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#i promise i'll be more active these next few days<3

thehusbandoden · 9 months

Text

You Flinch During an Argument -Todoroki Shoto

Sooo I decided to change this into drabbles instead of headcannons and a drabble bc I'm a lot more comfortable writing in this format, sorry if this bothers anyone <33

Oh and this is a lot more fluffy bc I'm so soft for Sho <3

I'll make Bakugou's a lot more angsty tomorrow >:))

Angst to fluff/comfort | 1,057 words

Warnings!: Mention of arguing, flinching, fear of hurting/scaring your s/o, mention of abuse (Shoto's childhood), and spending money in copious amounts (is that a warning??). Pls let me know if I miss any <33

The argument was getting nowhere, you were exhausted, angry, and hurt. You also bet that Sho felt the same.

Sighing, you stand up and walk towards where Shoto was pacing around.

"Listen Sho, let's just go to bed, we can talk about this in the morning."

"Fine then, you go to be-" Shoto froze as he saw you flinch away from him, he wasn't going to.. hurt you. He would never hurt you.

"Did.. did you think I was going to hurt you?" Shoto asked, inwardly panicking as he rushed to your side, hands hovering over your arms, shoulders, and hands, too scared of hurting or scaring you to touch you.

"No baby no. It was some kinda reaction from my body, probably because the tension was high and we're heroes." You coo, grabbing Shoto's hands comfortingly.

"A-are you sure?" Shoto asked, body shaking as he moved his hands up and down your arms, trying to comfort you as best as he could.

"Positive my dear, lets just get to bed, yeah? We can talk about our.. disagreement in the morning." You smile, causing Shoto to nod as he followed you to your shared bedroom, hovering behind you as you go through your night time routine.

"Baby.. I promise I'm not scared of you." You whisper, turning around to hug Shoto as he hovered over your shoulder, heart broken.

"I- I know.. it just reminded me of mom.. and him.."

"Oh baby, no. That is completely different."

Hugging Shoto tighter, your heart partially broke as Shoto clung to you, burying his face in your neck, seeking any kind of comfort he could.

"T-this was a one time freak accident.. right?" Shoto asked, a few tears staining your shoulder as he let you comfort him, needing some kind of stability for him to be sane.

"Yes, yes this will only happen this one time. I was not scared of you, my body moved on its own, I hold zero fear towards you, my love."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Now, let's get to bed and cuddle, yeah?"

Shoto simply nodded, shuffling his feet in a way where he could move yet stay attached to you, and he completely climbed on top of you, burying his face into your chest as you played with his hair, kissing his forehead sweetly.

~~~

The next morning he was attached to you until you had to go to work, and even then he was very reluctant to let you go, asking for kiss after kiss as you attempted to leave.

You came home to a completely cleaned house, your favorite meal, and your favorite at home activity set up.

And the next day, after he came home from work he brought you flowers, your favorite treat, take out, a movie, and a book that's been rotting in your 'tbr' list on Amazon.

It stayed that way for at least a week and a half, Shoto doing everything he could to show you how much he truly loved you.

~~~

"Baby I'm home." Shoto calls, shutting the door with his foot as he moved to set todays findings on your kitchen island.

"Hey, you're home early!" You smile, quickly making your way to kiss Sho's lips before hugging him, smiling at the comforting warmth and smell.

"Yeah, I missed you too much and there wasn't much going on. If there's any thing they need my help with they'll simply call me in."

Pecking his chest as acknowledgment, you turn to the island, blushing in embarrassment at the multiple bags on the smooth surface.

"Sho, how many times do I need to tell you that you don't need to keep buying me things?" You sigh, smiling as the hero pecked the back of your ear to help you cool off.

"And how many times do I need to tell you that I know I don't 'need' to, but I can, and want to spoil my queen."

"Sho you're too good for this world." You huff, blushing at Shoto's bold honesty.

"I belive that is you, my love."

"Okay okay- what did you get this time?" You sigh, peering at the bags curiously.

"You have to wait for this one," Sho mused, picking out a small black bag from the bunch, maneuvering it so you wouldn't see the brand name.

"Ah c'mon Sh-"

"and this one is for dinner-" Sho continued, shushing you with a quick peck to the lips, setting the grocery bag aside.

" and the rest is for you to enjoy at your leisure." Shoto smiled, causing you to blush.

Smiling, you look through the remaining four bags, smile widening at the sentimental gifts Shoto had gotten you.

One bag was full of books and movies you were dying to read/watch, and another one was full of bags of sweets you enjoyed from the gas station near your house -which means he most likely grabbed them on a whim, barely putting a thought into spoiling you as he remembered all of your favorites and which one you liked the most.

The other two were full of some of your favorite hobbies, and things you were meaning to get. Needed a new pair of earphones for long hours of patrol? Sho got the new model, making sure to get your favorite color. Oh- did you want a pair of fuzzy socks for the upcoming winter? Shoto got you just that, spending extra money to make them just right for you. The list went on and on, causing you to both feel giddy and annoyed.

"Shoto, you can't just spoil me. You need to be spoiled too, and all of your money is going into this isn't it?" Giving Sho a look to stop him from interrupting, you continued, "but, I really do appreciate this. You're too sweet for this world, Sho."

Shoto just smiled at you, eyes holding a certain spark that made you giddy.

And that alone stopped you from telling him to stop.

Because he truly enjoyed spoiling you, and you won't be that one to dampen that light, you'll be the one to continue to let it grow.

Plus you started spoiling him too- and now it's basically part of your routine

Series' masterlist | Shoto's masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Tips <3

Reblogs help spread and support my work, and therefore help me out a ton, but any support is appreciated <33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

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merakiui · 5 months

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Mera Mera Mera! Thoughts on twst boys if you tell them "no more sex" after an argument. Pretty please! 🥺🙏 💙 (You characterize them so well, I'm certain you can bless us with knowledge)

>:D I may have a few thoughts on the reactions!!! I shall bless you with said thoughts (i.e. twst cast being petty and silly).

Riddle - he's perfectly silent when he tears out the page in his life planner titled "dick appointments" and rips it in half in front of you. "Would you look at that? It appears my schedule's become open." He proceeds to fill the time slots with academics and club activities. Your "no more sex" rule goes both ways, but if you find yourself unable to bear it he might consider penciling you into his schedule. ...if it ever frees up, that is. :)

Trey - "Yeaaah, I had that coming," he admits with a sheepish chuckle. Trey very rarely argues with you. Ever. So maybe it was one-sided, but he still goes along with it to keep you happy and to end the argument as quickly as possible. He'll smooth things over by baking you your favorite sweet. He can be patient and wait if you're still stubbornly insisting on no more sex, but that doesn't mean he won't tease you often.

Cater - "Cowabummer." Yes, that's all he says. Yes, he gives you the sad thumbs-down and everything. Cater cannot be /srs for this one because if he's /srs you'll see the /srs sides of him that he'd rather hide behind a /j personality. (He later makes it up to you by apologizing and taking you into town to your favorite places. <3 you end up fucking in the changing stall in one of the clothing stores hehe.)

Ace - he rolls his eyes and laughs. "I never even wanted to fuck you anyways. You're, like, super mid." (He's lying. Please don't ban him from having sex with you. </3 This is how he's apologizing later.

Deuce - he's genuinely devastated. Nooo, what do you mean "no more sex"? D: that's not even the worst of it, though. Deuce is just sad that the both of you argued and that he said some things he's not very proud of. He was really mean and so were you. What were you even arguing about in the first place? Deuce's heart aches knowing you're so upset at him, so he does everything he can to make it up to you. It's fine if you don't want sex anymore; he just wants you to be happy.

Leona - he highly doubts you're serious. "Sure, okay. We'll see about that one," he tells you with a lazy half-smirk. "Good luck with that, herbivore." (he's so hot when you wake up next to him in the mornings and he has that rough morning voice...... you end up fucking the following day, too weak to his charms to keep up with your no sex promise. Leona teases you for that.)

Ruggie - "I'll live," he says with a shrug. Sure, it sucks that you no longer want to fuck and it also sucks that the two of you even argued in the first place, but he'll live. You and Ruggie are distant for all of one day before coming back together to sincerely apologize. He's a little awkward with his apology, but it does indeed come from the heart. Perhaps there's some makeup sex that follows...

Jack - another one who is more upset over the actual argument than your admission of no more sex. Jack feels so bad. :( his ears are flattened on his head and his tail is drooped; he's just so sad that he argued with you and made you angry. He was out of line and shouldn't have let his emotions get the best of him. If no more sex is what you truly want, he'll abide by that.

Azul - "Angelfish, I understand you're upset, but do you truly mean that?" You do, and you storm out of his VIP room and ghost him for the rest of the day. Azul goes through the five stages of grief within the span of a few hours. T_T he's a wreck, not only because you said no more sex but because you argued and you're angry with him and you probably hate him now and what if you break up and you never want to see him again and and and and and !!!!!!!! Sad tako hours.

Jade - he smiles patiently. "If you say so." (his compliance is too obedient; don't let him fool you. He's going to spike your drink with an aphrodisiac and then when you come to him begging for release he'll deny you in the same way you denied him.)

Floyd - "Shrimpy, c'mon, ya can't be serious." You turn away from him with a huff, arms folded over your chest. "S'not funny, Shrimpy..." He pouts at you, brows knitted in annoyance. You look him dead in the eyes and snap back with, "Good. Cuz I'm not joking, Floyd." (Floyd's in a foul mood for the rest of the day; no one dares go near him. His aura is too threatening...)

Kalim - if it's your first argument with him, he's genuinely compelled to throw a party celebrating it LOL. Kalim means well with it, too, which makes it arguably worse. ^^;;; but he is indeed very sad that things got to this point and that you were so angry with him that you even said no more sex! He sulks sadly. :( will a parade make you feel better? Or do you want more renovations done to Ramshackle? Do you want gemstones? Just tell him how he can make it up to you and he'll do it! He's so very sorry! >_<

Jamil - he rolls his eyes, shooting you an unamused look. "Very mature of you, (Name)." Jamil isn't going to entertain the argument anymore. If you want to talk things over, you can do that after you and he have cooled off. Although if he's truly intent on getting your forgiveness and nullifying your no sex rule right away, a little hypnosis might do the trick...

Vil - he gives you a critical look. "What does sex have anything to do with this?" If you're going to argue with Vil, argue about the subject matter and don't bring unrelated topics into it! >:( arguments with Vil always make you feel so bad because essentially he tells you to do better and think about your conduct. Of course he also reflects on how he acted and what even led up to the argument in the first place. Even his apology, though heartfelt and authentic, is so perfect.

Rook - "Mon amour, lovely trickster whom I adore most, oh, how you wound me!" He's so dramatic about it, but then he also wholeheartedly means it when he says and acts like that. "Shall we share a kiss of forgiveness and allow water to flow freely under the bridge once more?" He is truly sorry, but then he's sneaky when he's slipping his tongue into your mouth as if he's trying to drag your apology out of your throat and taste it in his mouth.

Epel - "Consarn it!" He's huffy, glaring at you with his cheeks puffed out. "If yer gonna throw a hissy fit and say no more in-out, in-out, then don't come crawlin' to me when yer feelin' it!" Of course he then storms off and is promptly scolded by Vil for such atrocious behavior. Epel realizes he was wrong for getting so worked up and he'll later apologize to you. You apologize as well, but for the rest of the week there will be no more sex. Epel thinks that's fair. He sort of deserved that one. T_T

Idia - "Wutever. I don't need 3D to be happy." He rolls his eyes and the argument ends there. (Idia later spends an entire week locked away in his room building a (Name) sex doll to make up for the lack of your touch.)

Malleus - poor Hornton... :( he sulks in the darkness of his room and no one knows the reason for why he's so upset. Sebek is distraught; whoever dared to put waka-sama in this sad mood will pay!!!!!! Telling Malleus no more sex makes him think you don't want him anymore and that you essentially are breaking up (which is not the case). Diasomnia feels the gloomy atmosphere for days to come. It's Lilia who finally manages to convince Malleus to come out of his room and go to you for a chat to resolve things.

Lilia - "Oh dear. That's rather unfortunate." Even though he says this, he doesn't seem very affected or surprised or even remotely upset. But then Lilia's been through countless arguments, some far more severe than the one he just had with you, so he knows how to navigate these sorts of things. He's very mature about it and respects your no more sex rule. In fact, he's going to keep track of how many days you go with no sex before you inevitably forgo this rule for sloppy, heartfelt makeup sex with him, which he'll gladly indulge in.

Silver - it's probably impossible to argue with Silver. He's just so sweet. How could you ever get into any sort of argument with him? But if you did find yourself at a disagreement, he'd do whatever he could to resolve it and make you feel better. If no more sex is what makes you happy, then there will be no more sex.

Sebek - "SO BE IT, HUMAN. I DO NOT REQUIRE YOUR TOUCH OR INTIMACY TO SURVIVE, NOR DO I WANT IT." He's so LOUD. The entire hall ends up learning more than they'd ever want to about your and Sebek's argument. ;;;; he rants about you and your audacity to Silver (who's half-asleep), and so it's obvious he's affected. Sebek refuses to apologize because he's stubborn, but he realizes he misses you quite a lot. :( no one point that out, though, or else he'll yell at them that that's not true whatsoever!!!!

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw

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lou-struck · 2 years

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Not me thinking about… Katsuki Bakugou’s alarm goes off at the ungodly hour of 3:15 in the morning. It’s not the alarm that wakes him though, it’s the way you groan and shift next to him stretching your arm out to try and turn the alarm off hitting him in the face.

He wishes he was tired enough to tease you about it with a playful grumble. But all he can to is grab your wrist and gently kiss it as his crimson eyes blink away his grogginess.

“Hey,” he rasps out “We gotta get up Baby, we have a flight to get to.”

He pulls away from the warmth of you in the sheets reluctantly to hop into a cold shower knowing that he is the one who is awake enough to take the wheel. He lets the cold water activate his senses as he thinks of the way your half conscious face presses into the drool covered sheets.

He's efficient when it comes to getting himself ready for whatever the day has to offer, The Suitcases have been packed and placed in his car hours before, a morning snack is in the fridge, and anything else the two of you need for the morning is laid out, folded and prepped.

This comes in handy when his other half is little less ready to start the day, even if starting the day means that the two of you are about to go off on the trip of a lifetime.

"You gotta get up" he says firmly. ripping the last sheet from your body causing you to finally blink awake. Getting to your feet, you mumble some gibberish good mornings with a dopey grin that just melts his heart. With you getting out of the house is a breeze for the Explosion Hero. It only takes a few minutes for the two of you to get settled in the car and start down the road. Tired eyes scanning the street for any coffee house that is open this early in the morning.

With everything closed his foot felt a bit more like led on the gas pedal. You are at the Airport three minutes earlier than the navigation said you would be. He hands his keys to the parking attendant and pulls you and the suitcases to the security check in. Once in line you whine at the lack of coffee in your system.

He lets out a soft laugh and looks around at the hundreds of other people in the Security line who are too tired to realize that they are right next to one of the country's top pro heroes right under their noses.

"Once we're through security, I promise I'll get ya some caffeine." he says, kissing your forehead as you lean into his chest as the line moves along one person at a time.

#bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bakugo katuski #bakugou imagine #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #katsuku bakugo #bakugou drabble #katsuki drabble

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yandere-kokeshi · 9 months

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Platonic Headcanons About Yan! Sanemi, Yan! Gyomei, Yan! Tengen and Yan! Rengoku About The S/O who is their Little Brother Calls Them Father.

How would they react to S/o Jumping to Give them a Hug and Tell. " Wow Dad! You're So Strong You Could Carry Me Your Arms Are So Strong!

Warnings: yandere behavior and platonic behavior; is not romantic!

A/N: this is such a cute idea 😩. Tysm for sending this in <3

Gyomei Himejima:

An immediate blush, then crying. He's so comforted by your words, especially by being his only last relative.

"Thank you so much, I don't deserve your kindness. You're too sweet for me."

It'll take a while for his tears to stop falling, but once he does quit being a crybaby, Gyomei is very taken back by your words, especially using the word 'Dad'.

From now on, you can have as many piggyback, handholding, and any type of picking-up motion by this giant.

For the next few days, he's spoiling you more: letting you buy all types of things, surprising you with items he necessarily wouldn't buy without help, or letting you come along with his training activities.

He secretly hopes that you'll call his 'dad' or some type of name. It makes me smile really big thinking about it.

Tengen Uzui:

He's taken back, staring at you like you said the weirdest thing ever. Though, within a second, you're thrown into his giant arms and squished to death by not only his muscles but his loud praises and yelling.

"Why of course! They're just for you! I'll pick you up whenever you want!"

And he takes that literally. Sometimes, you'll be walking around the house doing chores and all the sudden, he's whisking you off your feet because he 'heard you needed help'.

He's definitely bragging it to the other Hashiras; rubbing their face and considering himself to be the 'best father'.

With you using 'dad', he's expecting you to call him that at all times. And when you don't, Uzui gets pouty and whiny; asking if he did something to upset you.

You're already spoiled by him, but now? You're spoiled rotten. You can ask anything, even a golden bar or a pet snake – he'll make sure he gets it to you for being the world's best kiddo.

