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

bellaxgiornata · 10 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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cuteandhughesy · 9 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.

[word count] 15.9K

🎵 dazed & confused by ruel, how do I do this by kelsea ballerini, labyrinth by taylor swift, espresso by sabrina carpenter, guilty as sin? by taylor swift, good looking by suki waterhouse, + love of my life by harry styles

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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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distort-opia · 3 months ago

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@psalmsofpsychosis I didn't want to make that post longer by reblogging it, but... well, I feel that it's something that started with The Killing Joke and then never truly stopped? And perhaps the core of it can be summarized by something Bruce said then:

"You needn't be alone." (Small paranthesis: I like Kevin Conroy's rendition of this line in the animated movie a lot more... He says "You don't need to be alone. We don't have to kill each other." He emphasizes "need" and his voice slightly breaks on it in a way that makes me want to drink cement, frankly.)

At the end of the day, Batman can make Joker vulnerable because he's the only one Joker can relate to, and thus the only equal Joker has. Batman is the only other human being Joker sees as a person. But the very act of caring about someone betrays in him a need for connection, for meaning-- no matter how stunted or emaciated and starved. This is where the "getting dragged kicking and screaming" part comes in. Joker has chosen to be inhuman, he's intentionally made himself into a monster. If Bruce coped with his trauma by becoming Batman, the man who fell into the acid vat chose to cope with his by becoming Joker. Both chose to become something more than human, but in opposite directions. One preserves life at all costs while the other snuffs it out. One intentionally suffuses the world with meaning and attempts to control every aspect of it he can, while the other sees no point in anything at all and aims to sow as much as chaos as possible. But also, one intentionally surrounds himself with people and forges connections that keep him human, while the other shuns any kind of genuine emotional attachment or relationship.

Except one. Joker simply can't destroy his connection to Batman, no matter how much he wants to, and occasionally even tries to. Batman made him, however accidentally... if Batman hadn't been there at ACE Chemicals, Joker would not have been faced with the choice of getting caught or committing suicide. He wouldn't have had to choose how exactly to make sense of his permanent disfigurement, how to live with it. Batman is essential to the creation of his "Joker" identity; he's also a threat to it, by virtue of how much Joker cares about him. So Joker's solution has been to make Batman inhuman too. A fellow creature, an embodiment of cosmic forces, something that can be idealized and thus objectified.

This solution doesn't always work, and it's because Bruce doesn't always play along. Bruce's humanity drags Joker's humanity along with it. Because what's "You needn't be alone" if not a different way for Bruce to say "I needn't be alone"?

Batman: Endgame

Batman (2016) #49

Batman: Joker War

In the Endgame example Bruce pretty much literally drags Joker kicking and screaming into being a person. For both of them it's always about one thing, in moments like these: being left alone. Being left behind. For Joker, anything that threatens Batman is another way through which this could happen... whether it's Bruce having chosen his Family at the end of Death of the Family, Bruce planning to marry Selina, or Bruce getting back together with Selina and unsuccessfully trying to have the best of both being Batman and Bruce Wayne. No matter how inhuman and monstrous Joker's made himself, the idea of being alone makes him panic, and the only one capable of making him act in such a painfully desperate way is Batman.

As a last thing, I do want to say that I love the Batman/Dylan Dog crossover for its novel premise of Joker feeling alone, even with Batman perfectly alive and kicking. It's a fascinating window into what Joker's current relationship with Batman can't give him. But this post is already so long, I'll put the rest under a cut.

Joker literally resurrects a dead guy so he can have a companion:

And then, Joker's interactions with Batman after he gets rejected...

It's such an interesting exchange, to me. Batman is pretty much saying "Did you think if you left me Gotham I'd let you go?" but their relationship is solely made out of violence. He hunts Joker. He hurts Joker. That's the only thing he can give, and he struggles with accepting that Joker might want anything else; that he could be more than a monster.

