: A Clarifying Moment|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 4k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

a/n: It has been far too long since this series was updated! Hope y'all enjoy! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Startling on the couch as the oven timer beeped behind you, the noise interrupted you from the romance novel you'd been absorbed in for most of the evening. You earmarked the page you hadn't yet finished before leaning over and setting the book aside on your coffee table. Reluctantly rising from your cozy place on the couch, you tossed your blanket off and were immediately met with the faint chill of your apartment.

Breathing in the sweet, delicious scent of chocolate that was currently permeating its way through your place, you stepped around your couch and headed into the kitchen. Tonight you'd decided to pull out the boxed brownie mix you’d had in a cabinet and bake this evening as a comfort to yourself. Partly because doing something with your hands calmed you, and partly because you were craving something sweet to indulge in after the confusing day you’d had.

You'd been in an unusual mood today ever since your coworker, Stephanie, had once more mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date with one of her friends at lunch earlier. You hadn't been able to shake that weird feeling that had since been growing in your gut. Though today wasn't the first time that she had mentioned setting you up with her friend, Dylan; she had mentioned him a few times to you over the past couple of months.

Admittedly Dylan had sounded like someone you'd be interested in meeting from what she had told you about him, but you'd always been far too nervous to ever agree to let her give him your number. For weeks there had often been a part of you that regretted not just letting her because you'd long grown tired of coming home to an empty apartment night after night. You always wished that you had someone in your life who'd be here when you returned, someone to spend your weekends and evenings with. Someone instead of just the fictional characters in your books and television shows. But you were also tired of all the failed first dates you'd gone on, too. And a part of you was afraid that's exactly how things would end up with Dylan.

But Stephanie had also first mentioned Dylan to you before the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had fallen onto your fire escape during that snowstorm. And since then you had gone and stupidly formed a crush on him. Which had left you conflicted about the whole situation now. Did you accept a date with Dylan and potentially risk ruining whatever the hell was going on with you and the Devil–which seemed like it was mostly a whole lot of nothing at the moment. Or did you decline what could possibly be something worthwhile just for the possibility that the strange masked vigilante could actually be a potential love interest for you? Though you were certainly aware of how ridiculous just thinking that sounded considering you had no idea who the Devil even was, what he looked like, or what he did outside of committing illegal acts of vigilantism most nights while apparently not feeding himself.

Grabbing the oven mitts from off of your countertop beside the stove with one hand, you reached your other hand out to turn off the timer and silence the incessant beeping of your oven. Slipping both oven mitts onto your hands, you bent down and opened the oven door before reaching inside and carefully retrieving the tray of brownies. Pulling them out, you set them on top of the stove to begin cooling.

Even now as you slid the oven mitts off of your hands and turned off the oven, you could feel that odd feeling continuing to gnaw at your insides. Truthfully you knew the logical thing to do was to just give Dylan a chance. You probably should just finally set up a date with him and see what happened. Maybe things would work out and maybe they wouldn't.

But even as you thought that, the masked man's smiling mouth appeared in your mind and your stomach twisted into knots while your heart simultaneously beat a little erratically in your chest. The thought of accepting a date with someone else–someone that wasn’t the curious and charming Devil–almost made you feel sick to your stomach. Which was absolutely idiotic and ridiculous. Especially because you hadn’t forgotten his comment about not wanting a relationship from the very first night you’d met him. You recalled how he’d said that a significant other would be a liability and a distraction. Which to you meant that the likelihood of something happening between you both, despite him seeming to constantly flirt with you, was slim.

Yet still you found yourself clinging to hope with both of your desperate hands.

The resounding tap tap tap of three sharp knocks from behind you drew you straight from your thoughts. Tossing the oven mitts in your hands onto your counter, you spun around in your kitchen, craning your neck to peer out of your window from where the sound had come. Not surprisingly, the Devil was standing on your fire escape and grinning back at you through the glass.

The sight of him had your stomach pathetically somersaulting inside of you. You were so excited to finally see him for the first time this week that you didn’t even bother fighting the smile that had hastily spilled its way across your lips.

“Apparently you only need to think of the Devil for him to appear,” you quietly whispered to yourself.

As you began making your way over towards him, you saw his head tilt to the side, the smile growing even wider on his mouth. Though the closer you neared to the window, the more you were able to spot the blood smeared along the lower half of his face just below the black fabric of his mask. Concern quickly replaced the excitement you’d initially felt at the sight of him, your feet hurrying you faster towards the window.