Kyojuro Rengoku:

Much like Uzui, he's taken back. But immediately smiling, his loud and confident attitude returning as his smile is real.

"I'm glad you see me as a dad! I'm more than happy to carry you whenever! Let's take a trip to get food, yes?"

Considering your home life and your shared father, he's really happy you see him as a father figure – especially infatuated with how strong he is.

He pinky promises you that no matter what time of the day, if you wanna be picked up, he'll make sure to hoist you up onto his shoulders.

Deciding if you wanna continue calling him father, he really doesn't mind it. He actually preferes it, but if you don't feel comfortable, he won't pressure you.

Another one to brag to everyone. Definitely runs up to Shinobu and Mitsuri, explaining the situation and laughing when they both smile in awe.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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winterrrnight · 9 months

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french open

PAIRING: drew starkey x fem!tennis player!reader

FACE CLAIM: iga swiatek

SUMMARY: an instagram blurb about drew being ecstatic about his girlfriend winning the french open

WARNINGS: n/a

EDITH SPEAKS: I've played tennis for a big part of my life so this definitely is a bit personal, I hope you all like it!! I haven't been able to work on my bigger fics atm so here's a little instagram au to keep my blog active :)

I made up all the instagram users, so if by any chance I have your instagram user used here, I'm so sorry I promise it was a total coincidence!

please like and reblog if you enjoy this! feedback is always appreciated 🪐

navigation || join my taglist || requests

liked by drewstarkey, jonathandavissofficial and 1,584,684 others

yourinstagram second week starts tomorrow. let's enjoy it ❤️

user81 sooo proud of you y/n! you've come so far

drewstarkey you're doing so well 🤍

-> yourinstagram thank you baby 💗

-> drewfan25 he's fr her biggest supporter 🥹🥹

-> rafes_starkey he is!! word is he's in france and most probably will be there at her next match

liked by rafe_is_hot, drewfilms_ and 56,834 others

drewstarkeyupdates drew with a fan outside the roland garros stadium today!

tagged: drewstarkey

rafes_starkey ITS Y/N'S SEMI FINAL TODAY AND HE'S HERE FOR HER OMG 🥹🥹

drewiseverything there's no bigger fan of y/n than drew

user45 he looks so good omg

liked by y/nfan31, drewhive and 458,421 others

ynupdates y/n will be playing in the finals of french open next week!! so proud of her 🥳💐

tagged: yourinstagram

y/nfan20 OH MY GOODNESS 🥹🥹

drewsify did y'all see drew in the crowd cheering her on?? it was sooo sweet

-> rafe_is_hot they're couple goals

user67 she's doing so well ❤️

liked by ynisamazing, drewfan56 and 89,282 others

drewstarkeyupdates drew via ig stories!

tagged: drewstarkey, yourinstagram

ynfan21 OH MY GOD 😭😭

rafezcameron I'll just go sob in a corner 😃👍

drew_clouds y/n played so well I was on the edge of my seat watching the match

liked by yourinstagram, drewstarkey and 4,683,760 others

playerstribune y/n y/l/n is the winner of the french open 2023, ranking her no. 1 in the world in singles by the women's tennis association (WTA)!

yourinstagram the most surreal moment of my life 🌟

-> ynfan21 Y/N WE'RE SO PROUD OF YOU!!!

-> ynisamazing OUR GIRL DID IT 😭😭😭😭

user80 no one deserves it more than her!! she's come so far, and she's worked so hard

liked by drewstarkey, madelyncline and 5,483,684 others

yourinstagram I still can't wrap my head around this, and I wanted to take a moment to thank you all for being there for me throughout this entire journey. these last few weeks were so exciting and frustrating at the same time, but your support and energy got me through every single day. keep daring, keep dreaming and keep working hard ✨🤍

drewstarkey my girl I am so so so proud of you!!! ❤️

-> yourinstagram I love you so much drew thank you 🤍

brooke_starkey we love you y/n you're a star! <3

-> yourinstagram sweetie you're so lovely 🥹

fionapalomo OH MY GOD!! darling you're such a big role model for all the girls out there who aspire to be big atheletes! they're all going to look up to you and remember you always 🤍🤍

-> yourinstagram oh darling this is so sweet of you to say thank you!! 💗💗🥹🥹

liked by hichasestokes, yourinstagram and 3,302,652 others

drewstarkey my girl did it!! I cannot be more proud of her. my darling, I look up to you every single day, there's no one I've ever known who's as inspiring as you. I've seen you train for this exact moment for years, and I know there's no one who deserves it more than you do. all the blood, sweat and tears you shed so you could hold this trophy are worth it all, because this trophy looks like it's made for you. it's meant to be held by you. I love you so much, cheers to so many more achievements like this 🏆🥂

yourinstagram my love, thank you so much. You've been there for me all the days when I thought this is way too far out of my reach, when it felt like I'm worth nothing, when all efforts looked like they were going to waste. You held me and comforted me, reminding me of my abilities. and today, there's no one with whom I want to cherish this moment more. This trophy is yours as much as it is mine 💛

-> drewstarkey you're my everything ❤️

rudeth y/n we're so so proud of you!!! ⚡

-> yourinstagram thank you rudy! 🤍

drewfan87 THIS IS SO SWEET I'LL ACTUALLY-

starkeyboyz I present to you drew starkey, the best hype man one could ever have

ynfan46 y/n created history 🫶🏻

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fic #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey instagram au #instagram au #drew starkey ig au #written by edith! 🪄

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familyvideostevie · 2 years

Text

match made in heaven

steve loves to celebrate the little things with you, even if it's just new shoes | 1.2k, fluff, fem!reader, this is so silly but so is steve, appearances from most of the crew! <3

"I'll see you later this week, okay?" Nancy calls as you get out of her car. "Tell everyone I say hello."

"Thanks for the day, Nance." She waves at you and pulls out of the mostly deserted Family Video parking lot -- you spot three bikes, a skateboard strapped to one with bungee chords. The sun has just set, what was a hot Indiana day cooling to a sweet summer night. You're feeling light and happy after a fun day out with your friend, and the evening promises to be more of the same. You get to go home with Steve. The thought, though routine by now, still makes you giddy.

You hitch your bag over your shoulder and open the door to Family Video and familiar bickering of your favorite teenagers fills the air. Max and Mike seem to be arguing over which Halloween movie they should get in one corner of the store, while Dustin and Lucas are throwing Milk Duds into each other's mouths over the romantic comedy stacks. They glance your way and let out a chorus of "hellos" before returning to their activities.

"Oh, thank god," says Robin from the front desk. "A responsible person."

"Hi, Robin," you laugh. "How long have they been here?"

"Half an hour! I think. Feels like years though." She looks a little frazzled but happy to see you. "Hey, don't drop any of those! Keith will make Steve hunt any mice we get," she yells at Dustin. You wince a little at her volume. "Sorry," she says. "How was your day with Nancy?"

"She says hi," you reply, swinging your bag onto the counter before leaning back to survey the store.

"Hi back," Robin interrupts, picking at her cuticles. "Why didn't she come in?"

"Had to get home to call Jonathan." Robin hums in acknowledgment. "Anyway," you continue, "the trip was good. We went to the mall up north and I actually got something I'm really excited abou--"

"Is that my girl?" calls Steve. He's emerged from the back room, and you turn towards his voice, finding his eyes bright and searching for you.

"Hi, Steve," you laugh. Robin rolls her eyes but is smiling. Your boyfriend's happiness seems to be infectious.

"Oh, now you come out to help," she says. "He's been talking about you all day, wondering what you and Nancy were up to." He shrugs at her teasing and jogs the last few steps around the counter to give you a smacking kiss, fingers curling into your belt loops to tug you closer.

"Hi, baby," he says quietly.

"Hi, yourself." You hear a gagging sound and turn around to see Mike pantomiming being sick, Max with her hands on her hips next to him, eyebrows raised at his antics. "Like you and El don't do the same thing," she reminds him.

"What're you guys doing here?" you ask. Usually they'd be soaking in the fading sunlight and making mischief somewhere. "Are El and Will already in town?"

"They come this weekend, so we're stocking up," says Dustin. He and Lucas have wandered over now that Steve's arrived, but the Milk Duds have mysteriously disappeared.

Lucas zeroes in on you. "Hey, I like your --"

"New shoes?!" Steve cries. You flush a little, pleased with yourself for changing into them, your sandals in your bag. That was the purpose of today's outing with Nancy after all, to finally get the new sneakers you'd been saving up for. You'd told Steve about them weeks ago but are happy he's noticed. He grabs your hands and encourages you to show them off a little, flicking your heel back and forth on the carpet. Robin whistles and Dustin even claps.

"These are the ones you saved up for, right?" Steve says, eyes twinkling. You nod. "We kinda match, babe." He puts his own shoe next to yours, the red swoosh lining up with the light blue swoosh on yours, though yours are much brighter, shiny with newness. "Do you like them?"

"Of course she likes them, Steve," says Dustin, exasperated. "She bought them, didn't she? I bet they weren't cheap, either." Steve shoots Dustin a glare but you laugh.

"I knew we'd kind of match, but it's just because we have good taste. Plus, mine are cooler." Yours are white, like Steve's, but they've got blue and green coloring on the heels as well as the light blue swoosh logo. Robin snickers and hops onto the counter, swinging around so her legs are dangling next to you.

"I have to get you to buy boots next so we can match." She kicks her black lace-ups with glee.

"Any more pairs of shoes and they'll take over our bedroom," Steve grumbles, but he's smiling. You're kind of surprised at how excited he is. They're just shoes, after all, but Steve has always been like this. Ready to support you, to encourage you, to love you. About everything from moving in together to buying new shoes. It's a nice feeling, a warm one, to see him full of joy after he's seen so much darkness.

"Can you skate in those?" Max asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. You realize you've been staring at Steve, and he's smirking at you.

"Next time we practice, I'll wear them to test them out," you say, ignoring the blush you feel on your face. She nods at you, pleased. Her approval sparks a flurry of comments from the boys, and all the attention has you curling into Steve's chest.

"Alright, children," shouts Steve, "check out your shit so we can go home."

"You just want to go be gross, or whatever," says Mike, but he obeys and brings the movie he's holding -- Halloween II, looks like -- to the counter. Robin hops down to check him out.

"That's exactly what I want to do," says Steve, brown eyes back on you. He winks. He corrals the teens out in a chorus of goodbyes and promises to stick together as they bike home before flipping the sign to CLOSED. When Robin ducks in the back to grab her stuff before Steve drives her home, he pulls you in for a hug, chin resting against your temple.. You wrap your arms around his him, taking a deep breath. He smells like...Steve. Like everything good in the world.

"I really do love your sneakers," he says, quietly, swaying you a little bit. "Proud of you for saving up and going for it. Don't know if they're cooler than mine thought."

"They're just sneakers, Steve," you chide. "It's kinda weird to be so excited about them."

"I'm excited about you," he corrects, pulling back from your hug to look at you. "I'm always excited about you. And for you." You scrunch your nose at his sweetness and he gives it a kiss.

"I guess it's just the small things," you wonder out loud. "The small things that are really the best things. When you're in love." He nods, agreeing with you. After so many big things, his favorite moments are ones just like this, with you. His hand comes up to tuck your hair behind your ear and you sneak a kiss onto his palm.

"I love you," he says, "small things, big things, all things."

"Jesus, you guys are so sweet I need to go to the dentist," groans Robin, flicking the store lights off for good measure. "Can we go now?"

Steve blows a raspberry at her. "Yeah," you laugh, "Let's go home."

want to be added to my tag list for full-length (non-ask) fics? send me a message and specify for steve, eddie, or both! reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x you #steeb #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x y/n #dont forget to reblog if you like! <3 #and send me requests #please

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 2 months

Text

Tess' Sharpuary - 28. Smirk (*)

Aesop finds his sweetheart made a little list about himm. About the various way he smirks at her, that is.

a/n: I *may* have cheated slightly with this one, as the list has existed for a few months at this point, but it is what it is 😅Also, the dressing table is my little nod towads the ruling queen of drawing backgrounds and victorian furniture in general, Cress ❤

chapter specific tags: 15+!, established relationship, sexual themes

relationships: aesop sharp x reader

28. Smirk (0.9k)

tw: sexual themes (mentioned heavily), age difference (reader is an adult)

In Aesop’s defence, the first thing on his mind as he approached his sweetheart’s open diary was to close it and put it back into one of the drawers of her dressing table where she usually kept it. It was not like the two of them kept any secrets from each other (apart from little romantic surprises and presents, of course), but reading a partner’s personal diary without their explicit consent was still a massive breach of privacy in Aesop’s opinion.

And yet, when he finally reached the open journal, he paused. He didn’t mean to peek, but found himself rather unable not to read on when he caught a glimpse of the title of her apparently most recent entry.

‘List of Aesop Sharp’s Smirks’

Under the title was indeed a list of ten points. The potions master’s hand twitched, but wouldn’t move to close the diary. His eyes read the first few points:

We're going to have ourselves a good night.

Come have some fun into my chambers.

He couldn’t stop his lips from forming into a small grin. He couldn’t deny it - he was growing very interested in the rest of the list. Maybe he could chance reading it quickly. It was innocent enough, a little list his sweetheart made for fun. He could beg for forgiveness later.

3. How would you feel about some less-than-innocent activity

4. I'm going to make your toes curl tonight.

Oh, alright! Now we’re getting to the more fun ones. He wondered whether he truly had ten ways of smirking at her when it came to the promise of a passion filled night (or day), and if so, how was she able to determine the meaning? He could admit that there was a way he smirked at her when he was in the mood for a more carnal kind of fun, but he had no idea his smirks had a scale!

5. You're going to moan my name like a prayer.

6. My back will bear the perfect imprints of your nails.

He bit his lower lip. He wouldn’t mind feeling the sting of her fingernails on his back again soon. Feeling them there, under his shirt, following his movements as he went about his day served as a sweet reminder, one that made a feeling of thrill course through his veins, even as he did completely mundane things, like hand out pop-quizzes. His back already bore small scars shaped like small crescent moons, and they were his pride and joy. Maybe he could try to replicate smirk number 6, soon...

7. You'll later be embarrassed from just how wanton your screams were.

8. You'll beg me to destroy you.

Wouldn’t be the first. With a smile, Aesop remembered the various nights during which she did beg him to go harder, faster, deeper, tears rolling out of her eyes. She was so beautiful when she submitted to him completely like this, when she let him manhandle her to his own pleasure, arching against him, clinging onto him for dear life. Of course, even when he did get rougher, he always made sure she reached the peak of her pleasure, preferably several times.

9. You won't be able to speak within the next 24 hours from how much I'll make you scream

Again, not the first. The potions master grinned smugly. Edging, and subsequent overstimulation made his sweetheart release cries that neither of them thought her capable of making. Aesop loved it, though, and he wanted to hear more. Poor darling, she nodded off in exhaustion right after he was finally done with her. Luckily, he always had some potion for a sore throat ready for her in the morning. Among other potions for different sore things. Occasionally for the two of them.

10. You're not leaving the bed for the following two days. Not that you'd be able to.

Hm… Well, he wasn’t aware of this smirk. That is, they did spend a lot of time in bed together, but two days straight? As proud as Aesop was of his stamina, he wasn’t sure he had enough of it for two days. Only one way to find out, he supposed.

“Ace?” came her voice from the door, and the potions master jumped in surprise. Panic filled him as he saw her standing at the door. However, instead of looking mad that he just read an entry in her diary, a small smile played upon her mouth. Nevertheless: “I-... I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop, but…” “It’s alright. There’s nothing secret in there. It’s just a little way to clear my head.”

She walked towards him, and he silently handed her the journal. She chuckled as she realised what her sweetheart just read

“I was just wondering about number 10,” Aesop said carefully, still feeling slightly embarrassed for having been caught red-handed. “Oh, 10 hasn’t happened. Yet,” she said nonchalantly as she stored her diary away into the dressing table. “Any plans to make it happen?” he asked then, a sly smile finally coming back to his face.

She turned towards him, extending her hands for him to hold. He instantly took hold of them and pulled her closer: “Nothing set in stone, but I don’t doubt there will come a time. What else are honeymoons for?” Aesop laughed softly, before pressing a small kiss against her mouth. And then - he smirked.

“Ooh, trying number 5 on me, are we?” she teased, grinning back at him.

“What? This is number 6, loud and clear! I should know, it’s my own mouth!”

“It’s number 5, trust me. This is a scientific list, tested and confirmed, while it is your mouth, it is I who sees it.”

“Oh, just kiss me, you impossible woman.”