Batman/Dylan Dog #3

Most of the time, the violence is what Joker wants, for a myriad of reasons. But other times, Joker wants someone to understand. He wants someone to stand with him at the heart of chaos, meaninglessness and disorder-- someone to recognize that the world is pointless and hate it and hurt it. This is what drives him to try and get Batman to kill him, because that's the only way Batman would become like him. The only way to make him see what Joker sees.

...But I'll stop before this turns into an essay about Batman/Dylan Dog. I'm obsessed with all the rare instances Joker tries to leave Batman behind, because it elicits the opposite out of Bruce in such a delicious way. Joker turns into an emotional mess, suicidal and grasping at straws, but Bruce turns into someone horrible. Someone who'd beat Joker within an inch of his life, someone who'd rather hold Joker down so that they'd die together rather than let him go.

#ugh. they make me so insane. I hope you enjoyed this very long tangent <3 #long post #batjokes #batjokes meta #joker #joker meta #bruce wayne #batman

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georgeharrisonsmiling · 2 months ago

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Why do you think that John seemed so affected by George's new bonds? George never stopped talking good about him anyway. They didn't fight like George and Paul.

First of all, John had many issues, especially abandonment issues. A lot has been talked about John's problems so I want to focus on George for a bit.

We know that George had many obsessions during his lifetime and there are always jokes about his hyper fixations in the fandom, but it is important to notice that George managed to charm every single object of his affections into a lifetime friendship. Some examples are:

He went from wanting to learn sitar to becoming part of Ravi's family.

Bob Dylan wrote with him, became his friend and even accepted to join a band with George.

George liked Monty Python and Eric Idle was there when he passed away.

George liked F1 races, and many pilots ended up becoming very close friends.

How did George manage to create these bonds with people he was so obsessed over? Without context, George sounds like a stalker in most cases (he video taped Dylan constantly, Eric Idle didn't want to talk to him at first, he offered Ravi money for his first sitar lessons, etc...) but people let him in because all agree that George was sweet, genuinely interested and humble about what he liked. His personality and dedication won over many talented people who appreciated his attention, support and love.

For many years, most of that attention was focused on John but I think that John took it for granted until eventually George's love was also directed to too many places for his taste and the book was probably the definitive proof that George didn't love him like he used to. John went from George following around to communicate mainly through occasional postcards. Now, if we add John's abandonment issues and him over sharing with the press, we get that unfortunate playboy interview that ended up being John's final message to George.

It's not like John lost George's admiration or respect, but he wasn't good at reciprocating it and isolated himself. George then went with people who wanted to be with him and didn't chase after John anymore. George could never have guessed the effect that "omitting" John from his book caused.

#ask #george harrison #john lennon #lennison #this is my take at least

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threeacttragedy · 7 months ago

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Entry 8: The One About the Adjacent of Convenience

Are you guys ready to return to our regularly scheduled programme?

Actually, I must applaud the majority of the people who read my blog for how well they handled Sunday. It seemed many of you got a good laugh out of it and were then gifted Monday morning with an updated post from that dear restauranteur tossing out Lady Whistledown’s name for – honestly, I don’t know why he threw it out there. Do you?

Moving on…

Yesterday, I discussed Antonia. Today, I am going to venture over to the other side of the fandom and discuss – you guessed it – Jake Dunn.

And, no, I’m not summoning the Balrog today. In fact, I don’t equate Jake to a creature from the depths of Moria because, generally speaking, he doesn’t bother me.

Do I find him a tad annoying? Of course I do. But, only because the perception of his relationship with Nicola has been warped into something ass backwards (no pun intended) to anyone with two bits of common sense, and because he’s always inconveniently there.

At the right time.

For those pap pictures.

However, the rational side of my brain reminds me that if I don’t see anything romantic in Nicola’s relationships with, say, JVN, Mark, Golda, Jack, or either of the Dylans, I shouldn’t be bothered by her relationship with Jake. Would we be paying any attention to Jake if he wasn’t being shoved down our throats by anti-Lukolas? No, probably not.

But, here we are.