Unlocking it in a rush, you shoved the window all the way up and stepped to the side so the Devil could climb into your apartment. A cold burst of air flew inside as you watched him bend down, your arms quickly wrapping around your chest to keep warm.

“Are you alright?” you asked anxiously.

The Devil began to slip his way through the window’s opening, but as he moved with ease through the small gap, your eyes curiously landed on what he was carrying. A bouquet of white and pink lilies. You pulled a face at the sight of them, brows furrowing together in absolute confusion. Why was the Devil running around with a bouquet of flowers tonight?

“Perfectly alright,” the Devil answered, drawing your attention back to his masked face. “Why do you ask?”

You watched as he straightened up, shooting you a wide, blood-stained smile. Grimacing at the grisly sight, you shook your head before turning and closing the window after him. The howling of the wind quieted, though the bitterness of the winter night lingered in your apartment.

“Because your face is covered in blood,” you said, turning back around and pointing a finger at him. “It looks like your nose was bleeding.”

The Devil raised his free hand up, his gloved fingers dabbing at his nose which was still mostly hidden by the material of his mask. Shrugging his shoulders, his hand lowered back to his side as his attention returned to you.

“Must’ve stopped,” he replied. “Though admittedly someone did manage to hit me in the face tonight. Was actually part of the reason why I’m a bit later stopping by than I’d planned. And why these,” he said, extending the bouquet of flowers out towards you, your eyes widening in shock at the gesture, “are probably looking a little worse for wear now. Had to stop a mugging on my way to come see you, which wasn’t part of the plan, either.”

Standing there in absolute stunned silence, your eyes were glued to the bouquet of lilies. Admittedly a few of them did look a little battered, but overall they were beautiful. You could smell the fragrant scent of them over the strong smell of brownies coming from your kitchen. But you had no idea how to even react to the bouquet that he was offering you, and your lack of response was seemingly becoming apparent to the Devil judging by the way his smile faltered along his lips.

“I–I don’t understand,” you finally stammered out. “Flowers? You brought flowers for…me?”

The Devil’s head tilted to the side, his smile gradually slipping off his face. Though his hand with the bouquet remained outstretched towards you, your eyes still very much focused on them in confusion. Did you dare to hope they were meant as some sort of romantic gesture from him? That maybe he’d planned to stop by and possibly ask you out on a date tonight? Maybe he’d finally tell you exactly who he was? Let you see his face? You felt your excitement flooding through your body at just the thought of that.

“Of course they’re for you, angel,” he said, his usual charming smile returning. “They’re a thank you. For that Devil’s Pantry you set up earlier this week.”

Immediately your heart–which you hadn’t even realized had begun beating frantically in ecstatic hopefulness at that nickname uttered from his beautiful mouth–stuttered in your chest before slowing back down as the rest of what he’d said registered in your ears. Of course that’s why he’d brought you flowers, it was the only reason that would’ve made sense.

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Uh, well thank you, but you really didn’t need to do that.”

Something about the slight twitch to the corner of his bloodied lips and the shifting of his head caught your eye. You wondered what face he was making behind his mask as you cautiously reached out and accepted the bouquet from his hand. Not for the first time you found yourself wishing that you could see his full expression instead of so much black.

“I wanted to thank you,” he told you. “Not many people think about me like you do. Worry about me.” With a chuckle he added, “ Or my kidneys.”

You laughed half-heartedly, still trying to recover from having stupidly misread the flowers as you turned and made your way into the kitchen in search of something to use as a vase. You didn’t often receive flowers, which meant you didn’t have an actual vase on hand–something you were currently feeling a little embarrassed about and hoping he wasn't judging you for.

“Well you really should be drinking more water,” you told him, eventually pulling out a large glass from a cabinet. “You’re going to have kidney damage before you know it.”

“Pretty sure there’ll be worse things happening to me before then,” he joked back. “Considering how I spend my evenings, just having both kidneys still intact already sounds like a win.”

You rolled your eyes at him, bringing the glass over towards your faucet and filling it with water. When it was half filled, you turned off the faucet and slipped the bouquet into the makeshift vase, pausing to admire the pretty flowers. Briefly you’d wondered why he’d picked lilies, but the thought quickly vanished when your eyes caught sight of a few specks of blood splattered along some of the petals. The Devil’s blood, you guessed.

Turning, you set the flowers down on your kitchen counter before your attention returned to the Devil. He was still standing beside your window and silently watching you. With the light from your living room shining on him, you could more clearly see the blood covering the lower half of his face. You winced at the sight.