---

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed ❤

[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #my art #fanfiction #reader insert #drawing #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #digital art #sharpuary #sharpuary 2024 #aesop sharp fanfiction #hogarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanart #artists on tumblr

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heartnosekid · 3 months

Note

I started making stimboards a while ago, granted I'm not the most frequently active even with a queue, but I greatly enjoy carefully crafting a board, digging up sources for gifs, ... still, I cant stop feeling a bit hurt that I get next to no notes on them. A single board easily takes me 30 minutes to 1 hour, and a recent one got 1 note. That's all. I was so proud of it, and now it feels like it was all in vain, despite the fun it was to assemble. I love seeing you on my dash btw, I love your gifs and boards. But yeah. Did it take you a while too to get a decent amount of notes / followers ? I try my best to use appropriate tags for reach. I dont even do super niche themes. And I tell myself to just keep at it, with enough time and effort I'll have some more followers too. Idk. I was just hoping for some words of encouragement if you can spare some lol

i 100% understand this frustration and i have a few questions for you.

firstly, is there any way you could send me a board of yours so i can see the tags and potentially give some advice about that? it's okay if you would rather not, i understand wanting to maintain anonymity.

secondly, if you did want to send your blog my way, i could potentially reblog some of your stuff and help you gain some traction.

now for some encouragement, i promise your work matters regardless of followers or notes or anything like that. the internet has a sinister way of making us feel as if the only way our work is important, even to ourselves, is if it gets lots of recognition and interactions and clicks. this is wholly false, and a dangerous mindset to get stuck in. (i'm still in it and i hate it. i work so hard to not care about notes but it is so hard, especially when you're raised by a critical voice when it comes to your art.)

i will always encourage you and anyone else to ignore the numbers. i know this is extremely hard to do, especially when you're just starting out and you want to make your work seen and be praised, but i promise it will help build healthy habits in regards to posting your work and not taking the fun or meaning out of it for yourself, because at the end of the day, making art should be for you and satisfy you first and foremost. i made the huge mistake of getting into the numbers game in regards to my work and i regret it every day, quite literally. and yes, it did take a long time for my boards and gifs to start gaining traction. i've had this blog since 2017, i have been making boards since...2019 i think, maybe 2018, and gifs since either late 2019 or 2020, i think, and i didn't start seeing major interactions (1k+ notes) for about two to three years.

if your work is fun and fulfilling to you; if it satisfies your creative nature in a way other things can't, please keep doing it. i promise it is worth it to make the art 100000% self indulgently rather than to rely on attention from others to progress.

much love and support to you, anon. i hope to see some cool stuff from you in the community. <3

#stim #anon #ish talks #advice

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babyjakes · 2 years

Text

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | whumptember 2022

prompt | separation anxiety

pairing | daddy!bucky barnes x little!reader

warnings | sfw daddy!bucky, sOFT!daddy!bucky, if you don't like my taste in children's books it's fine we can fight

word count | 416

an | okay so this is a specially little gift for my sweet friend katiebear (@nony-bear) <3 she loves bucky (and bucky loves her) so i had to make a little something for her!! this will probably be the only bucky piece in whumptember and idk if he'll appear in kinktober, maybe for some sticky shenanigans ;-) enjoy katiebear!!!!!

"Three days, baby bear. Three nights, three mornings. And then, before you know it, Daddy will be back again. Wanda will come pick you up, and you can meet us when we land. I'll be waving at you from the plane, bub." Bucky's kind eyes held a promise within them as they gazed at you lovingly, his cool metal hand warmed by your own flesh fingers as you clung to him.

As the two of you stood in the small entryway to your shared apartment, him crouched down before you to meet your gaze, you could count each heartbeat pounding against your chest, ringing in your ears, throbbing in your throat as you tried to swallow down the tears that had built up in your eyes. You were getting better at the goodbyes, but that didn't mean they were ever easy. "Three days," you said back to him weakly.

"Three days. That's right, lovebug. And when I get home, it's Daddy and baby's long weekend together, remember? Pillow forts and movies and all your favorite snacks, just like I promised."

"A-and we can watch Lilo and Stitch," you hiccupped, frowning as the first tears managed to escape out of your eyes, down your little cheeks. Bucky cooed at you softly, reaching up his flesh hand to wipe away the salty trails.

"Lilo and Stitch, of course, baby bear." Rubbing your cheek gently, he murmured, "And I'm gonna call you every night, remember? Right before bedtime, so you can have your bedtime story. You packed the books you wanted- right, sweetheart?"

"Mhmm," you nodded as you sniffled, rocking back slightly on your heels. "The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Goodnight Moon, and Chicka Chicka Boom Boom."

Smiling a little at your choices, the dark-haired man nodded in approval. "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, you know Daddy loves that one. Think I know all the words, pretty girl. Won't even have to look."

"A-and if I get scared... or something h-happens..."

"You call Daddy right away. Remember? Phone's always on for you, doll. As long as I'm not in active combat, I'll be on the other end of the line before you know it."

Blinking back a few more tears, you whispered your next question so meekly your daddy had to lean in to listen. "E-even if I just miss you?"

Face softening, Bucky tucked your hair back behind your ear as he nodded. "Even if you just miss me, bub. And I know I'm gonna miss you. So very much."

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thehusbandoden · 8 months

Text

You Flinch During an Argument -Shinso Hitoshi

A/n: meow <3

Oh wait I think this is actually my first finished thing for Shinso. Am I doing him right?? Idk T^T

General info:

Genre: angst to fluff/comfort // Wc: 1,594 // second person

Warnings!: arguing, accidentally breaking a promise, flinching, and a little bit of crying.

Horror ate away at Shinso's conscience as he looked down at you in shock.

You, his beloved y/n who stuck with him through these difficult seven months of a new relationship. His one and only supporter, his first love, his best friend, and his partner.

He had promised you that he would never use his quirk on you unless it was related to training.

He promised, and he belived it too. He knew that he would never take control of your goregous mind.

And so why? Why did he let himself be so weak. So.. so out of control?

It was all a blur. He hadn't even realized that he activated his quirk that he despised so much. One second you were shouting at one another, and the next you were completely still, eyes holding no sign of their usual spark. That spark that was always present, the spark that he grew to adore.

He continued to yell though, not yet noticing that you weren't yourself.

"Why can't you tell that I did nothing! She grabbed my arm and I ignored her! I walked away without sparing her a glance- y/n she means nothing! You're the only one that I could ever possibly be interested in! So why are you being so stubborn!? Just- just stop!"

At his command you simply dropped the arms that were folded against your chest, going completely still.

That was when he realized that you weren't in your right mind- that it seemed like you were being controlled.

The realization broke his heart as he deactivated his quirk, causing your eyes to suddenly pop back to life.

Your face was contorted in confusion for a few moments before you slowly looked up at him in shock.

"Y-y/n I-I can explain." Shinso's voice was wobbly as he looked down at you, eyes wide in unbelieve, voice full of emotion. You've never seen him this shaken before, and to be honest it scared you. What.. happened?

"D-did you just control me? Hitoshi you better answer truthfully."

"I-I did but- please it was an accident- I- I swear-"

"Hitoshi.. you promised me you wouldn't. What happened?" You asked, tears in your eyes as your hands started to shake.

"I-I know baby I know but please it was an accident- I- I noticed when you stopped when I told you to-"

"How long did you control me Hitoshi?"

"Less then a minute- please y/n I didn't mean to!"

"But yet you still did. I- I can't look at you right now. I.. need some time."

"Y-y-y/n.." Shinso whispered, tears pooling at the edge of his eyes.

"Y/n... y/n please- I- I-"

"I-I'm just going to go.. I'll.. see you some other time."

"Y/n wait!"

"What is it.. Shinso?"

"I-I am so, so sorry. I'll understand if you're going to- to leave me."

"No, Sh- Hitoshi. I'm not going to leave you. I Just need some time to sort this out, okay? I'll text you when I get to my dorm, but other than that please don't contact me."

"O-okay.. I-I love you.."

"I- I love you too.."

Three weeks later and you were still dreading talking to Shinso. You've texted him every few days to let him know that you were doing okay and you simply needed more time. He was understanding each time, and that calmed you down quite a bit.

You knew that you wouldn't be able to leave him. You've loved the boy for years. You fell in love with himin elementary school, admiring his quick wit and braveness fending off bully after bully. You admired him, you really did.

The two of you quickly became friends, and your love for him grew each day. You eventually worked up the courage to confess in your first grade of high school. He seemed hesitant, but he accepted your brunch date. After three dates in quick session he was the one to ask for the two of you to advance, which you accepted.

Less than a month in he confessed his love and you reciprocated his feelings. Five more months into your relationship and everything seemed so perfect. That is until girls started flocking him.

It made sense, he had recently gotten into the hero course and had outstanding looks. You would've been fine with it- but he didn't seem to mind.. at all. He wouldn't tell them to back off, or even tell them he was taken. He simply.. ignored them. It made you uncomfortable and you tried to reasonable about it, but he just wouldn't listen.

After a month of this back and forth you refused to be brushed off again and it ended up being both your first argument as a couple, and will probably be the worst one in at least a year or so.

You believed him when he said that he didn't mean to activate his quirk, but it still hurt. And you couldn't shake it off. You knew that you would forgive him, and this endless silence was breaking him, but you just needed more time. But you also knew that you couldn't wait much later or Shinso would be broken for at least a few months. And so, you scheduled a meet up. In three days, you texted Shinso to meet you in your favorite park to talk. He willingly agreed, and now you simply have to collect your thoughts.

~~Three days later~~

You took a deep breath as you looked yourself over in the mirror.

You were dressed casually, plain blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket.

Looking over yourself worriedly, you smiled as you remember you complaining about this exact outfit to Shinso and how he told you that you looked nice. He hugged you from behind, gazing into your eyes lovingly before complimenting everything he loved about your outfit, accompanying each sentence with a kiss to your head, temple, forehead, cheeks, and then your nose.

He gazed into your eyes, taking your hand before telling you that you were gorgeous, and that he could never dream of anyone more perfect than you.

Smiling sadly, you hurry to grab your phone and wallet before heading out of your dorm, greeting your classmates as they smiled and waved at you.

Stepping outside, you hurry to the park, wanting to get there before Shinso does. Humming, you smiled at your favorite play list you were listening to, deciding that some of your favorite music would help calm your nerves and help you think clearer.

A few minutes later you arrived at the park, smirking as you realized Shinso wasn't there yet.

Ever since you discovered the park in the beginning of your highschool year the two of you started a tradition, if you could call it that. You never discussed it, but you had always rushed to see who could get to the park first, and Shinso usually won. He hardly cared about how he looked and didn't mind losing out on sleep to see you pout so cutely.

It was actually quite endearing, though you would never admit it out loud.

Sitting on your favorite bench under a large Oak tree, you pull out your phone to text Shinso, gently teasing him for being second this time. As you were about to hit send, you jumped as you felt a cold hand embrace your cheek. Looking at the hand, you scoffed as you saw Shinso holding your cheek gently, smiling teasingly at you.

"Got you.. again." Shinso murmured, causing you to blow a strand of hair out of your face huffingly.

"Yeah yeah, whatever." You pout, causing the boy in front of you to chuckle.

"So.. you're ready to talk?" Shinso prompted, sitting across from you, now nervous and unsure.

"Yeah... Listen Hitoshi, I know you didn't mean to, and I know that you feel really bad about it."

"I do, I really, really do."

"And I know for a fact that I am not gonna leave you for something so silly. I love you, Toshi and I want to hear the apology you've been dying to tell me and forgive you."

"Y/n, my Love, I am so, so sorry. I cannot forgive myself for losing control of my quirk like that, and I promise that I will do everything in my power to never lose control again. I also want to apologize for overlooking your feelings. In my head it was enough to ignore them, but now I realize that that was selfish and wrong, and I want to talk to you, calmly about it, and find a conclusion."

"I forgive you, Toshi. And I'm sorry too. I'd really like it if we could find some middle ground.. but first, we should get some lunch and go on a date, we've harldy seen each other in three weeks after all. Oh, and I love you I really, really do."

"And I love you so much more y/n, so much that it hurts." Shinso murmured, leaning towards you after every word, finishing it off with kissing your lips sweetly.

"I don't think that's possible." You breathe, causing Shinso to chuckle.

"Oh trust me, it is." He finished, pecking your lips once more before standing up, taking your hand to take you out on the best date possible.

Because there is nothing Shinso loved more than you, and he'd continue to prove it until the day he died.

Reblogs help spread and support my work therefore they help me immensely but any support is appreciated <33

Series' masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Tips <3

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

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vivemonroi · 2 months

Text

Ok, it’s just a draft of a translation of the first part of my Charlastor fic (English is my second language). But I think to post it in English, I wrote it like 4 years ago, when the pilot came out. If you notice any mistakes dm me please :3

“The suburb of 'Pentagram-City' could hardly be called serene, rather sparsely inhabited, as most of its denizens preferred to spend their days of indefinite punishment in the city where they could hire a prostitute, grab a drink, or die a gruesome death—anything seemed better than watching the pitiful imitation of local stars. Yet, by a strange twist of fate, right here and now, one could find the daughter of the ruler of the Underworld and one of the most powerful beings of Hell engaged in precisely this mundane activity.

— How did you die?

The question came out awkwardly, unpleasantly slicing through the tranquility of the quiet evening. Charlie shivered, instantly regretting daring to open her mouth and voice it aloud. But Alastor did not flinch, still gazing into the bloody sky of Hell, his lips stretched in a serene smile. Perhaps the demon hadn't heard her? No, considering how meticulously he listened to every word she spoke, that seemed very unlikely.

— You don't have to answer; I understand it's personal…

— I was shot.

His response was brief and to the point, a sharpness uncharacteristic of Alastor that puzzled Charlie even more, but curiosity quickly overcame tact.

— Was it police or…

— Hunters.

— Oh, I see. Sorry.

Coming out of his trance, Alastor looked at her in surprise.

— Why apologize, ma chérie? My demise isn't your fault, and let's be honest, it's not as if I didn't deserve it, though I must admit, I never thought I would die like this. The electric chair, yes, but a bullet? Pathétique! Such a banal method, I would even say barbaric, one shot and that’s it, what about the feelings? Personally, I preferred knives, ah, those emotions: fear, pain, the realization of the end of one's pathetic life…

Toward the end of his sentence, the pleasant French jazz from his inner radio was replaced by crackling and static. Noticing the princess’s slightly frightened look, the demon made a gesture very much like tuning into a radio station, and the melody returned.

— As much as I enjoy discussing my favorite pastime, I see you're uncomfortable. So, let me propose a counter-question, shall we engage in a little ‘quid pro quo’, ma chérie? Why did you ask?'

Charlie hesitated.

— No reason.

Alastor theatrically, almost paternally shook his head in disappointment.

— And this demoness dares teach us redemption! Yet she's not averse to the sin of deceit herself. And after so many sermons! I expected better from you, dear, you wound me deeply.

— It's silly, Al, I don't think you'd understand.

— Ah, but it's up to me to understand you or not, you know. I could have chosen not to answer your question. Asking a sinner how he died? Quelle vulgarité! And coming from the Princess of Hell herself, I think I'll broadcast this; my listeners will be shocked to learn that…

— Alright, alright! I'll tell you, but.. just don't laugh, okay?

— Can’t promise anything.

Charlie sighed; expecting such from him was indeed too much.

— Okay.

She paused for almost a dramatic effect and timidly began:

— You see, I was born here, in Hell, but you... you were born there, in the mortal world. Your main life was there, but... I know nothing but Hell.

She fell silent again for a few seconds, as if bracing herself to utter the next phrase.

She continued:

— I want to see trees, Al, the Sun, the Earth's Sun, animals, the sea with its beaches. I want to dance in the rain, shiver from the cold, languish in the heat! I wish to care for flowers, walk through the city for groceries, help the homeless. Smile at passersby and have them smile back! Greet neighbors, ask for some salt, and share pie recipes. But most of all... most of all, I want to see a rainbow. A real one, after a strong summer storm, when animals and people emerge from their shelters just happy to be alive. I.. I want to live!

On her last words, Charlie's uncertain whisper turned into a shout, and realizing this, she quickly covered her mouth with her hands, blushing with embarrassment. From the city, the drunken songs of bar regulars carried over, occasionally interrupted by the agonized scream of some unfortunate soul, but it seemed no one heard her, or if they did, they frankly didn't care. The audience from the receiver applauded approvingly, Alastor's eyes narrowed slyly.

— Sorry, as I said, it's very silly…

— Not at all, mon trésor, the desire to explore the unknown is perfectly natural for such a curious creature as you. But you're overlooking the fine print: diseases, poverty, wars, miseries, murders, hunger, and I'm not just talking about the physical sensation, lust, debauchery... shall I go on?

Charlie sighed.

— I know, Al, damn it, I grew up in a literal Hell, my whole life is that fine print.

She turned onto her stomach and shyly bit her lip.

— Just... sometimes I feel like I don't belong here...

Alastor laughed, Charlie thought his laughter sounded like radio interference mixed with distorted off-air laughter, but Husk and the other residents of the Hotel disagreed with such a comparison. "It's like dragging a rusty saw across your balls," he would say. Angel, and surprisingly, Vaggie, nodded significantly in agreement. Niffty usually kept quiet, though she admitted her boss's laughter gave her chills.

— Ding-ding-ding, bingo! We have a winner: the charming Princess of Hell who has finally realized the obvious. Honestly, dear, I'm surprised you only realized this now!

— Laugh all you want, Alastor. I shouldn't have started talking about it...

She began to rise from the ground, but Alastor easily grabbed her hand, stopping her.

— Wait, I didn't mean to offend you, at least not this time, really, hold on, no need to create drama out of nothing, please, go on.

Charlie looked at him skeptically, sighed in resignation, and lay back down.