I will preface this entry with my belief that Jake did not ask to be linked romantically to Nicola. That was Deux Moi's doing. Keep that in mind as you read through this. Deux Moi created that bullshit plotline and then rabid dogs ran with it.

By the way, those are the people you should be worried about. The ones pushing their “Jakola” narratives with blind aggression. I’m talking about those “in your face” assholes whose real motive behind shipping Nicola with anyone-but-Luke is solely based on their rapid-fire hatred towards Luke. These people are not Jakolas; these people are the Jakholes.

*Oh, now is the time to slip this in… My disclaimer (or, my “ask”) for today is, let’s not pick on the Sincerely Ignorant Jakola shippers. They are just as volatile as the Sincerely Ignorant Lukola shippers. They spiral fast and hard, too. Seriously, don’t fuck with these people, please. I believe most of them to be nice people.

Thank you, next.

I know that some of you will argue that Jake is a manipulative little shit and intentionally tried to make connections between Nicola and himself by way of pictures in her personal spaces and a fucking bucket hat, and that may be true. In fact, I’ve heard this argument from Lukolas that I highly respect. It’s very possible Jake has taken advantage of his friendship with Nicola. I understand the argument behind this theory and, I’ll be honest, it has made me question Jake’s character.

But, that’s not the point I’m trying to make today.

Today, I want to focus on how Jake became an “adjacent of convenience.”

What is that exactly? Well, actually, I just now made that shit up. But, it means he’s an adjacent, not because he’s romantically involved with Nicola, but rather he was in the wrong place at the right time.

It’s funny to me, when you spend some time mapping out all the little nuances that make up the Lukola timeline, that you start seeing a bigger picture.

I do not know who was behind Papsmear. Word on the street is that it was Deux Moi. I don’t know if anyone has ever actually confirmed that so, for now, I can only speculate – and speculate I will!

If you look at events in chronological order, it is interesting that, in July, the day before a video of Luke and Antonia at the GQ dinner hit social media, Deux Moi posted old pictures of Luke and Antonia from, I believe, January. Why? It’s also interesting that the day before People Magazine published the Italy Pap pictures of Luke and Antonia, Deux Moi rehashed Papsmear. Again, why?

Do you see the patterns patterning?

I thought you would.

Then what happened?

Well, “Hot Boy Summer” suddenly came to an abrupt halt with Luke returning to London.

Alone.

Is it odd to you that Luke has not been papped with Antonia since the end of July? Because it’s pretty damn odd to me. Is it possible that Luke and Antonia ceased to be “together” at the end of July? If you have read my previous entry, you already know my opinion on this.

But, dammit, that’s a shame! No more scraps for the paps. How unfortunate for Deux Moi.

Okay, then what?

Well, “Chaos Week” began. We had Nicola posting a shit storm of content starting August 4 with French toast and ending August 16 with “Juna.” We had Wordle. We had Scrabble. We had the “Drink Your Milk” shirt. We had “Bless the Telephone.” We had “very demure, very mindful” (which, in my opinion, was confirming the intent behind “Chaos Week”). Oddly, all these things seemed to weigh heavily in Lukolas’ favor. We could even take it a bit further by including the August 22 “BTS Polin” picture and the August 23 “modern day carriage” story (you know, the picture of Nicola looking oh-so-come-hither-sexy in the back of a car), which was followed up two days later by JVN’s “finger” demo. I mean, the Lukola train was rolling, right?! Fuck, yeah, it was!

But, then it came to a very abrupt stop on August 25 when Deux Moi posted pictures of Nicola hanging out with Jake at a music festival. The narrative being given? Oh, so cozy vibes.

And, that’s the moment Jake became an adjacent of convenience.

Just from being at a concert.

Taking a picture with Nicola.

Before this point, did I know who Jake Dunn was? Yeah, I did. I’d seen – in fact DEUX MOI – post pictures of Nicola and Jake hanging out in a pub together in July. I’ll be honest, I looked Jake up at the time and everything I read about him seemed to point in the exact same direction it points to today – that he’s not romantically involved with Nicola.