“What?” he asked. “Something wrong?”

“Just that you have a lot of–” you paused, gesturing a hand towards your mouth, “–blood still on your face. Would you mind if maybe I…helped you clean that up? Make sure your nose really did stop bleeding?”

For a moment the masked man stood there, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet as if he was contemplating your offer. Eventually he slowly nodded.

“I suppose so,” he answered.

“Alright, let me just grab a wash cloth or something,” you told him, exiting your kitchen and making your way past him. “You can make yourself comfortable on the couch if you’d like.”

As you headed down the short hallway and into your bathroom, you heard the strangely light sound of his footsteps in those heavy boots of his. You assumed he’d done exactly what you'd suggested and sat down.

Once in the bathroom, you bent down and opened the cabinet beneath your sink, your eyes scanning the towels you had stored in the small space. Finding a navy blue hand towel that looked dark enough to not show a permanent bloodstain, you pulled it out before closing the cabinet door and standing back up. Turning on the bathroom faucet, you gave the water a few seconds to warm up before you wetted the fabric of the towel. Afterwards, you wrung out the extra water before leaving the bathroom and making your way back down the short hall towards your living room.

You found the Devil sitting on your couch just as you'd expected. As you approached him, you noticed how his masked head appeared to track your movements, following each of your footsteps towards him through the room. For some reason his gaze so closely focused on you had you feeling exceptionally self-conscious, a shudder running down your spine. But you also noticed a spark of something you’d never quite felt before shoot through you like wildfire. You realized that you liked the intensity of his gaze on you. Probably more than you should have considering his face was half-covered in his own blood.

Lowering yourself onto the couch beside him, you bit your lip as you tucked your legs up underneath yourself on the cushion. Resting an elbow on the backrest of the couch, you turned and faced him completely. He’d moved a little towards you in turn when you’d settled down, his masked face shifting towards you. Hesitantly you reached your left hand out, though it immediately hovered in the space between you both, your fingers mere inches from his face. His head canted the smallest fraction to the side at your hesitation.

“Is it alright if I lift the mask just enough to uncover your nose?” you asked, your voice softer than you’d intended. “I promise I won’t lift it any higher.”

The Devil's lips curled faintly upwards at your question before he nodded once.

“I trust you,” he answered in his deep voice.

Something about him so casually stating that he trusted you had your tongue darting out to nervously wet your lips, your heart thudding a little more loudly in your own ears. Left hand closing the remaining distance between you both, you gingerly grasped the black fabric of his mask between your thumb and index finger, very aware of how intimate this felt–especially as your fingers brushed against the skin of his cheek. The moment felt almost as intimate as the time you’d undressed him from his wet clothes and kept him warm while he’d been meditating in your apartment. You figured not many people–if any–had ever been allowed to so easily touch his mask. And yet here you were, raising it just a few centimeters to reveal a fraction more of his bloodied nose so that you could clean that blood from off of him.

Briefly you held your breath as you raised the mask, too focused on the slow reveal of a little more of this mysterious man's face to do much else. Though you didn’t dare push your luck with raising it any higher than the marginal bit you had once the bottom of his nose was no longer covered. Reluctantly your fingers released the fabric and your left hand gently came to rest along his neck, just below his jaw, in an attempt to balance yourself as you leaned forward towards him. Reaching your thumb up to the underside of his chin, your finger carefully tilted his face at a better angle. Carefully you began to clean off the blood along the bottom of his nose with the damp towel in your other hand.

You were thankful that the blood washed off his skin fairly easily and required minimal effort of scrubbing on your part as the Devil sat quiet and still beneath your hands. Because truthfully as you worked, your mind was focused on his skin beneath your left hand, finding it hard to believe that you were touching such a vulnerable spot on his neck. It was taking every ounce of your energy to stay focused on your task–as it usually seemed to be whenever you helped the Devil like this. It didn't help that you couldn't see his eyes beneath the mask, making you wonder if he was as focused on you as you were on him.

When you'd finally cleaned his nose, you began to wash the blood from beside his mouth next. While you worked, you noticed that his lips had visibly parted just enough for you to feel the warm breath passing between them. As each of his exhales brushed over the back of your knuckles, you felt yourself becoming a little lightheaded. That's when you suddenly realized just how close you'd ended up leaning in towards him on the couch.