— Don't get me wrong, I know my home is here, my family, my friends... but sometimes, just for a moment, I imagine what it would be like if I were born into a regular family, there. We would live on a farm, raise cows, shear sheep, sow wheat, pick apples. Dad would teach me how to ride a horse, and mom how to sew clothes. I would have a little brother or sister, and a dog! In the evenings, we'd all gather together and listen to music, and on Sundays, go to church...

— Church? I doubt your father would be let in, unless you're talking about the church, ha-ha! Si tu vois ce que je veux dire!

The radio listeners obediently laughed, Charlie shot him a warning glance.

— Oh, you should understand me, my dear, I'm a radio demon, notice 'radio' comes first. It's hard for me not to comment on such a wonderful monologue, especially when you speak with such passion.

A treacherous blush spread over her already red cheeks. She averted her gaze, embarrassed.

— Anyway... you get the idea, but it's just dreams, all I can do is help others reform, to leave this place, even if I never will.

Charlie felt uncomfortable; she hadn't even told Vaggie about this, why did she suddenly decide he would understand? When her heartfelt confessions were not met with an explosion of applause or the demon's own laughter, Charlie finally dared to look his way. To her shock, his face was frighteningly serious, though his eternal smile still lingered on his lips.

— I don't often say this, and it means a lot, but you, Charlie, more than anyone else, deserve a chance to get out of here.

The radio static that usually accompanied Alastor's voice quieted to such an extent that she could hear his soft baritone almost without interference.

Charlie still didn't dare look him in the eyes, the darn blush spreading to her neck, but an uncertain smile appeared on her lips.

— Do you really think so?

Alastor propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her with feigned bewilderment:

— Well, of course! After all, the essence of Hell is to punish sinners. First, you need to have at least a chance to wreak some havoc. If you had ended up here on your own, it would be a different story, but as it is, it's just bo-o-oring.

Even though his words touched that string of her heart, her feelings, which she dared not speak of, even to herself, seeing him almost shyly look away, she decided to leave that topic alone.

They simply lay there for a while, listening to the sensual performance of some early 20th-century French song whose name Charlie didn't know. Each was lost in their thoughts until Alastor sprang to his feet as if scalded.

— Well, I can't promise a rainbow... Get up, Your Majesty!

— Alastor, what are you...

He impatiently extended his hand.

— Hurry up, I might change my mind.

"Here goes nothing," Charlie thought, taking Alastor by the glove. In an instant, they were somewhere else.”

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theetherealbloom · 11 months

Text

NOTRE DAME - CH. 3

Chapter 3: The Undone and The Divine

Summary: In the rafters of Clinton Church, a mysterious reader with the power of illusion manipulation silently watches over Matt Murdock, the blind vigilante known as Daredevil. As danger engulfs Hell's Kitchen, their unlikely friendship blossoms into a bond of trust and longing, intertwining their fates in a battle against darkness that tests their resolve. Will their connection illuminate a path to salvation in a city of darkness or lead them deeper into the abyss?

Paring: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt to Comfort, ANGST, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, Religion, Fluff, Anxiety, PSTD, Nightmares, Catholic Guilt, Amnesia, Violence, Blood, Dark Undertones, Eventual SMUT, Shy Reader, Mentions of Abuse, Criminal Activities, Mobsters/Mafia, Character Death, Slowish Burn, Disassociation,

Word Count: 11.9k

A/N: This was lowkey tough to write with all the technicalities but I managed to push through it lol. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Song: Only If For A Night by Florence + The Machine

Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

dividers @/saradika-graphics

A FEW DAYS LATER…

NEW YORK CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT – MORNING

As you blink, fragments of your past weave their way into your consciousness, like threads of a tapestry unraveling in your mind. Memories unfold, revealing moments of rigorous training, ethereal wisdom, and a mentor whose guidance shaped you into the person you are today.

You remember living in a tranquil sanctuary, surrounded by ancient texts and mystical artifacts. The air hums with energy as you practice intricate movements, honing your skills under the watchful eye of a wise and enigmatic figure. The connection between you is unspoken yet profound, a bond forged through years of shared knowledge and profound teachings.

Visions of battles fought against formidable adversaries dance before your eyes. You wielded powers beyond comprehension, manipulating the very fabric of reality with finesse and precision. In those moments, you were a guardian of balance, a protector of realms unseen.

But the flashbacks recede, vanishing like whispers in the wind. You find yourself in the bustling corridors of the New York City Police Department, surrounded by the everyday realities of life. The voice of Brett Mahoney pulls you back to the present, concern etched on his face. "You good? You seem kinda out of it."

You look up from the paperwork you were filing for a domestic violence case and force a small smile. "Mhm, just a little tired," you respond, trying to shake off the remnants of the past and the previous nights of helping Matt from the sidelines. Mahoney takes a sip of his coffee before continuing, "You know, my mom has been askin’ for you. You aren't giving her cigarettes with those cookies too, are you?"

You snort, the corners of your lips curling with amusement. "Nah, I actually have a secret life as a drug dealer and deliver her cookies laced with crack," you quip, easing the tension in the room. Brett chuckles at your joke as you put down the pen and hand the file to another officer. "Why, what's up?" you ask, genuinely interested. Brett sighs, his voice tinged with weariness. "Could you maybe visit her? I've been pulling a lot of shifts lately, and dealing with reports of some masked vigilante beating up a bunch of criminals has taken up a lot of my time."

You sigh, feigning concern at the news. "New York is something else," you remark. Brett hums in agreement, understanding the chaos of the city all too well. "So, could you do it? Drop by and give her more of those cocaine cookies?" he asks, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

You nod, with your expression sincere. "Sure, I'll stop by in a bit," you promise, knowing that a visit to Brett's mother would bring a sense of joy and connection amidst the chaos of your secret battles.

MAHONEY RESIDENCE – DAY

You give a gentle knock on the door of the Mahoney residence, and a warm smile spreads across your face as it swings open to reveal Bess Mahoney, an elderly woman with a kind expression. "Hi, dear. Come inside," she welcomes you, gesturing for you to enter. Expressing your gratitude, you respond, "Thank you, Bess. I brought some of those cookies you like! Sister Maggie and Sister Catherine helped me bake them."

As you step into the cozy living room, the aroma of freshly baked cookies fills the air, creating an atmosphere of comfort and familiarity. Bess's eyes light up with delight, and she takes your hand in hers. "You're such a sweetheart, always thinking of me," she says, her voice tinged with genuine affection. "Those nuns at the church have been a blessing to this neighborhood."

You nod, a sense of warmth and purpose swelling within you. "They truly are," you reply, feeling grateful for the support and guidance the sisters have provided throughout your journey. "They've taught me so much about compassion and making a difference in people's lives."

As you sit at the kitchen table, the taste of the homemade cookies still lingering on your tongue, a sense of calm settles over you. The weight of the world and the secret battles you face momentarily fade away in the presence of Bess's warm company.

Just as you begin to bask in the comfort of the moment, Bess's voice breaks the tranquility. "I need a favor from you, honey," she says, her tone carrying a hint of concern. Your eyebrows furrow, and you lean in, attentively asking, "Is something wrong?"

Bess waves her hand dismissively. “Not with me, but with a dear friend of mine, Elena Cardenas. She's a lovely woman, and she's facing trouble. You see, she owns a rent-controlled apartment in Hell's Kitchen, but her landlord suddenly wants to evict her.”

Your frown deepens, empathizing with the injustice of the situation. Nodding in understanding, you urge Bess to continue. She smiles and explains, “I suggested she reach out to the new firm in the city, Nelson and Murdock. They have a reputation for being very good at what they do.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and realization. "Oh, yes. I've heard of them. They’re very good.” The memory of your encounter with Matt Murdock resurfaces, the card tucked safely in your pocket. It seems fate has intertwined your paths once again.

Bess's smile grows wider, her eyes gleaming with hope. "Perfect. Honey, I need you to go with Elena Cardenas to their office. She's as old as me, and it would grant me peace of mind knowing she arrives there safely."

You look into Bess's eyes, seeing the genuine concern and trust she places in you. There is no denying the importance of this favor, and deep down, you know you can't refuse. With a resolute expression, you reply, "Of course, Bess. What's her address and phone number? I'll make sure Elena gets to Nelson and Murdock's office."

A forced smile graces your lips, masking any hesitation or trepidation. At this moment, you understand that there is no avoiding this task. It is a chance to help someone in need, to make a difference in their life, and honor the trust Bess has placed in you.

As Bess shares the necessary details, you commit them to memory, knowing that this journey will bring its challenges and revelations. You rise from the table, ready to fulfill your role as a guardian in the shadows, guided by the light of friendship and the pursuit of justice.

With a final nod of assurance to Bess, you bid her farewell, leaving her with the comforting knowledge that Elena Cardenas will be well taken care of. As you step out into the bustling streets of Hell's Kitchen, you carry within you the determination to stand for those who need it most.

NELSON AND MURDOCK ATTORNEY’S AT LAW – DAY

You guide Mrs. Cardenas to the address scribbled on the card provided by Matt. As you approach the designated location, a paper sign catches your attention, proudly displaying the name "Nelson and Murdock Attorney's at Law." It's the place you were directed to, and you offer Mrs. Cardenas a comforting smile before proceeding.

You raise your hand and knock on the door, with it slightly open and already spotting the people inside. “Hi, uhm, I’m looking for Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock.”

As Mrs. Cardenas follows you inside, you can't help but feel a sense of reassurance, knowing that you've brought her to a place where she will be heard and supported. With Karen's presence and the promise of Nelson and Murdock's assistance, you are hopeful that justice will prevail and that Mrs. Cardenas will find the resolution she deserves.

Matt breathes a sigh of relief as he hears you, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You're okay," he states, his worry evident in his tone. You raise an eyebrow in response, a hint of curiosity lacing your words. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Though your response isn't a complete answer, it holds a semblance of truth. Deep down, you understand that recovery takes time, and your body bears the evidence of the journey you've been through. Matt's heightened senses allow him to perceive the subtle clues that reveal your ongoing healing process. The scent of cortisol and antiseptic lingers in the air around you, a testament to the challenges you've faced and the resilience you've shown.

You glance at the man standing beside Matt, presuming him to be his friend and partner, Foggy. He scrutinizes both of you with a curious expression and poses the question, "You two know each other?" Your mind races to come up with a plausible explanation, and you quickly respond, "We go to the same church."

Foggy's gaze shifts between you and Matt, seemingly skeptical of your answer. He turns to Matt, seeking confirmation. Matt simply nods, but it's evident that Foggy isn't fully convinced. He remarks with a hint of sarcasm, "So, is that what they call it now?"

A blush creeps up your cheeks, embarrassed by the implication. Before Matt can intervene, you shake your head, determined to clarify the situation. "No, seriously. I'm also Catholic, and I work at the church. I’m also a social worker at Metro-General."

You hope that this additional information will dispel any misconceptions and assure Foggy of your genuine connection to the church. He needs to understand that your involvement extends beyond deception.

Foggy raises his eyebrows, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "That sounds like a lot of work," he remarks, acknowledging the dedication required for your role. You smile, "Yeah, it can be challenging, but I’ll manage."

Matt, however, senses the underlying tension and the half-truth in your response. His heightened senses enable him to pick up on the subtleties of your emotions. You clear your throat, aware that the truth cannot be concealed from him indefinitely.

"Anyways," you continue, shifting the focus of the conversation, "you said I could come here and ask for your legal services. This is Elena Cardenas." With a nod, you introduce Elena, hoping that the urgency of her situation will capture their attention.

Foggy and Matt guide both of you to their small conference room, offering seats to discuss the pressing matter at hand. As you take your place at the table, the heaviness of the situation settles upon you. You await their guidance and expertise, knowing that their legal services might be the key to helping Mrs. Cardenas in her time of need.

"Bess Mahoney? Brett's mom?" Foggy seeks clarification as you mention Bess referring Elena to them. Elena nods in confirmation. "Sí, she referred me. Dice que le da puros."

Karen, the woman you were introduced to earlier, chuckles. "Something about cigars?" Foggy looks at Karen with surprise. "You know Spanish?" Karen shakes her head. "Oh, just what I remember from high school."

Matt, his expression serious, turns his attention to Mrs. Cardenas. "Mrs. Cardenas, please tell us what happened." Mrs. Cardenas struggles to translate her Spanish into English, doing her best to convey the details. "Mi casa es rent-control. But the landlord, Señor Tully..."

"Armand Tully? Sleaze bag who owns buildings all over town," Foggy interjects, recognizing the name. Mrs. Cardenas nods. "Sí, y Señor Tully..." She switches back to speaking in Spanish, and Karen takes it upon herself to translate. "He wants to convert the apartments into condominiums. And he wants the residents to leave." Mrs. Cardenas continues, "Men came weeks ago. They claimed they were workers. And they destroyed the apartments with a… I don't know that last word.”

"Sledgehammer," Matt utters simultaneously, his voice aligning with your own words. The synchronized response captures the attention of everyone in the room, their focus shifting toward the shared statement. "College," Foggy adds, clarifying the source of his knowledge. As he tilts his head in curiosity, his unsteady gaze falls upon you, silently inquiring about your proficiency in Spanish. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips nervously before you respond, "Um, I learned it when I was young. Sometime around middle school."

"You ever have a client that wants to chat in Punjabi, I'm your man," Foggy says cheerfully, injecting a light-hearted comment into the conversation. You smile in response, appreciating his sense of humor. Karen, on the other hand, looks between you and Matt, slightly uncertain.

"Um... Do you want to do this?" she asks, seeking confirmation from Matt. His voice carries a flirtatious tone as he replies, "No, no. I like listening to your voice." Karen blushes in response, clearly affected by Matt's smooth and charming personality. Foggy sighs, “Go on, Mrs. Cardenas.” And your attention shifts between the three of them.

The world you once cherished loses its luster, fading into a somber tableau. Each breath becomes a shallow rhythm, failing to ground you in the swirling tempest of emotions. Jealousy, heavy as a stone, settles in the pit of your stomach, reminding you of desires that can never be fulfilled.

Hurt and longing intertwine, composing a poignant symphony within your chest. The truth resonates deep within your being: Matt will never be yours. It's a bitter pill to swallow, a gold rush of emotions crashing against the shores of the unrequited.

Yet, during this storm, you find solace in acknowledging your feelings. Envy and sadness are natural companions when faced with the undeniable connection between Matt and Karen, including the nights before with him and Claire. It serves as a stark reminder that your feelings can be elusive, slipping through your grasp like grains of sand.

You've always held a profound love for this world, cherishing its every detail. But now, it feels as though everything is slipping away, slipping beyond your grasp. The sun rises dutifully, even when unasked, illuminating the beauty around you. Most days, you wouldn't think twice about the things that go right in your life.

As the weight of your emotions threatens to consume you, Matt's heightened senses pick up on the shifting energy in the room. He turns his head towards you, his moving gaze piercing through the haze of your disquiet.

"Hey," he calls your name softly, his voice laced with concern, “Are you okay? You went sort of quiet…” Startled, you hastily put on a fake smile, hoping to mask the tumultuous thoughts and feelings that swirl within you. It's a delicate dance, maintaining the facade while grappling with the ache in your heart.

You meet his eyes behind his glasses, your eyes betraying a flicker of vulnerability before you quickly avert your gaze. Deep down, you know he senses something is amiss, but you can't bear to burden him with your inner turmoil. So, you play the part, presenting a semblance of composure despite the storm raging within.

With a subtle nod, you signal your understanding, silently acknowledging his attention and care. It's a fleeting moment, fleeting like the delicate petals of a wilting flower, but you carry on, concealing the depths of your emotions behind a practiced smile, “Mhm. I’m fine, just remembered something, my apologies.”

As Mrs. Cardenas continues to voice her concerns in Spanish, detailing the dire conditions in her building, and the absence of necessities like working sinks and pipes, a sense of despair fills the air. Her words echo with the weight of helplessness, as she recounts the failed attempts to seek assistance.

Karen steps in, fluently translating Mrs. Cardenas' words, revealing the futility of their interactions with the police. "The police couldn't help, they don’t know what to do." Karen conveys, her voice carrying the frustration and disappointment that hangs in the room. Mrs. Cardenas's voice rises with passion as she shares the police's response, emphasizing their inability to address the situation.

Matt's shoulders rise and fall in a deep sigh of frustration, his expression mirroring the collective disappointment in the room. It's a shared recognition of the limitations faced by those in need, the overwhelming bureaucracy that leaves them stranded without a lifeline.

Foggy looks at one of the documents, “This says Tully offered them 10,000 to give up their rent control and vacate the premises. Maybe we can pressure him into giving a better payout.” Karen stands up and reaches for a tissue box behind the two of you and then places it on the table before sitting back down.

Mrs. Cardenas shakes her head, “No, Señor Foggy. We do no want money. We want to stay in our homes.” A glimmer of determination flickers on Matt's face, a silent promise to do what he can to rectify the injustice. Though the challenges ahead may be daunting, he refuses to let the circumstances crush their hope. With unwavering resolve, he leans forward, ready to confront the city's indifference. He begins to converse with Mrs. Cardenas in Spanish, telling her that Foggy will speak to Tully’s lawyer.