In fact, I polled at least two dozen of my fellow Lukolas (with the majority of them being fellow Fact Finders, with a select few being “long haulers”) about whether they’d heard of “Jakolas” before August 25. Their answer was a collective and figuratively loud NO.

What does that say to you? It makes me believe that the Jakolas were born from those festival pictures.

How convenient.

Just a few short weeks after the Antonia/Luke ship (do they even have a name?) hit an iceberg (pun intended), we suddenly have the christening of a new ship. The USS Jakola.

How convenient.

Now, think about every good thing that has come about in the Lukola fandom since the Jakholes were released into the wild.

Every positive has been collectively counteracted with a negative.

Think about the timing of all those pap pictures with Jake.

Think about who is releasing those pap pictures.

Are the patterns starting to pattern in your head?

Think about how much effort Nicola has put into erasing the Jakola narrative.

Think about how little effort Nicola has put into erasing the Lukola narrative.

Think about how much that must piss the fuck out of the Jakholes. And Deux Moi.

Anyone want to go with me to rescue Jake from the USS Jakola? I heard the Jakholes put him in the hull closet.

If you have some hesitation, I suppose I could agree to keep him hostage until we know where his allegiance lies. But I'm thinking he's dying to get off that ship.

#lukola #luke newton #nicola coughlan #my thoughts #speculation only #my opinion #adjacent of convenience

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canadian-pug-cartel · 6 months ago

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Rewatched now you see me im having thoughts

The way the editing of this movie and the way the characters are shown behaving is so good in this movie for setting up both Jack’s death AND the found family

There are a ton of hints to Jack “dying” not just jack having the death card but also the way the movie makes it look like the others don’t care about him at all that he’s just the kid who got in too deep with these people who only tolerate each other

The most blatant example of this is with Daniel on the plane Jack wanting to speak to Danny about his roll in the show and Danny dismisses him the way you would a child (patting his cheek and saying “sure bud”) then not 10 minutes later when Jack asks to try and read Art but Danny talks over him

Even in the New Orleans show Jack has a small roll this (to the audience who doesn’t know better) makes it seem like the others don’t necessarily trust him enough to give him larger parts

Then during the apartment scene (before the fight) Merritt makes comments about how he’s only here for “the pot at the end of the rainbow” again reinforcing the idea that they’re only coworkers (this is very in character for Merritt only being interested in the money (and also Merritt trying to not get attached)) later in the scene Daniel is leaving jack behind to burn it all and telling him to “grow up” is just harsh enough and just in character enough to make it feel like these magicians (excluding Jack because the way it’s written puts Jack in the position as the only one who actually enjoys being with the others and views them highly) don’t want to be around each other for longer than they have to and tragically their rush to get this over with and their disregard for each other and Jack results in his death

And it’s ONLY after Dylan is revealed to be in on it do the horsemen act like they like each other and behaving how they (likely) acted off screen and during their year together

The bit of them acting like a family is perfectly set up and ready to be used for the second film for interpersonal conflict and at the end of the movie result in healing (Merritt getting over his brothers betrayal and being vulnerable around them and Dylan becoming the father that he wished he had and wished was still alive)

TLDR this is found family the movie

#pug cartel talks #now you see me #jack wilder #merritt mckinney #henley reeves #j daniel atlas #dylan rhodes #I have so many thoughts about this movie #im unwell im so unwell #i love them so much #found family

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lukemfhughes · 6 months 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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abbysimsfun · 29 days ago

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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 185 (Pearl in the City)

At the age of nine, Pearl Richards received placeholder admission to the San My Ballet Company - the professional arm of the ballet school she'd attended since she was five years old. Most dancers who entered the company as Junior Students needed to audition, but Pearl was a prodigy. She'd already been getting special mentorship from several of the older students for years.

The San My Ballet Company knew they'd lose her to another somewhere else if they didn't hold a place for her, but Pearl didn't take it for granted. Every day since she received her offer of admission, she practiced at every possible opportunity to be sure she was ready when she turned thirteen.