Your eyes darted up, your pulse increasing when you saw that masked face mere inches from yours. Accidentally losing your balance when you’d tried to shift backwards and put some space between you both, you instead almost fell forward into his lap on the couch cushion you were both sharing. It was the Devil’s gloved hand darting up in response, landing on your hip and easily steadying you, that kept you from tumbling right into him. Though for some reason his hand hadn't just steadied you, it had pulled you back in towards him once he'd helped you regain your balance. And then he’d left it there.

Trying to calm your heart that was still thundering loud in your own ears, your eyes focused on his mouth as you took a deep breath in. The sight of his plush lips just within your reach was making it difficult for you to think about anything else–like cleaning off the rest of the blood along his stubbled chin. At this point, heat wasn't just creeping up your neck at how embarrassing this all was, but also at the fact that your hand had somehow come to rest along his cheek. It didn't help that his large gloved hand was still gripping your hip and keeping you close.

“Sorry,” you muttered awkwardly.

The corner of his lip twitched before his expression became unreadable once more.

“Don't worry about it, angel,” he replied in his gravely tone.

Forcing yourself to return to your task, your hand on his cheek tilting his face once more, you finished gently cleaning off the blood from the rest of him. Though the air still felt tense and charged with something impossible to ignore as you drew the bloodied blue towel away from the Devil’s face. Staring back at him, your eyes couldn't resist memorizing the bit of his nose that you’d revealed a bit ago. You didn't often get to see much more of his face, so you wanted to take full advantage of your current opportunity. But inevitably your gaze dropped lower and you found yourself once more mesmerized by his still slightly parted lips–the same lips that often haunted your dreams lately. Tempted to trace the line of them with a finger, your thumb on his cheek slid closer to his mouth entirely of its own accord. His own hand immediately squeezed your hip in response. You froze instantly.

You'd thought about a moment like this occurring between you both far too often lately. A moment where he'd let his guard down after all of those teasing flirtatious comments you’d endured, one where he actually let you in. A moment when he'd stop messing around with you and just finally kiss you. Because right now you swore you could feel something in the air between you both, swore that he'd even leaned in closer towards you. And his damn hand was still on your hip long after he had used it to steady you, even drawing you closer to him with it.

There was something going on here. There had to be. If there wasn't, why did he keep giving you all these signals otherwise? Bringing you flowers as a thank you? Letting you take care of him? Repeatedly showing up at your place and considering it somewhere safe for him? With the way you acted around him, he had to know you were attracted to him.

But before anything more could happen, the Devil’s hand quickly released your hip and simultaneously crushed your hopes. He loudly cleared his throat, his hand reaching up instead to lower the mask back over his nose as he turned his face away from you. Your hand fell from his cheek, embarrassment further burning through you at the obvious rejection. Lips pressing together, you quickly slid away from him on the couch and rose to your feet.

“Thank you,” he said, voice tense.

“Of course,” you replied, eyes on your feet as you maneuvered around your coffee table. “Couldn't have you wearing your blood while you were here. I'm just going to rinse out this towel and then I can grab you some water.” Hurriedly making your way down the short hallway towards your bathroom, you said over your shoulder, “I made brownies if you want some.”

“I know,” the Devil called back. “I could smell them from half a block away.”

Stepping into your bathroom, you paused in front of the sink, your hand hovering over the faucet. Your reflection in the mirror stared back at you as your brows knitted together at his comment. That was yet another odd thing for him to say. With a shake of your head, you turned on the faucet and began to rinse his blood from the towel, too preoccupied thinking about what had just transpired in your living room to make sense of the strange things he sometimes said.

As you stood there watching your sink run red from the Devil’s blood, you felt your stomach drop at what had just happened between you both–or rather, what hadn't happened. Why had he ended the moment like that? Was it because he didn't feel the same way? Or because he believed having someone in his life really would just be a distraction and liability that he didn't want? Because you found it hard to believe that he hadn't felt something after that near kiss on your couch, even if right now you just felt rejected and embarrassed.

Glancing up at your reflection in the mirror while you continued to rinse his blood from the towel, you released a sigh. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to give Dylan a chance after all. Maybe going on a date with a man who actually gave you his name and let you see his face was the best thing for your heart right now instead of pining after the mysterious vigilante who was fast beginning to feel too far out of your reach despite him currently sitting on your couch.

Turning off the faucet, you wrung out the hand towel once more. Making up your mind, you decided that you'd finally tell Stephanie at work tomorrow to give Dylan your number. You'd agree to that first date once and for all.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock angst

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