As Mrs. Cardenas expresses her gratitude with a heartfelt "Oh, gracias Senor Murdock! Muchas gracias," Matt responds with a simple "Bueno." He stands up, his hands on his hips, signaling the conclusion of the meeting. You rise from your seat alongside Mrs. Cardenas, ready to escort her out.

With the meeting finished, you follow Karen out of the conference room, expressing your gratitude for her assistance and the accommodating nature of their firm. Stepping out onto the city's bustling streets, you bid farewell to Mrs. Cardenas, reminding her to remain cautious on her way home. Your paths diverge, each heading in separate directions, carrying the weight of the day's challenges and hope for a better future.

Lost in your thoughts, you find yourself standing outside the steps of Foggy and Matt's office building, retrieving your phone from your pocket to check your next task. Suddenly, a small object collides with the heel of your shoe, drawing your attention. Matt's voice breaks the silence, apologizing for the accidental encounter.

"Oh, Matt! I'm sorry," you respond, a hint of surprise in your wide eyes. Swiftly, you step aside, allowing him to pass without any further obstruction. The brief interaction lingers in the air, a fleeting moment of shared acknowledgment before resuming your respective paths in the bustling cityscape.

However, Matt's question catches you off guard. "You're still here?" he asks, his curiosity evident. You pause for a moment, considering his words before replying, "Uh, yeah. I'm on my way to the precinct to update Officer Mahoney."

A warm smile spreads across Matt's face as he suggests, "We can go together if you want. I'm heading there as well to look for any complaints against Tully." You blink in surprise at his offer, caught off guard by his genuine willingness to accompany you. Unsure of how to respond, you stumble over your words, "Uh, well..."

Before you can come up with an excuse, Matt's grin widens, sensing your momentary hesitation. "Mind if I hold on to your arm as we walk there?" he asks, his voice filled with a playful charm. Your brain momentarily halts, caught off guard by his request, but you manage to nod and squeak out, "Mhm. Yeah, Sure."

His touch is gentle yet firm as he takes hold of your arm, leading the way through the bustling streets of New York City. Despite knowing that he doesn't need guidance, you play along, maintaining the facade of ignorance about his vigilante activities. Matt's heightened senses remain ever vigilant, attuned to your every heartbeat, breath, and blink. He focuses on your scent and the subtle notes of your perfume, a reminder of the close proximity and unspoken connection between the two of you.

You make a conscious effort to steady your heartbeat, reminding yourself that this is merely a shared journey to fulfill your respective roles. There is no need to stress or overanalyze the situation. However, when Matt squeezes your arm to gain your attention, you are brought back to the present moment.

"Why did you want to become a social worker?" Matt's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you take a moment to gather your thoughts before responding. "I... um... I wanted to help people who have experienced a difficult time. I wanted to offer them a fresh start, free from judgment," you answer honestly, feeling a sense of purpose and compassion in your words.

Matt nods, seemingly appreciating the raw truth in your response. The two of you continue walking side by side, the rhythm of your steps creating a gentle harmony as you navigate the busy streets. “Why did you want to become a lawyer?” You asked as you looked up at him.

Matt's lips curve into a thoughtful smile as he considers your question. His voice carries a hint of nostalgia as he begins to share his motivations. "I wanted to become a lawyer because I believed in the power of justice. I wanted to be someone who could make a difference, who could fight for those who couldn't fight for themselves."

His words resonate with a sense of purpose and determination. As you listen, you can't help but admire his unwavering commitment to upholding the ideals of justice. The bustling city fades into the background, and for a moment, it feels as if it's just the two of you, united by a shared desire to make the world a better place.

As the conversation unfolds, you find yourself becoming more immersed in Matt's story, drawn to the passion and sincerity in his words. Together, you continue your journey, the streets of New York serving as the backdrop to your aspirations and the beginning of a deeper connection.

NEW YORK CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT – NOON

Mahoney eyes you both curiously before making an assumption, "Oh, are you two a..." You interrupt quickly, your cheeks flushing, "No, no! We're just colleagues. I came back to pick up the signed forms, and I need to return them to the DV shelter."

Matt offers a comforting smile while you fumble with your words. He gives your arm a reassuring squeeze before letting you pass by Mahoney to the police desks where the forms are kept. As you hurriedly scan the documents, you steal a glance over your shoulder and notice Matt taking a seat on one of the nearby benches.

The officer informs you that it will take a few minutes to process the forms, advising you to have a seat. Nervously, you settle next to Matt on the bench, stealing a quick glance at him. He appears slightly preoccupied, his head slightly tilted as if he's listening intently for something.

Suddenly, Matt gasps and springs up, freezing in place. The deafening sound of a gunshot echoes through the vicinity, causing you to startle. Chaos ensues as police officers react swiftly, their voices blending with the commotion.

"We've got shots fired!" one of the officers announces, sending a shiver down your spine. An unsettling feeling washes over you, confirming your suspicions that something is seriously amiss.

Matt's heightened senses hones in on the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat. He detects the unmistakable scent and taste of your surging cortisol, the stress hormone permeating the air. The subtle perspiration on your palms and the quiver in your breath are all indicators of your escalating anxiety.

He turns to your slightly shaking figure, recognizing the paralyzing effect the situation has had on you. Time seems to have come to a standstill for everyone else, but you remain trapped in your frozen moment. Matt approaches you with gentle steps, his voice a soothing whisper as he calls your name, attempting to coax you out of your daze. "Hey... Hey... I'm right here. You're with me."

Amidst the chaos around you, Matt extends his hand towards you, a lifeline of reassurance and support. Without hesitation, you feel his firm grip enveloping your trembling fingers, grounding you in the turmoil. The world may still be a blur, but his touch serves as a beacon of stability, guiding you through uncertainty.

Gradually, a sense of self returns to you, and you become aware of Matt's steady presence beside you. You realize that he had taken the lead, guiding you away from the chaotic scene and into a serene alleyway where the noise of the outside world fades into the background. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you gather the courage to speak.

"I... I'm sorry," you say, your voice tinged with a mix of apology and confusion. "I should be used to this by now. I don't know why I reacted the way I did. I'm sorry."

Matt's expression softens, his gaze filled with empathy as he reaches out a hand to gently touch your arm. "There's no need to apologize," he reassures you, his voice gentle yet resolute. "It’s okay. I got you. You’re safe with me, always.”

You take a moment to collect yourself, appreciating his understanding. The weight of the moment begins to lift as you find solace in his presence. Together, you stand in the quiet alleyway, finding comfort in the shared understanding between two individuals whose lives are entwined in the extraordinary.

SOMEWHERE IN NEW YORK CITY,

DOMESTIC VIOLENCE SHELTER – EVENING

As you leave the vicinity of the DV shelter, your mind is filled with a mix of emotions and thoughts. You reach into your pocket and retrieve your cell phone, switching it on to reconnect with the outside world. The city streets, typically bustling with activity, now exude an unusual stillness. It's as if something has shifted, causing a palpable sense of imbalance to permeate the air.

The once-familiar sounds of honking cars and bustling footsteps are replaced by an eerie silence, amplifying the weight of the moment. Your gaze scans the surroundings, searching for any signs or clues as to what may have caused this unsettling change. Is it merely a figment of your imagination, or is there a tangible disturbance in the equilibrium of the city?

Questions swirl in your mind as you continue walking, your steps measured and alert. The cool air brushes against your skin, carrying with it a sense of anticipation and apprehension. Whatever has transpired, you can't shake the feeling that it holds significance, that it's a precursor to events yet to unfold.

Your eyes are drawn to the distance, and a chill runs down your spine as you spot a column of smoke rising ominously into the air. Before you can fully process what's happening, chaos erupts near you. A nearby building explodes with a deafening blast, shattering windows and sending debris flying in all directions.

The ground shakes beneath your feet as the force of the explosion reverberates through the surrounding area. You hear the muffled panic ensuing as people scramble for safety, their cries of fear and confusion blending with the sound of sirens wailing in the distance. Time seems to slow down as you take in the destruction and the plumes of smoke billowing into the sky.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, fueling your determination to navigate the chaos and find a way to help those in need. With a deep breath, you steel yourself and take the first steps towards assisting in any way you can, your heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty and the urgent need to restore order during this unforeseen catastrophe.

As the smoke fills the air and sirens continue to blare, you swiftly make your way toward the DV shelter. Your heart pounds in your chest as you fear for the safety of those inside. Relief washes over you as you find everyone relatively unharmed, with only minor injuries and scratches.

With a quick assessment of the situation, you determine that the immediate needs at the shelter are being taken care of. Your attention now shifts to the nearby buildings that were directly impacted by the blast. Determination fuels your every step as you rush toward the affected area, ready to lend a helping hand.

Arriving at the scene, you're met with the devastating aftermath of the explosion. The damaged buildings stand as a somber testament to the chaos that unfolded. As you survey the area, your eyes widen in recognition—this was one of the Russian hideouts, a grim reminder of the criminal underbelly lurking in the city.

The sight of lifeless bodies and charred weapons strewn across the ground sends a chill down your spine. The realization hits you hard, deepening the gravity of the situation. This was no ordinary incident; it was part of a larger web of criminal activity.

Choosing to distance yourself from the rubble, you follow the blazing lights of police cars that race past you. Instinctively, you move toward the source of the commotion, seeking answers and hoping to find a way to help.

Amid the chaos, you come upon a scene that stops you in your tracks. Matt, fully dressed in his black attire, stands a few feet away, his fist raised as he prepares to strike down Ranskahov, seeking revenge for the harm inflicted upon you and Claire. Your heart races as you watch from behind Corbin and the police officers, realizing the complexities of the situation.

They raise their guns, pointing them at the Masked Man. The officers close in, their intentions unclear. You remain hidden, your powers shimmering as you turn yourself invisible, ready to assist Matt in his fight against these corrupt cops who are undoubtedly on Fisk's payroll.

Amidst the tension and uncertainty, you hope that Matt hasn't picked up on your presence just yet. You prepare yourself to join the fray, your determination burning strong. One of the cops yells, “Don’t you move! Don’t you freakin’ move! Interlock your fingers behind your head and get on your knees. On your knees! Do it! Do it now!”

You approach Matt with a purposeful stride, your hand lightly grazing his shoulder to signal your presence. His whispered question hangs in the air, but instead of offering a direct response, you tap into your abilities. With a melodic distortion, your voice takes on an otherworldly quality as you reply, "Someone who wants to help you."

Positioning yourself in front of the officers, you unleash your powers, manipulating their perceptions and distorting their vision. Ranskahov is shot during the scuffle, but in a dazzling display, your form glimmers and shimmers, weaving a tapestry of illusion and enchantment. The officers, caught off guard by the sudden alteration of reality, find themselves disoriented and bewildered.

The fight unfolds with a fluidity and grace that seems almost supernatural. You seamlessly blend your powers and a touch of magic to incapacitate a majority of the officers. Your movements are precise, calculated, and mesmerizing to behold.

As the chaos subsides and the last of the officers are neutralized, you stand amidst the aftermath, your power still crackling in the air. Your eyes meet Matt's figure, standing and heaving, there's a flicker of recognition mixed with intrigue. The truth of your abilities and your intentions remains shrouded, but in this pivotal moment, a connection forms between you and the masked vigilante.

As Matt's plea reaches your ears, “Stay with me.” A surge of emotions courses through you, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed facade you wear. You turn away, your heart aching with unspoken words, and feel the tremor in your voice as you distort it, a painful reflection of your inner turmoil. "I wish I could," you confess, your voice quivering with regret and longing.

You quickly come to a realization, understanding that the situation calls for a strategic approach. While your instincts urge you to stay by Matt's side and offer your support, you also recognize the importance of ensuring the safety of others in the vicinity. The weight of responsibility settles upon your shoulders as you grasp the need to cover more ground.

With a determined resolve, you decide to extend your reach beyond Matt's immediate presence. You understand that there are civilians at risk, their lives hanging in the balance amidst the chaos. You know that by safeguarding the innocent and aiding those in distress, you are contributing to the overall mission of protecting the city.

Though your heart may ache at the thought of being separated from Matt, you understand the necessity of this approach. The strength of your bond and shared purpose will endure, even if you are physically apart. And as you cover ground, ensuring the safety of others, you hold onto the hope that Matt will do the same, fighting against the forces of darkness to bring justice and protect the vulnerable.

Matt's expression was filled with a mix of hope and desperation. His voice, barely above a whisper, carries a weight of vulnerability. "Will I see you again?" he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty.

A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you meet his distant gaze through the mask, wanting to offer reassurance amidst the uncertainty. "I’ll find you," you promise, determination shining in your eyes.

At that moment, you fade away, slipping from his grasp like a whisper lost in the wind. You become a ghost, a phantom presence lingering in the recesses of his mind. Like the ephemeral glimmer of a comet in the night sky, you leave a lasting impression, a celestial spectacle he cannot forget.

Lost in the depths of his thoughts, Matt ponders your enigmatic presence. He remains uncertain of your identity, your purpose, and the boundaries that separate you. Yet, he can't help but believe that you are his miracle, a guardian angel sent to watch over him, even if he feels unworthy of such grace.

As you continue on your path, the echoes of his whispered plea and your promise linger in your heart. The connection forged in that fleeting encounter leaves an indelible mark on your soul. And though the journey ahead may be arduous and fraught with challenges, the hope of crossing paths with him again becomes a beacon that guides you through the darkness.

METRO-GENERAL HOSPITAL - EVENING

Sometimes, the city feels distant, like a place lost in time, where the radio stations play unfamiliar tunes and discuss a God who prefers modesty. In those moments, you find yourself caught between where you've been and the vast unknown that lies ahead.

As you rush through the doors of Metro-General, the Emergency Department buzzes with activity. The blaring sound of a television grabs your attention, broadcasting the breaking news of the devastating explosions that rocked Hell's Kitchen.

As you swiftly navigate through the chaos and devastation surrounding the hospital, your keen senses alert you to the cries of injured civilians in desperate need of help. Your heart swells with empathy as you rush to their aid, displaying both strength and compassion.

With steady hands and a reassuring voice, you guide a couple of injured civilians toward safety, providing them solace amidst the chaos. Despite the urgency of the situation, you take the time to offer comforting words and gentle reassurance, ensuring they know they are not alone in this turmoil.

Their pain becomes your own, and your determination to protect and heal emanates from your every action. With unwavering resolve, you navigate the labyrinthine hallways, instinctively seeking out the areas where medical assistance is most needed. As you tend to the injured, your presence alone provides a sense of calm and reassurance. You tirelessly work to stabilize their conditions, offering a compassionate touch and a comforting word in the face of unimaginable pain. Your selflessness is evident in every action, as you prioritize the well-being of others above all else.

In the chaos, you spot Foggy and Karen, their faces filled with worry, bringing in an injured Mrs. Cardenas. Your eyes meet Claire's from down the hall, and you hasten your steps to join their group, ready to lend a helping hand.

"Are you guys okay?" you inquire, concern evident in your voice. Foggy, Karen, and Claire exchange worried glances, their eyes lingering on the bruises and scratches that mar your skin.

"What happened to you? You're covered in bruises," Karen observes, her voice filled with genuine concern. Quick on your feet, you conjure a plausible lie, hoping to shield them from the truth.

"Oh, I was near one of the explosions, but I managed to escape unscathed," you assure them, your voice resolute, despite the smudged dirt on your skin and the disarray of your appearance. Claire's perceptive gaze meets yours, silently acknowledging that there's more to the story. Though unspoken, her understanding serves as a comforting reassurance that your secret is safe for now.

After swiftly delegating Mrs. Cardenas and attending to Foggy's wound, you are pulled aside by Claire and guided into a nearby stairwell. Concern fills your voice as you whisper, "Are we supposed to be in here?" She places a finger to her lips, urging you to keep quiet, and shows you her phone, indicating that Matt is calling. Your eyes widen in apprehension as you look up at Claire, waiting for her to answer the call. She puts it on low volume speaker, ensuring your involvement.

"I need your help. I've found someone who has crucial information about what I've been investigating, but he's been shot," Matt's gravelly voice resonates through the speaker. Claire rolls her eyes in exasperation and suggests, "Why don't you call 911?"

"I can't. The police are the ones who shot him. They'd probably like a chance to finish the job," Matt explains, prompting Claire to seek your confirmation. You nod silently, conveying your agreement. Claire sighs in resignation and questions, "You want me to come to you... in the middle of all this?"

"No, I want you to walk me through stabilizing him," Matt replies. Claire rolls her eyes once again, and you stifle a laugh at their familiar banter. Claire responds over the phone, "It's not as easy as it looks in the movies, you know?" Matt retorts playfully, "I don't really go to the movies. I like records, though.”

You can't help but roll your eyes this time, thinking to yourself how much of a flirt Matt can be. Claire sighs and relents, “All right.” Matt then continues, “There's something else you need to know. The man I'm trying to save… it's Vladimir.”

Matt continues, "There's something else you need to know. The man I'm trying to save... it's Vladimir."

Frustration washes over you, and you briefly close your eyes, looking away from the phone. Claire's voice echoes with anger, "The jerk who had me beaten up? That's who you want me to help?"