Whether practicing in the performing arts centre's dingy old basement, the updated school studio, or her bedroom, Pearl never stopped dancing. If her mother or grandmother asked her to help with dinner, she inevitably ended up practicing her moves in the hallway. She was so consistent, her father and brother couldn't resist teasing her from time to time.

"Look at us? We're ballerinas, too!" Darrell said, cackling as he and Gavin moved decidedly unlike ballerinas while she tuned them out. She practiced her "stage face" as often as her moves.

She was fairly skilled at ignoring Darrell when he'd try to distract her from her combinations by peppering her with questions.

"Pearl, did you want to hear a joke? What's a ballerina's favourite day of the year? February 2nd because it's 2/2! What do you think would happen if you stopped dancing for five minutes? How do you stand on your toes after you broke two last year?"

Eventually, his game of questions always wore thin. "Mom! Dad! Darrell's being annoying!" she would yell, and they'd come in to find him something else to do.

Pearl, of course, could see no future but one in which spotlights illuminated her as she moved across the biggest stages in the world. Her name would be synonymous with ballet far beyond San Myshuno, and sims would travel from far and wide to see her dance.

Dylan and Gavin were supportive of their daughter's talent and passion, but they also tried to steer her toward other interests. They knew ballet was a small and competitive industry rife with injuries, and they wanted to prepare their daughter for any possible outcome as she chased her dreams.

When she wasn't at school or practicing ballet, she was often volunteering her time down at the Soup Kitchen. Now that she was almost thirteen, she spent less time with the kids at the shelter and more time helping with chores to keep the place running smoothly.

But while Gavin coached Darrell on the basketball court in the yard, disinterested Pearl usually found herself practicing her dance moves.

The family had surprising news when Dylan learned she was expecting a third child. Darrell was already ten years old; she and Gavin had thought they were past the diaper stage. But they welcomed the news with the encouragement of Dylan's mother, Susan, who lived in the spare bedroom of their apartment.

The tiny place they'd lived in when Pearl and Darrell were younger was a dive they quickly outgrew, but even though they now had a much bigger place in a well-kept historical building in the Arts Quarter, everyone was a little bit worried about adding a needy infant to the family's fairly organized chaos.

After her closest friend, Ash Landgraab, moved back to Brindleton Bay following the death of his grandfather, Dylan caught Pearl frowning before dinner. "Mrs. Landgraab said you asked about Ash at the studio today. Do you miss him?"

"I don't miss him that much," she argued. "But he used to come to the shelter with me and no one else wants to help."

"None of the other kids at school want to volunteer with you?"

"No. Cristal and Noemi Zest said they'd come before Ash moved back, but now they're too busy with all their dogs and the dancer they're hosting for the Company."

"That's the boy from Evergreen Harbour, isn't it? Charlie Wise?"

She nodded. "I haven't met him yet."

Dylan forced a smile, hoping her daughter might catch it. "Well, you will soon. And you'll see Ash again. He'll be back to visit the Landgraabs before too long."

"It's not about Ash, Mom!" She rolled her eyes. "I know I'll see him again."

Dylan let her moody daughter have a moment to herself, heading to the kitchen to help Susan get dinner on the table.

The arrival of her baby sister, Felicia, led to a joyous but hectic few months in the Richards household, which meant a quiet birthday celebration at home when Pearl became a teenager.

Susan made three matcha tea cakes for her health conscious, dance machine granddaughter (because she took a slice of the first and Darrell took a slice of the second before Pearl could blow out the candles, to my utter delight 🙃), and Pearl aged up with her family cheering her on.

Pearl grew into a beautiful teen ballerina with drive to spare, and she set her focus on her dreams for the future with the full support of her loving family. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: If you read on Wednesday that Pearl still needed to audition because I was supposed to change that line before it posted (I changed it roughly an hour or so after it was posted!), know that I considered having her audition but ultimately decided there was no suspense to it because I've been talking for ages about what a prodigy she is. I was always going to give Pearl the professional ballet career from @janesimsten's Ballet mod! Now that she's in high school full-time, she also spends evenings at her new job. That's dedication!