Matt sighs, pleading, “Look, you have every right to tell me to go to hell, but he's important, Claire. What he knows could bring Fisk down and save more people like you from getting hurt.”

A heavy silence hangs over the line as you stand next to Claire, offering her a sympathetic gaze. You mouth the word "please" while Matt calls out for Claire once again.

Claire's voice crackles through the phone with a sense of urgency, "Is there an exit wound?" Matt's response is barely audible, his voice filled with gratitude, "Thank you." He pauses momentarily, his throat clearing before he continues, “Uh, no. The bullet's still inside him. It's still half a degree hotter than the surrounding tissue.”

Claire then asks, “Is there any kind of first aid kit?” To which Matt replies, “I'm in a warehouse. Abandoned.” Claire looks at you and then raises her eyebrows, “Tell me what's there, anything you can use.”

"Alright, hang on," Matt's voice crackles through the phone, filled with determination. You exchange a glance with Claire, your expression a mix of concern and anxiety. The weight of the situation hangs heavy in the air as you prepare to guide Matt through a risky procedure.

Matt's voice comes through, listing the items he has at his disposal. “Uh, half a box of nails... broken glass... wood, duct tape, old roadside emergency kit, a lot of plastic sheeting…” Each item carries its potential, a makeshift arsenal in their desperate circumstances.

Claire's voice cuts through the tension, her focus sharp. “The kit, are there any flares in it?” Your eyebrows raise in surprise as Matt confirms, “Yeah, two.”

Claire hums, her mind working out a plan. “Alright... you're gonna cauterize the wound.” The gravity of her words sinks in, knowing the pain and risk involved.

Matt's voice carries a hint of uncertainty, "Shouldn't I dig the bullet out first?" Claire shrugs, her voice steady and experienced. You squint up at her, silently taking in her expertise. "Remember what I said about this not being a movie? You cut him open and start digging around, you'll kill him. This way, at least he has a chance of not bleeding out before you get what you need out of him... and... it'll hurt like a son of a bitch, so bonus."

A brief pause follows as Matt absorbs Claire's instructions. His determination shines through as he asks, "Alright, how do I do this?" Claire sighs, her voice soothing yet firm, "Just light the flare, hold it close to his skin until the entry wound seals." The simplicity of her instructions masks the high stakes and the immense trust placed in Matt's hands.

Silence hangs in the air, the weight of the moment palpable. You remain on the line, a silent presence of support, as Matt prepares to undertake this risky procedure that could save a life or plunge them further into peril, “Okay, I'm gonna put you on speaker.”

With a sense of urgency, you snatch the phone from Claire's hand, pressing the mute button swiftly. Concern etches across your face as you realize the importance of determining the precise location where Matt finds himself. You need to be prepared for any potential obstacles or dangers that lie ahead.

Claire's expression betrays her worry as she shakes her head, hesitant to let you venture into the unknown. She understands the risks involved and fears for your safety. But your determination shines through as you meet her gaze, emphasizing the significance of your collective mission.

You lock eyes with Claire, conveying the gravity of the situation. You know that time is of the essence, and every decision carries weight. Countless lives hang in the balance, and you can't stand idly by. Your voice carries conviction as you implore Claire to make the crucial inquiry.

"I need to know where he is, Claire," you insist, your tone filled with urgency. "We can't leave anything to chance. Lives are at stake."

Claire hesitates for a moment, her eyes darting between you and the phone. She understands the weight of your words and the responsibility that comes with them. Finally, she nods and takes back the phone, once again connecting with Matt. His voice reverberates through the line, calling out for Claire. She responds her tone steady yet laced with concern.

"Yeah... still here," Claire answers, her voice filled with determination. "But before you start, can you let me know which area you're in? Just in case."

The line falls silent for a brief moment, tension filling the air. Then, Matt's voice breaks through, his words carrying a hint of relief. "Northwest corner of 47th and 12th," he reveals, giving you a lifeline in this race against time.

You meet Claire's gaze, gratitude shining in your eyes. It's a silent acknowledgment of her pivotal role in acquiring this crucial information. With a nod, you quickly formulate your next course of action, knowing that there is no time to waste.

Without further delay, you take a deep breath and quietly exit the stairwell, ready to face the challenges ahead and join Matt in his fight.

ABANDONED BUILDING, NORTHWEST CORNER OF 47TH AND 12TH – EVENING

You try your best to stay out of sight and hide between the shadows of the alleyways. There are sirens wailing and police radio chattering, multiple officers, and their K9s. Ben Urich is also discussing with the two detectives when you arrive and you have a concerned look on your face as you feel your powers pulse and vibrate as you will them to life, rendering the illusion of invisibility as you walked past the officers and climbed up a fire escape to get to where Matt is.

By the time you reached the second floor, you spot Vladimir, his bloodied and wounded form sprawled on the ground, a testament to the brutality of the situation. As you take in the scene, your eyes scan the surroundings, checking the perimeter for any signs of danger. Matt, focused and composed, is busy securing a police officer to a rusty metal pole, ensuring he remains restrained.

Vladimir's voice strained and sputtering with blood, reaches your ears. "You've been busy," he manages to say, his words laced with both exhaustion and curiosity. You position yourself near the window panes, keeping watch as Matt diligently proceeds to silence the officer with a layer of duct tape across his mouth.

Vladimir's head tilts at an odd angle as he groggily asks, "How do you know this?" You turn to witness Matt's nonchalant shrug, his response filled with an air of mystery. "Lucky guess," he casually remarks, his instincts proving sharp even in the direst of situations.

Suddenly, the sound of helicopter blades reverberates through the building, confirming the accuracy of Matt's prediction. Matt bends down to pick up a discarded pistol, skillfully unloading and disassembling it without hesitation. Vladimir's eyes widen at the sight, his voice dripping with frustration. "We could have used that."

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Matt's lips as he retrieves a sturdy metal cylinder pipe instead. "I'm not big on guns," he states with conviction, his actions speaking volumes about his principles.

In an instant, Matt is standing next to you by the window, attuned to the world outside. Together, you listen to the symphony of heartbeats, barks, and radio chatter, a cacophony of chaos that defines the battlefield surrounding the building. As Vladimir groans in pain, the effects of the cauterization evident, he musters the strength to voice his discontent. "You... burned me?" he coughs out, his disbelief palpable.

Matt's response is both matter-of-fact and compassionate. "Yeah, I had to stop the bleeding," he states, his determination to save lives shining through. Vladimir's anguished cry fills the air, a testament to the excruciating pain he is enduring as Matt drags him against a wooden crate for him to lean on.

Matt's voice remains steady, his resolve unyielding. "Bullet's still inside you. Wouldn't move around, if I were you." In the midst of their tense exchange, Vladimir musters the strength to voice his defiance. "You expect me to say thank you?" he sputters out, his words laced with a mix of bitterness and defiance.

Matt’s voice grows deeper, “If I didn't need you alive, we wouldn't be having this conversation.” Vladimir chuckles weakly and coughs, “So you just stand there and let me die, huh? But you couldn't kill me yourself. Is that where you draw the line?”

Matt kneels down, his determination etched on his face as he growls, "Tell me what I want to know about Fisk." Vladimir, blood dripping from his mouth, musters a defiant response, "You think you're different... from me? From him? But you'll get there. Sooner or later... we all do, men like us."

Moved by the intensity of the moment, you stand beside Matt, offering your support. Your hand gently rests on his shoulder, providing a silent reassurance. As your touch connects with him, you feel his body freeze, his muscles tensing. Matt cranes his neck to the side, his heightened senses acknowledging your presence. His voice, barely audible, carries a mix of surprise and relief as he whispers, "You were looking for me."

Your hand instinctively moves down to his arm, offering a comforting squeeze. You lean closer to his ear, your words a soft murmur, "I'm always looking for you."

Matt turns his head slightly, his attention briefly shifting to your presence, but he doesn't linger on it. Instead, he focuses on Vladimir, the urgency of the situation pulling him back into the moment. "A man like Fisk just took out your entire operation," Matt asserts, his voice carrying a weight of authority. "And he may not own all the cops, but he owns enough that you won't make it into a prison cell. Right now, I'm your only shot at getting out of this building alive."

Vladimir, his breathing heavy, musters the strength to share crucial information. "His lapdog came to us first. He told us his employer had taken note. He complimented... us on our business. Invited us to be part of something bigger... to expand... if we entered into an agreement."

Matt's gravelly voice cuts through the tension, his question demanding answers. "What did Fisk offer?" he asks, his focus unwavering.

Vladimir shrugs, a grimace forming on his blood-stained face. "Police looking other way... aid from politicians... and access to Chinese and their heroin."

Surprised by the revelation, Matt presses further, "He's working with the Chinese?" Vladimir's mocking tone sends a wave of frustration through Matt. "You really don't know anything, do you? Just snapping at scraps falling from the table."

Frustrated but undeterred, Matt licks his lips, determined to gather more information. "I want names. Everything you know about them and how they connect to Fisk."

Vladimir's energy wanes, his voice growing weaker. "There's only one name that matters. The man that can tie it all together." Matt's urgency rises as he implores, "Who?"

With a distant gaze, Vladimir reminisces, his voice trailing off, "We were going to rule this city... my brother and I."

Matt, sensing the opportunity slipping away, growls urgently, "Vladimir, the name!"

Struggling to form the words, Vladimir's voice fades before he utters something in Russian. Suddenly, he catches Matt off guard, headbutting him and launching a swift attack with a wooden plank. Matt groans, winded and disoriented, trying to regain his footing amidst the chaos.

Defiantly, Vladimir cries out, "This is not how I die. This is not how it happens." Matt, refusing to yield, pushes himself up from the floor, his resolve unyielding. The room becomes a blur of grunts, punches, and strikes as the two adversaries engage in a fierce battle. In a stunning turn of events, Matt gains the upper hand, bringing Vladimir down to the ground, causing the old wooden floors to splinter beneath their weight. The deafening sound of planks clattering and the heavy thump of their bodies hitting the floor below reverberate through the room, causing you to flinch.

Your heart races with panic as you witness the aftermath of the intense confrontation. Matt lies motionless, his body splayed across the fractured floor. Fear and concern grip you, overpowering any rational thought. Without hesitation, you tap into your unique abilities.

Drawing upon the illusory energy within you, you summon your powers. An ethereal shimmer envelops your form, rendering you visible once again. With a focused determination, you concentrate your energy, allowing it to manifest beneath your feet.

Gradually, you lift off the ground, defying gravity as you hover above the wreckage. Your descent through the gaping hole in the floor is guided by a combination of instinct and concern. Matt's stillness propels you forward, an invisible force compelling you to reach him.

As you gently lower yourself to the lower level, your touch meets the battered body of the man you have the urge to care for. Tenderly, you cradle his head in your hands, checking for signs of life. Matt stirs, his breath shallow but present, and relief washes over you.

With a mixture of relief and worry etched on your face, you whisper softly, "Come on, stay with me." Your voice carries a blend of encouragement and concern, urging him to regain his strength. The sounds of the dog barking and distant sirens serving as a constant reminder of the perilous situation. Time is of the essence, and you know that you must act swiftly to ensure Matt's safety and the success of their mission.

As Matt groans in pain, you lend him your support, his weight partially resting against you. He grimaces and spits out a mouthful of blood, the metallic taste lingering in the air. Your heart aches at the sight, fueling your determination to help him through this ordeal.

While maintaining your grip on Matt, he turns his head towards the motionless Vladimir, his gaze filled with a mix of pain and defiance. His voice carries a hint of a growl as he addresses his defeated adversary, "That wasn't very smart."

Vladimir's body remains still, but his eyes continue to glare at Matt with a piercing intensity. With a mocking sneer, he taunts, "But it was fun, wasn't it? Watching you bleed. And finally seeing what your little guardian angel looks like."

You swallow nervously, the weight of the situation pressing upon you. Matt's response is laced with contempt, his voice dripping with defiance and a touch of blood, "You think this is a game?"

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Vladimir's mouth as he retorts, "If it was a game, you'd be losing."

Meanwhile, you shift your focus to tending to Matt's injuries as best you can amidst the chaos. Your hands brush away the dirt and debris, offering a semblance of comfort in the midst of their harsh surroundings. Drawing upon the energy of your glamour, you channel it to alleviate some of the soreness and minor wounds, providing a small measure of relief.

As Vladimir's eyes flutter closed, Matt freezes for a moment before mustering his strength and pushing himself up. He hurriedly moves to Vladimir's side and begins performing chest compressions, his voice filled with desperation, "No... No... Come on. I'm not done with you yet. You hear me? I'm not done with you yet."

Sensing the urgency of the situation, you quickly join Matt, gently taking hold of his arms and urging him to step aside. Reluctantly, he complies and shifts his focus to your actions. You concentrate on the rhythm of your compressions, your hands applying measured pressure to Vladimir's chest.

The room is charged with tension as you continue the life-saving procedure. The sound of your hands connecting with Vladimir's chest echoes through the air. However, just as you feel a flicker of doubt, your powers surge to life, channeling a surge of magic into his body. The shock jolts Vladimir's heart, coaxing it back into a normal rhythm.

Coughing and gasping for air, Vladimir's eyes widen in confusion. He struggles to comprehend what just occurred. Unamused, you respond with a hint of annoyance in your tone, "You died. I brought you back. You're welcome."

Vladimir gazes up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and disdain. With a hint of mockery, he taunts, "You can't even stand there and let me die, even after I almost killed the one you're so eager to protect. Does he even know your name?"

Gritting your teeth, you feel Matt's presence beside you. Shaking your head, you reply, "It doesn't matter. Give us the information we need about Fisk."

However, the sudden sounds from outside the building catch your attention, causing both you and Matt to tense up. Your eyes meet his, silently communicating the urgency of the situation. Matt swiftly positions himself atop a wooden table, his palms pressed against its surface to sense the vibrations of the concrete. He cranes his neck, absorbing every piece of information from the surroundings. The rumbling of the nearby train tracks triggers an idea in his mind.

Curious, Vladimir asks, "What are you doing?" Matt responds with determination in his voice, "Finding us a way out."

Moving swiftly, Matt strides over to a corner of the room, and you follow his lead. He squats down, removing the wooden planks and debris that obstruct the way. Your eyes catch sight of a metal grate, likely leading to the sewer. Matt starts pulling at the bars, and you join him, lending your strength to the task at hand. However, just as you begin, the crackling of a radio fills the room, and a voice at the other end speaks up, "I'd like to speak to the man in the mask, please."

Your eyes shoot up to Matt, a mix of anxiety and anticipation evident in your expression, as the voice on the radio continues to speak. "Hello. Are you there? Can you hear me?" Matt's attention is drawn to the radio lying on the floor. He quickly reaches for a piece of wood, using his gloved hand to turn it over, and then picks up the device. "Who is this?" he inquires, his voice laced with caution.

A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you realize the significance of this moment. "I think you know," you respond, your voice tinged with apprehension. "You've been asking about me. I thought it was time we spoke." While keeping your hands on the metal grate beneath you, you strain to listen to the conversation unfolding between Matt and the man on the other end of the line, whom you assume to be Fisk.

"Say your name," Matt demands, his tone firm and unwavering. Fisk counters, "You first." There's a brief pause before Fisk continues, "That's what I thought. You and I have a lot in common."

Matt whispers deeply, his voice filled with conviction, "We're nothing alike."

Fisk disagrees, his voice dripping with smugness, "That's what you'll tell yourself."

"You're feeding off this city... like a cancer," Matt states matter-of-factly, his words cutting through the tension.

"I want to save this city, like you... only on a scale that matters," Fisk retorts, his tone implying a twisted sense of righteousness.

"Now tell that to the people you've hurt," Matt challenges, his voice holding a blend of anger and determination.

"Young man... life is not a fairy tale. Not everyone deserves... a happy ending," Fisk responds nonchalantly, his words leaving a bitter taste in the air.

You gather the remaining strength within you, attempting to summon your powers once more, but they flicker out, leaving you frustrated and on the verge of tears.

"I'm gonna find you... and I'm gonna make you pay for what you've done," Matt threatens, his voice seething with righteous fury. Fisk doesn't miss a beat, his tone unwavering, "No, you are not. Not that I don't admire what you're trying to do... to change the world... with nothing but desire and your own two hands... secure in the knowledge that you're doing the right thing, the only thing. That's something that I do understand. But we both can't have what we want. So... your part... in this drama, by necessity, comes to an end."

"It's gonna take a lot more than a voice on a radio to stop me," Matt declares defiantly, kneeling on the floor. He can sense your fatigue and nausea, and his concern for you simmers beneath his anger.

"It's not me you need to worry about. It's the city you just blew the hell out of," Fisk says, revealing his true intentions. As you lift your head, you lock eyes with Matt, realizing that Fisk has played his cards perfectly, orchestrating the situation in his favor.

Matt stands up and moves closer to you, a knowing smirk on his face. He chuckles over the radio, "You... You think anyone's gonna believe that?"

"You're running around in a mask, holing up with a known felon in the wake of a series of bombings. There's that police officer you're holding hostage, so... yes. Actually, I do. But it doesn't have to be this way. The Russian... is he alive?" Fisk inquires. Matt turns the radio toward Vladimir, who spits back, "I'm still here, you fat shit!"

Matt's smirk widens as he presses the radio button, triumphantly saying, "Does that answer your question?"

"It's a one-time offer. You kill the Russian, and we'll call the night a push. You know what he's done... to women... to children..." Fisk presents his proposition, his voice dripping with malice. Matt's boot lands on Vladimir's hand, preventing him from grabbing a sharp piece of wood, eliciting a pained groan. Matt effortlessly grabs the wooden piece and hurls it across the room.

"To the people of this city that you claim to care about," Fisk adds, his words fueling Matt's anger.

"You just confirmed how important he is. That must worry you, what he might tell me," Matt asserts, exposing Fisk's fear. Fisk retorts, "Which means he hasn't told you anything yet."

You sense Matt's anger boiling beneath the surface as he kicks some rubble aside in frustration, causing you to flinch. Matt turns his body towards you, and you direct your attention back to the metal grate. You shake your head, attempting to muster the last ounce of energy within you, determined to replenish your magic before Fisk's men close in on all of you.

"You're a child playing at being a hero," Fisk taunts, his words intended to provoke. Matt licks his lower lip in frustration before responding, "No, no, I'm not trying to be a hero. I'm just a guy that got fed up with men like you and I decided to do something about it."

"That's what makes you dangerous. It's not the mask. It's not the skills. It's your ideology. The lone man... who thinks he can make a difference," Fisk states grimly. Disagreement knits your eyebrows together, but you can see the way Matt's lips curl downwards, haunted by a memory that quietly slips under the door of his mind. It rewinds the tapes, presenting evidence that what Fisk is saying holds a grain of truth. In that moment, your heart aches at the thought of Matt believing it.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself you've won. It'll make what I'm gonna do to you so much more satisfying," Matt says, his voice filled with determination. Fisk replies coldly, "Your part ends tonight."

"And if that's true, others will take my place. They'll see what I was trying to do, and they'll make sure..." Matt's sentence is cut short by Fisk's interruption, "No, they won't. The city will burn you in effigy. Your name, your very existence... will be met with abhorrence and disgust."

The sudden clamoring and screams from outside weigh heavily on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. Matt's voice, filled with pain, resonates, "What did you do?"

"What you forced me to do. Goodbye. I'm afraid we won't speak again," Fisk declares, severing the connection. Matt pushes himself off the wall, his frustration and anger erupting in a furious yell before he hurls the radio, shattering it against the wall with a display of his strength.

Realizing that you need a few minutes to recover before attempting to tackle the stubborn metal grate once again, you find a spot on the ground to sit down. Leaning your back against the wall, you catch your breath, pushing stray strands of hair away from your face with tired fingers.

Matt, ever determined, moves towards the metal grate, ready to give it another try. However, just as he starts to exert his strength, the shrill ring of his phone interrupts his efforts. He pauses, panting, and answers with a weary tone, "It's really not a good time."

You pay little attention to who might be on the other end of the line, but you can hear fragments of Claire's voice filtering through the speaker. A brief moment passes before Matt pants out a response, "No. It was Fisk. It's all Fisk."

Feeling a mixture of exhaustion and curiosity, you observe Matt as he moves to the other side of the room, engaging in the phone conversation. His head tilts to the side, his expression grave, as he listens intently. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, his usually confident voice falters, "Claire. Um... What you said, before I left... I was..."

His words trail off, and you can sense the weight of his emotions. "No, don't be," he continues, his voice filled with sincerity. "It turns out you were... You were right... about me. I just don't want you getting caught up if it goes that way. If we don't get a chance to talk again... you take care of yourself."

It becomes apparent to you how easily Matt pushes away those he cares about, as if his hands act as barriers, closing off access to his own heart. The anger, fear, and sadness that he keeps hidden beneath the surface remain locked away in a secluded room within him. Pushing yourself up from the wall, you ignore the pain in your hands from previous attempts to claw at the grate. Squatting down, you grip the metal tightly, determination etched on your face.

Both Matt and Vladimir move to assist you, but your voice, filtered with resolve, reverberates through the room, "Stop." Their movements freeze, and you feel the surge of power within you growing. The energy manipulates the metal grate, causing it to shift and tremble under your command. A sharp cry of pain escapes your lips, and with great effort, you finally give in, collapsing to the side.

Matt acts swiftly, catching your limp figure in his arms, providing support as you struggle to catch your breath. You watch as the shimmering magic that surrounded the grate fades away, but to your surprise, the grate itself is completely gone. Your eyes widen in astonishment at the display of your newfound abilities. A snort escapes you, mingling with the pain and exhaustion, "You were right. This isn't how we die."

With Matt's help, you manage to make your way down the ladder, gripping a flashlight tightly in your hand. The stench of sewage only adds to the disorientation, but you push through, determined to keep moving forward. Matt takes on the responsibility of supporting your weight, doing his best to assist you. He guides Vladimir to a wall on the side, allowing him a moment to catch his breath.

Vladimir's voice cuts through the air, filled with confusion, "Where are we?"

"Access tunnels," Matt responds, his voice containing a hint of knowledge. "The city was built on a network of these, most of them sealed up years ago." His head tilts as he hones in on the approaching sounds of police officers, hot on your trail.

"Alright, we have to keep moving, find a way to the street," Matt declares, his determination resurfacing. With one side supporting Vladimir and the other struggling to support you, you all continue on, navigating the maze-like tunnels in search of an escape route to the surface.

As you turn your attention to the locked door, your mind races with ideas on how to open it. However, before you can offer your assistance, Matt's swift reflexes come into play. He swiftly throws Vladimir aside, propelling him away from the immediate danger. The sound of a commanding voice fills the air, yelling, "Freeze!"

Reacting on instinct, you instinctively duck, narrowly avoiding the hail of gunfire that erupts in the tunnel. Matt's finely honed senses and skills kick into high gear as he gracefully evades the bullets, his movements fluid and precise. Your powers surge within you, and you harness their energy to create ethereal spheres of shimmering illusions. With a focused intention, you launch the illusions at one of the officers, causing him to become disoriented and rendering him unconscious.

Seizing the opportunity, you spot Matt's discarded metal pipe on the ground and swiftly grab it. With a surge of energy, you infuse the pipe with power, transforming it into a formidable weapon. Expertly aiming, you hurl the energized pipe at the second officer, striking him square in the head. At the same time, you unleash a beam of projection, creating mirages and shimmers that disorient the remaining officer.

Matt's skills are unmatched as he swiftly disarms the final officer, his movements seamless and calculated. With the immediate threat neutralized, he stands by your side, both of you breathing heavily from the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You lean against the wall, wincing at the sharp pain in your side, and take a moment to catch your breath. Meanwhile, Vladimir has managed to secure one of the rifles and points it toward the two of you.

"We need to go. There are five more coming. They're working for Fisk, probably not even real cops. We don't have time for this," Matt pants out urgently, his voice laced with concern. You frown, realizing the severity of the situation, but before you can react, Vladimir interrupts with a pained voice, "I think... maybe I stay."

Matt tries to reason with him, his voice tinged with desperation, "We can still make it out of here. You can turn evidence on Fisk, we can expose him..."

Vladimir shakes his head, his voice resolute, "He controls... all police... judges. There's only one way to stop him, you know this."

Matt firmly denies, "No. I'm not a killer."

"The moment you put on the mask... you got into a cage with animals. Animals don't stop fighting. Not until one of them is dead," Vladimir states, his words carrying the weight of bitter experience. He groans as he pushes himself up from the floor, his determination unwavering. His gaze shifts between you and Matt, and then settles on you. "And he will do it... to everyone you care about. Will you feel the same way then? Or will you be a man... and do what you know you must do?"

Vladimir's words hang heavy in the air, their impact sinking in. You close your eyes for a moment, contemplating the choices before you. The distant sound of chatter and approaching footsteps snaps your attention back to the present. Vladimir's gaze shifts between all of you, his voice filled with urgency, "Go."

Summoning the last reserves of your energy, you focus your powers once more. With a burst of golden energy, you direct a powerful surge towards the locked door. The door buckles under the force, hinges groaning and splintering, until finally, it bursts open, revealing an escape route from the turmoil, bloodshed, and the weighty decisions that lingered in the air.

Together, you and Matt rush through the newly opened passage, leaving behind the dissonance and unfortunate resolve of Vladimir.

End Notes:

Yes yes, I KNOW. Does Matt know? It’s you?? We’ll find out in the next chapter. Hehehe. Yay for the black suit :> I was supposed to split this into two parts but ehhh I couldn’t help myself.

Lowkey blacked out while writing this chonky chapter so uhhh if there are any mistakes... my bad! 😣

Okay time for the next episode! See ya 👋

TAGLIST:

@scoliobean

#matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fem!reader #notre dame etherealbloom #notre dame series #notre dame matt murdock #notre dame ethereal #matthew murdock x fem!reader

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nikatyler · 4 months

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Simblr gratitude but I'm a few days late

I swear I wasn't going to miss it, but then life threw some plot twists and then it threw bigger plot twists and ahhh. December has been a rollercoaster and I hate rollercoasters but at the moment we are so back babey. (Okay...not quite "so back" but I think I've processed most of the hell of the past 72 something hours.)

I'm really bad at expressing these feelings so it's just going to be one big list with nothing else added at all, but I want to thank you all. I haven't been around simblr or simblr discords much this year but you stayed. And some of you have been here for a HELLA long time. And then there are also those of you whose stories and edits are absolute chef's kiss and if it was possible for me to catch up on literally everything I've missed, I would, but right now I'm just happy when I catch you being amazing whenever I can. Or we used to talk a lot more often and now we don't but I still cherish the time we did.

I would like to promise that next year, I'll be here more often and I'll be more active in the community again (rather than just scheduling my legacy and leaving again), but I'll be dealing with some changes soon, so...yeah. But I'll try. Let's just say I might be out of the woods and entering a better phase of my life.

Lots of different reasons why I love and appreciate you guys. <3 So, in no particular order:

@arogaba

@amixofpixels

@dandylion240

@poisonfireleafs

@dragonplumbobs

@cas-sims

@echoweaver

@cyazurai

@wannabecatwriter

@sharona-sims

@pomelosims

@lostinsixam

@paladinlegacy

@teekapoa

@introvertedfox

...and many more <3

#simblr gratitude day

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selarina · 11 months

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Silence in Glamour's Wake

→ Osamu Miya x Fem ! Actress Reader

Summary: Miya Osamu finds himself a reluctant guest at an award function, accompanying his brother, Atsumu. Lost in a sea of opulence, Osamu's disengaged gaze lands on an actress whose name eludes his memory.

Content Warnings: after party, fluff, swearing, underlying angst on osamu’s part, osamu miya needs some sleep, atsumu is shirtless at one point because yes

Word Count: 1.5k words

Author's Notes: This is painstakingly a first draft but I'll edit it soon, I promise. Enjoy!

Also, this is how I imagine Osamu in this story. Hugh Grant, my beloved <3

Read on AO3

His eyes take in the imagery of the entrance to the avenue. He takes in the scene – the event is one of ostentatious glamour and blinding jewels; with actors and actresses scattered across much like priced antiques at a flea market. They stand in their spots for the onlookers to gawk at, to be interviewed, and to eternalise. They will remain ageless and timeless in the photographs taken today. Their photographs will make it all the way to eternity. His will age and weather to dust in the confines of his shop, and perhaps, with luck by his side, his photograph may even make it into a small crevice within his grandchild's house.

His gaze shifts to the flurry of activity where the photographers are crowding at. He moves his head to see past the heads blocking his eye-line and he sees more people racing around her, people assisting her with her dress by straightening out the creases at the edge of her seams and another rushing to touch up her makeup. He realises he’s seen a movie or two with her in it, but he can’t really recall her name. People scramble to make her look picture-perfect. But she isn't, he decides.

He notices a soft smudge in her makeup, the trembling in her hands, and a look of wrapped-up confusion on her face. It fades — very quickly — into a big smile, he almost thinks he must've imagined all the imperfections. He doesn't think anyone else noticed, aside from the ones who tried hard to fix them, but he does because he supposes that is what disengaged onlookers would do.

If he’s being honest, he’s been flitting rather mindlessly from one overstimulating scene to another, staggering behind his brother and his brother’s co-star. That is if he could even call Atsumu a star at all, at least in the realm of acting.

Atsumu recently cameoed for a brief few seconds, seconds so short you could almost miss it unless you truly cared about him, or about the film. The film later went on to gain one too many acclamations, and in turn, the organizers of the event decided to extend an invitation to Atsumu, and one lucky guest. The guest was hand-picked almost instantly, explaining Osamu’s current predicament.

Osamu tried to turn it down really, he had firmly decided and he walked up to Atsumu with an apology ready and everything but once he looked at the stupid ugly grin adorning his face, he soberly agreed to join him. He found that he could rarely ever say no to Atsumu when it came to certain things.

His eyes flit up to the actress, and he notices that her smile is still present but not as big. He also notices a soft slump in her back when the cameras move to the next star — an actor this time. He doesn’t turn to look back at you, now enamoured by the actor, noticing his tastefully coordinated outfit embellished with a sweet leather jacket. He’s always wanted one, but could never truly bring himself to buy one.

—

The award function went by in a swift few hours, what with Osamu being asleep for most of it. He really should have taken the day off work yesterday, he thinks as he dawdles at the bar of the afterparty. He felt bad, but he has an inkling that Atsumu barely cared about his presence after a bit, what with him cozying up with a certain actress he seemed to recognise from a few movie posters that have been on the billboards of late. But he did learn the actress’ name, the one from the red carpet, when she cascaded up the stairs to pick up her award — her first SAG award, she exclaimed and went on to speak an eloquent few words, thanking so and so. He doesn’t remember the rest, but it seemed to be something akin to the dozen other speeches he heard today.

He dawdles across, not really knowing how to interact with the people, they’re all so — trained? He’s not one for networking, he’s good at socialising, but not networking. He moves from room to room, trying to find one that’s empty, or at least almost empty.

He’s tired and he wants to sleep but he also doesn’t want to half-ass this. And frankly, he thinks if he falls asleep before 1 am today, he will have to consider it a personal failure. So, he walks out of the room and moves on to another. He can’t tell if he’s already been here since they all look a bit alike — white walls, fancy couches, dim yellow light, sometimes a dim blue light. He walks in, and his fingers may as well be crossed, and… it’s empty.

He hears a clang, just then. Well, almost empty, he thinks.

He looks up, and it’s you — the SAG award winner, the eloquent speaker, and the red-carpet actress. You’re wearing a different outfit now, a lot less glamorous but still something an actress would wear to an event.

“Shit!” You exclaim, but before you could bend down to pick up whatever has fallen, he picks it up instead. It looks like an earring, an intricate one at that.

“Here,” he gives it to you, and he almost drops it again, it’s surprisingly slippery against his fingers.

“Fuck,” you half-laugh in relief. “Wouldn’t want to drop that.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” you say as you delicately place the earrings in an embezzled case of silver. “I’d have to buy it then.”

“It’s not yours?” He asks, rather confused.

“Nope, just on loan for now.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t really like it,” you say.

“Okay,” he responds.

A few beats later, he asks, out of sheer curiosity, “But you could buy it, right?”

You look up, a bit surprised, but you reply, “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says.

“Wouldn’t want to though,” you add.

“Fair enough,” he shrugs.

He isn’t really sure if he should leave the room, or if he should introduce himself, so he just stands there with the drink in his hand. He becomes all too aware of the precipitating water leaking around the rim of the cup and his fingers. He feels like he should place the drink down at before the cup slips past his fingers, so he does, and that somehow prompts you to sit.

He promptly takes a seat on the sofa adjacent to yours. You and he sit in silence, you nursing your drink just as he nurses his.

“I’m Miya, by the way.” He says after sitting silently for a bit. He finds that it’s nice — the silence, you look like you wanted it — but something prompts him to talk so he did. “Miya Osamu,” he clarifies. He always does.

“I know,” you say.

“You… do?” He asks, letting the confusion sit on his face, with a tilted head, and squinting eyes.

“Yeah,” you say, and he waits. A beat later, he realises that you are probably not going to elaborate.

“How come?” He asks, feeling a bit too curious for his liking.

“Hmm,” you say inquisitively. “So… you’re telling me you’re not the blonde guy dancing shirtless on top of a kitchen table,” you ask.

He looks confused but he peeks out the window, which displays another room in sight, one that has his brother, joyously, and drunkenly dancing atop a cluttered table to a crowd of people. The amusement in your tone is not very evidently present, but he supposes that makes it all the more amusing.

“Yeah,” he chuckles and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not me.”

“Right,” you smile. “Good to know.”

The two of you sit again in the gregarious silence as you take a sip of your drink and slump further into your chair, twisting a bit till you found a comfortable position.

“I could tell though,” you say after a few moments of silence, and he looks up at you again. “When you walked in,” you continue. “I could tell you weren’t Atsumu.”

“Could you?” He asks, interested again in this conversation, and in you.

“Yeah, I have had the pleasure of meeting Atsumu Miya, and you, well, you aren’t him.” He isn’t sure how to take it, he never is sure about that, but he decides to take it with grace per usual, as he prepares his words.

“You have a calmer quality to you,” you say before he could say anything.