NOTE 2: Shout out to @changingplumbob for approving the appearance of Natasha Lobo (originally created by @bloomingkyras) as Pearl's older student mentor in the opening photos. I love Natasha, so thank you for letting me keep her canon to my sims' timeline, too! And we have a reappearance of the spa/studio Barre Raized by @oimygiblets, which is such a great build! Thank you for creating pixel people and pixel boxes I can play with!

NOTE 3: Felicia Richards is the first baby born in my game's latest boom, by the way. First of many to come, including both Pleasant twins! But who else?? 🤔

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #gavin richards #san myshuno

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pige0ns · 2 months ago

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thinking about the progression of the concept of wholeness in severance. in season 1, lumon's wellness sessions involve having innies hearing facts about their outies. which serves as a kind of tacit acknowledgement that severance is indeed a wound. each fact as a pseudo-suture across the gap between severed selves. of course, in typical lumon minilove newspeak form, there is no actual wellness, or suturing happening. the framing of it as a rare treat mostly serves to remind the innies of their separation from, and subordination to, their outies. it’s more puncturing than joining. a controlled facsimile of something nourishing, like an egg split into sixths. the way the innies talk about their outies in season 1 also reinforces this relationship: a kind of yearning identification that emphasizes that there is something absent to yearn for in the first place. dylan’s fantasies about his outie’s life. helly thinking “my outie wouldn’t do that to me.” their hope that by reaching the outside world they’d be able to bridge the scission that defines their lives. someone will care, won’t they? the image of dylan straining across the doorway in season 1 finale is key. it’s the image of a stitch across two halves that don’t want to be whole.

i think it’s interesting that the show itself uses the language of “stitching” in reference to reintegration. petey in “in perpetuity” (1x03) says “it’s like having two different lives suddenly stitched together” and in “who is alive?” (2x03) reghabi promises mark that she “can sew together a version of [him] that loves [gemma] with a version of [him] that can—” with the rest left unsaid. the fact that both lines occur in episode three of their respective seasons creates even more of a parallel between them. there’s something suspect in this language. stitching parts of humans together suggests frankenstein and other horror. there’s no talk of healing, even if stitches can be used that way. the violent, mad scientist aspect of sewing and reintegration makes it feel closer to lumon’s seductive claims (via milchick) that one “must be cut to heal,” rather than a legitimate path towards healing. whatever that might look like. the physical imagery we get during mark’s reintegration is stuff like coughing, nosebleeds, a scalpel cut, an insertion—imagery of illness and injury.

the show uses the word “whole” several times too. milchick in “half-loop” (1x02) (and what a title, half of a rounded thing, roundedness being associated with wholeness, return) saying “the office feels whole” after helly joins. the anti-severance movement being called “the whole mind collective.” irving in “the you you are” (1x04) saying that “kier’s whole original vision saw us all working together.” mark s in “cold harbor” (2x10) saying that he and the other innies find ways “to feel whole.”

basically, there’s an ongoing tension around what wholeness actually looks like. the starting premise of the show is that severance is a problem, but what’s the solution? because clearly, it’s easy to talk about wholeness, and dangle wholeness, without actually desiring it. and easy to be tempted by things that sound like wholeness, but may not really be.

and season 2 brings this tension to the fore. in season 1, there seemed to be a straightforward path ahead. severance is bad, but if the innies just make everyone aware of how bad it is, they’ll be able to heal, right? replace the fake wholeness with the real kind, right? but the fakeness goes deep. this is the role of both mark’s ersatz reintegration quest, and his gemma reunion quest. the two quests being, of course, directly related. the idea of wholeness is right there in the word “reunion.” you’ve been separated from something, and if you get it back (“i have to have her back”) you’ll be one again, a union. (the show itself doesn’t use the word reunion/union, so to some extent i’m just talking to myself with this, but i do think about how a marriage can be called a “union”). except this quest was always doomed, because it’s an attempt to make the wrong thing whole. mark scout is not trying to reunite the halves himself, the severance of which is the fundamental problem the show exists to explore. if anything, by trying to reunite with gemma, he is exacerbating the problem. it is the ultimate attempt to return to an unattainable past, to avoid pain. and so it’s no wonder that the end result is that mark scout and mark s finish the season the opposite of reintegrated. they’re no longer simply severed from each other; they’re actively opposed.

(telling that rescuing gemma is not what the show rejects. if anything, restoring her from a photograph—an object of grief—to person status, fits perfectly with the show’s criticism of the various ways one can repress humanity. it’s reuniting with her that’s the issue.)

in this light, there’s something bittersweet in mark s telling mark scout that they find ways to feel whole, clearly thinking of his relationships, especially with helly. something bittersweet in mark and helly reuniting with each other in “cold harbor” (their hug, their joined hands) versus the way mark scout cannot reunite with gemma (their interrupted embraces). and in the innies “union”-izing at helly’s urging. on the one hand, these unions are triumphant. they’re a win against the dehumanization and passivity of severance. the movement towards wholeness that they represent reads as real to me, because of helly's "i'm her" and the dylan innie-outie rapprochement in the same episode. but they also reveal the size of the abyss remaining. the innie rebellion is a stripping away of innocence and fakeness with regards to wholeness. but as with any rebellion, there's the graduate question of what comes next.

#severance

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percyvalli · 3 months ago

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Another interesting thought I had about severance is the idea of innies being literal child-adults. Like they ARE children just with basic understandings that children don't have like how an elevator works, how to write, etc. There are a lot of things a child learns about how to live life as they grow up that are hard to explain or pinpoint exactly. You might be able to convince a child to clean their room with candy, but only for a while. Then after that, you'll need to convince them of the personal importance of cleaning their room, so they'll do it without a bribe, and then continue to do it for years after by themselves. This can apply to a lot of things like basic hygiene and even respecting elders or people above you in the social hierarchy. I think the Lumon execs who designed the severed floor know this and that's why they framed the handbook as a religious text.

Dylan specifically started out as a more selfish character, prioritizing perks and success within the company but he slowly moves away from that and completely disregards his previous opinions on perks as he gets older and develops a more adult attachment to his friends. You can only bribe a child for so long, eventually, they are going to realize that what you are offering them isn't worth the task without a proper explanation. Irving is a good example of an older innie who has graduated from the age where a bribe would work. So the legacy of the Eagans is what is most important to him. Lumon doesn't need to convince him to work anymore because they've set him up to convince himself every day. He has a higher reason for working that satisfies his adolescent need to understand the world he lives in.

What's really interesting is that Helly doesn't seem to follow normal child development at all. She immediately has no interest in perks, no interest in the Eagan legacy, and no respect for her "betters". Right after Helly's birth, Dylan tries to convince Helly of the worth of perks. This doesn't even remotely work. Then, when things keep getting worse in terms of Helly's compliance, Milkshake throws a party for her reaching 75% (73%). Once again trying to bribe her with a perk, which is something that should have (and has) worked for an Innie of her age (meaning newborn). Not only does she reject the developmentally appropriate motivators, but she also rejects the motivators of innies much much older than she is. This honestly makes me think she's on the autism spectrum because it reminds me of how I acted as a kid too. The path kids normally take made no sense to me so I refused to follow it and the adults around me really hated that.

Her outie has lived long enough to know that while she may not like or function well in the path made for her, she must walk it anyway. Her outie has never had a choice and while we don't know anything about Helena's upbringing, I can assume the will to go her own way was snuffed out a long time ago. (I think Helena knowing that she'd be difficult as an Innie is pointing towards all of this as well)

#severance theory #severence #apple tv #helena eagan #helly r #mark scout #dylan g #irving bailiff

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bellaxgiornata · 11 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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