He doesn’t say anything. He takes a sip of his drink, “You could tell that with… what? All of the 5 seconds I took to walk into the room?” He asks, earnestly.

“Yeah,” you respond almost instantaneously. He looks up at you now, and he finds that you’re staring at him.

“Okay,” he says.

You smile and go back to nursing your drink again. He continues to stare at you, and he sees a tinge of smudged makeup around your upper lip, but your hands are firm now as you take a sip of your drink. And he smiles, he thinks you look properly beautiful.

#osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x y/n #osamu x y/n #osamu miya x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #osamu miya x you #osamu miya x reader angst #meet cute with the one and only #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu fluff

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 months

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The Cactus (Killshot, Part 2.)

“Choices have consequences.” - Simon Riley, 2022

Description: The occupation as a member of SAS came with many restrictions and rules one had to follow to a dot. It could get even more intense for a soldier carrying a lot of trauma and not enough self-love, if any at all. Thank God, this lonely soldier meets a lonely florist one day, and as they say - animals have the best judge of character.

Part Summary: Simon never liked acting on a whim, but the mysterious flourish doesn't leave his thoughts, so he decides to break his habits. One day, he becomes a witness to Y/N's past catching up with her, which marks the beginning of their friendship.

A/N: I'm actually so insecure about this series, aaaaa. I haven't written anything in a year properly and I'm so afraid people won't like my iteration of Simon. However, there isn't much to base it off because not like we witness their day-to-day life in CoD anyway. Also, I'm going away for the next few days - chapter 3 is like 25 % finished, but I won't be able to work on it, so the next update should be here around Monday, Tuesday next week (Sunday if I'll clutch it). Sorry for the typos x.

Warnings: SIMON AND READER RIZZING EACH OTHER UP WITH ONE-LINERS (they cringe), both of them generally gushing over one another, and mentions of a past abusive relationship.

Word count: 6.1K

Tagging: @poohkie90

Master list: H E R E | Ghost's tapes: P L A Y L I S T

Throughout his life, for as long as he could remember, Simon Riley considered himself to be a person of habit. He preferred a dull, monotonous routine over living his days out carelessly and freely. If he wasn't one of the higher-ranking members of SAS, he'd probably settle for a repetitive job where there would be little to no surprise- he'd likely become an office worker. When talking about routine, of course, Simon didn’t count in his paperwork, deployments, basically all job-related activities or occasional hangouts with his friends, that happened infrequently anyway.

Simon wasn't always like this, no. Back when his old man had all five together, he was what you'd call 'a normal child'. Back then, they were a normal family.

Simon vaguely recalled a train he loved to play with, the warm feeling of safety that his mum's kisses on the forehead brought, the safety when he could play with Tommy, just running around in the park pretending to be a pilot. Naturally, that all went to bloody shit. His old man lost all of his marbles. When Simon finally left home, he promised himself he would take full control of his life. His comfort in routine was the result of his father’s A+ upbringing. It taught him many lessons, some of which kept Simon up at night even as a grown, 6'3 man; moments when he felt like he's unable to protect himself or those surrounding him. Due to his many psychological evaluations, profilings and talks with the military shrink, he knew all the feelings were irrational. He was trying to fight those feelings the best he could. Simon was a fucking ace when it came to his job, he was able of taking people out in sixty various ways, snipe from blocks away, feel someone's presence way before they'd move... And yet, his father, his father's leather belt and his father's exotic pets brought him to his knees years after everything had been said and done. If he were to slip into a comfortable, never-changing routine, he would have under full control, he wouldn’t have to be wary of unexpected pain or punches that bring him to the ground, make him feel small and weak. He wouldn't have to be afraid of his demons that much... Wouldn't have to be afraid of feeling like a little, helpless child.

Now, throughout his adulthood, his day-to-day routine was firmly given - hour after hour, Simon’s brain knew what his body should be doing and it followed the schedule to a dot. For fucks sake, he was the kind of person who went out to buy groceries every two days and even on days he didn’t have to buy anything, Simon walked to the shop for the sake of keeping up with his routine. Due to this part of him, he could be perceived as a bit of a nut job. Almost everyone who'd ever been inside his apartment called him a cleaning freak - while in reality, it was just easy to keep the flat tidy thanks to a firmly given schedule. Simon didn't mind his flat or himself getting messy, otherwise, he would go insane during deployment. He didn't mind getting down and dirty, he didn't mind getting his clothes ripped, he didn't mind getting his body covered in scars if it meant the mission's success. It just meant that every day at 7 p.m., Simon did the dishes and disinfected most of the surfaces inside his house. He couldn't recall a day when he'd have dust in his flat except for when he came home from deployment. The fact that Simon owned little to no decoration inside his flat meant he didn't have to fiddle-faddle with dust catchers. First thing every morning? Putting on his baklava so he wouldn’t punch the mirror while looking at his reflection; followed closely behind with setting a kettle on the stove to get the tea going. Simon also had periodical tasks, as he named them - buying shoes every six months, and wardrobe renewal every three months.

His life was just a big scheme of periodically repeating tasks in which revelled. No surprises, no pain, no belittling - just Simon taking the reigns over his life.

However, something changed after Johnny and Cassie's proposal dinner. He couldn't point his finger at what it was, but his routine was missing something. And it was bugging Simon the fuck off. When Simon let his mind wander about, he caught himself going back to meeting the florist, Y/N as she introduced herself. His mind was considerate enough to let him play the memories again and again; all the alien feelings as they brewed inside his chest, him not being able to vocalize it, him not being able to speak properly when she looked at him. A hint of interest in her eyes as she realized why he accompanied Johnny. The flame of her warmth surrounding each action, word and expression. The tone of her voice, the fact that she was gorgeous... Simon had to see her again. He needed to talk to her again, ask her out if he'd find the courage.

Truth be told, he wasn't a stranger to hookups and attempts at getting into a relationship. Problems came when Simon tried to open up. The problems came after the act had ended. A one-night stand was fun enough until the girl asked if he'd like breakfast or if he'd like to repeat it someday. Simon loved the intimacy something as simple as sex could bring, he enjoyed the passionate emotions and friction of bodies... Until consequences came. Until the 'next morning' hit him right in his gut. Until he woke up next to them, seeing them sleep. Until he quickly put on his clothes and ran off like a scared little boy.

When it came to establishing a relationship, whether emotional or strictly physical, was when problems started to arrive... And never stopped coming. The last time he gave into giving this a try was four years ago. This experience kept him from dating ever since. His longest relationship? Half a fucking year, ended up with him getting deployed. Frankly, Simon started to feel very strongly about the lass he was seeing, he even planned on asking her to move in, he wanted to tell her he loved her. As he came to see her with a flower in his hand, some naked bozo answered the door. Naturally, actions spoke faster than words, so he packed a solid fucking punch. Needless to say, he hadn't seen Erica since. Not that he was sad about it, he was just brokenhearted and upset.

But you... Simon had never felt this strongly about anyone when meeting them for the first time, not even Erica made him as flustered and overtaken with emotion as you did. Trying to meet you, however, brought needed changes to his routine. Consciously pushing against the order set in his life was an enormous, almost unrealistic task. On the other hand, he was doing it for a good reason - if this meant he would be able to see you, he was willing to risk the restlessness that breaking the stereotype brought. On top of this, it was a well-known fact that working on administration outside the office greatly improved one’s overall mood. Or, so Price advised him.

Also, Simon was well aware that using the phrase ‘seeing you’ wasn’t fitting - he’d never gotten as far as making a contact. He started slowly - frequenting the cafe opposing Rosemary’s to scout out the terrain. He even noticed its name, Grind On. That made him chuckle. The man started taking notice of your presence in the shop - the very periodic nature of your shifts didn’t seem to change, which brought some relief and comfort; he’d be able to set a routine around this. Soon, he found himself sitting in the café every Monday, Wednesday and Friday to match your schedule; over time, he’d found himself a dead angle within the café in which none of the other guests could read the paperwork he was going through. The table was placed directly opposite the entrance to Rosemary’s, so Simon could watch as you created hundreds of bouquets over the span of getting used to his new way of living.

Even going out as frequently made him feel a tiny bit better, being around people as often was always alien to Simon, but simply letting life flow around him was making him feel easier. Not everyone was after his throat, not everyone stared at him as if they were about to shit their pants. No. To most people, Simon was just 'that rando they met on the street'. After some time, the baristas remembered his face (in a way) and his order (plain breakfast tea with a muffin, sometimes the soup of the day if he was feeling courageous) and started treating him as a regular, mainly a young bloke named Jason and a middle-aged woman named Anne. No more weird looks at his baklava, no more fear in their eyes. Just pleasantries. They even started asking him about his plans, his day, his mood, his job. Simon rarely gave in to the small talk, but it made him smile. He'd even go as far as to nod at the other regulars before putting his laptop onto the table, and plugging it in. Other times, Simon would bring a book or the newspaper. His eyes were on you the entire time, though. Oftentimes, he felt like an agent on a tailing mission, as if he was observing the suspect from afar, trying to gather intel. He had to reason with himself, telling himself his intention wasn't to pry, let alone stalk you - he just needed time to figure out how to approach you. He hadn’t got anyone to buy flowers for, which complicated the situation a fair share.

On Mondays, he’d take his favourite spot in the café in the early morning, watching you open up the shop. Each time, you were accompanied by Bonnie, who ran after you happily, barking as you teased her with a smile. Simon noticed that Bonnie’s collars switched frequently - sometimes, you’d tie an enormous plushy ribbon around her neck, other times it was a stylish bandana collar, and sometimes you picked the traditional, singular colour collar. Ghost found this habit of yours utterly cute, and soon, he realized he was looking forward to what collar Bonnie would be wearing next time. On Wednesdays, he’d come two hours before your shift was ending, making sure everything would go smoothly. There was never a singular hiccup throughout the month of his observations, he had to admit. On Fridays, he’d usually just drop by around noon to simply… Look at you, afore you from afar. Simon always had a keen eye, it was a requirement when it came to his job, and was a patient observer. He liked the way you always waved at leaving customers or measured the flowers’ length using your eyes only, always cutting off the exact length which needed to be cut.

As Cassie said, you were talking to the flowers a whole lot - each time, when the bouquet was near completion, you’d push your face next to the flower, whispering sweet nothings. As he watched you, oftentimes fiddling with his teaspoon, Simon caught himself daydreaming. What if he was your bouquet? What would you whisper in his ear if you'd get the chance? Would your fingers run across his jawline with matching subtlety, setting his body ablaze? Would it turn you as much as the thought turned him on? Could the two of you perhaps have some fun with the ribbons you use in your bouquets all the time? How would it look like if you’d wove it into your hair and Simon was the one to slowly pull the strands out one by one? How would it look and feel tying your wrists together? As soon as the clothes started disappearing in his imagination, Simon had to snap himself out of the trance. Thanks to this, he bent more than three teaspoons. The baristas usually laughed it off and brought him another one, and thank God they couldn't see how heavily Simon blushed under the mask.

His favourite moments, however, were those in between - the small moments during which he went on a smoke break and managed to listen to some of your music. Yea, it was still fucking tacky, but the tunes were starting to grow on Simon. A few times, he even caught himself pulling his phone out just to let Shazam search for the mysterious tune. There was a regular pattern traceable in your music choices. It was closely tied to the type of order you've got. Each type had its assigned playlist and thanks to that, Simon started to understand the habits and recurring phenomenons in your work. On some days, the oldies blasted through the flower shop as you waltzed through it with Bonnie hot on your heels, laughing while putting the flowers together - those were usually assigned for lovers, for dates and overall happy occasions. On other days, slow ballads and nonsensical love songs played, which usually meant you were working on wedding bouquets or big-event-type bouquets, just like Johnny's proposal bouquet. Simon genuinely hated it when you got a gig for funerals or other ceremonies similar to it - the shop remained silent - Simon noticed you usually didn’t even turn on most of the fairy lights at your disposal. Your mood dropped and the happy antics disappeared as you tied the flowers together, making sure they were honourable enough.

As per usual by that point, this happened on a Friday, and Simon sat at his favourite spot. There was a chai latté in front of him (he started to love the flavour of cinnamon harmonizing with the rest of the blend as well as the drink sending a wave of warmth through his entire body) along with a chocolate muffin. He just got back in and Anne was on his ass… That was sweet of her. As Simon looked up to nod her way, the barista just winked back with a knowing smile. The mood was good and you didn't have a lot of orders per se, but you had enough traffic to still make profits - Simon just back from his smoke break, hearing a hypnotizing love song playing inside the flower shop when a customer opened the door. Before picking the book off the table, he turned his head in your direction, expecting that you'd be walking the gentleman through what the flowers meant, helping to pick out the best combination. Instead, you were giving the customer a deadpan, frozen behind the counter, your expression devoid of any emotion. The man was clearly talking to you, gesturing heatedly and Simon didn’t have to go far to conclude he was most likely yelling his lungs out at you. ... better than her mum, anyway.

The words rang through Simon’s head as you finally took in a breath, yelling right back at the guy with matching intensity, shoving him out of the door. This was all Simon needed to see - he started packing his stuff, giving Anne the total and left a generous tip before he walked outside the shop. While you walked behind back onto the counter, falling onto it while your fists grabbed onto your hair as you gasped for air, the guy stared through the door at you. A moment later, he turned on his heels to leave the place. Simon was faced with a challenge - either he could go and comfort you (which would finally get him the chance to talk to you) or tail the guy, finding out a bit about him. Maybe even to have a chat with him. Against his better judgment, Simon's body moved on its own as soon as the mysterious man started walking towards Soho.

Simon genuinely didn't know for how long he tailed the guy - he watched him get into a double-decker in the centre, leaving while memorizing which route this number took. Simon was thinking about following him and getting on the bus as well, but the image of you being distressed was burdening him. Who even was the guy? Your boyfriend? Were you seeing someone? Honestly, Simon didn't consider this possibility beforehand. God, what if you were seeing someone and he'd come across as a perv and a stalker? Or... Could it be the one troubling you? Could he just be a rude customer? Could he be trying to wreak havoc in your daily life?

Fifteen minutes later, Simon was standing in front of Rosemary’s again. He fought himself for a long time before he entered the shop - as to be expected, you were nowhere to be seen, the tunes were playing silently, tuned down to a mere whisper. Because the door to the employees' facility was cracked open, it didn’t take Bonnie long enough to poke her head out with curiosity - and once more, as soon as her eyes landed on Simon, she was ready on her feet and running right to him. The adoration in her eyes made him chuckle as he mirrored Johnny’s actions; he leaned down to pick her up, scratching the sweet spot behind her ears. This ruckus was enough to lure you out as well.

Simon’s heart nearly broke when he saw your puffy eyes - suddenly, all the energy was gone, there was no warmer to be found and no smiles to be given. “I’m so sorry. I’m on my break and forgot to lock the door. Could you perhaps come in fifteen…” - You started, still drying your eyes with a napkin. When you actually looked at the newcomer, you were visibly caught off guard... Simon hoped it wasn't the bad kind of surprise, but your expression made him sure it wasn't the case. Some of your warmth started to come back as you smiled gently. - “Ghost.” - Was all you whispered. You didn’t need to say much more, because even the endearing tone of your voice made Simon grin sheepishly, his heart doing a backflip in his chest.

“I can come back in fifteen. It’s not a problem.” “Really? I'd appreciate that, you’d be a sweetheart… My day isn’t going too well and I need a bit to pull my shit back together.” - You sighed, rolling your eyes upon going back to the encounter with your ex-boyfriend. He refused to give up, still claiming some fucked up form of ownership over you - the next time he’ll swing by to hit you with his bullshit, you were sure your hand will slip and you’ll slap him… Or worse, kill him or something. You’ve never considered yourself to be a violent person, but Billy was bringing out the worst of you, awakening some dark fucking demons inside you each time he dared to even break... Especially after all he had done. Simon, on the other hand, was enamoured with the nickname - he'd be a fucking sweetheart. Just the nickname alone weakened Simon’s knees, putting a boyish smile on his lips. His brain flashed around three million different scenarios during which you could call him sweetheart too, making his breath hitch a little.

“Mhm.” - Simon hummed as if it was obvious he'd do as you asked, waiting for his voice to regain its footing. Then, he reached out his palm in your direction. - “I’ll take this pretty girl out for a walk if that’s fine with you.” At first, your reaction to the offer wasn't clear - a furrow appeared on your face, looking him up and down with suspicion. All the tension was erased when you snickered, shaking your head. Within the next minute, you were giving Simon Bonnie's leash. Simon didn’t really expect you to comply, but it made him a bit more sure of his footing. You clearly trusted him enough to take care of your dog for fifteen minutes; whatever you thought of him, it had to be positive.

“Look at her. Barely half a year old and she’s already getting all the nice guys to herself. She’ll grow up to be a heartbreaker, mark my words.” - Giving Simon the leash, you walked to the duo to pet Bonnie as well. You’ve pressed a small bag into his palm as well - it was filled to the brim with various dog treats, snacks and small plastic bags for poop.

“Honestly, would you be able to resist these eyes? Just look at the lass.” - The man let slip par his slips, utterly enamoured by your beauty as he kept staring at you. Thankfully, you were too busy kissing the top of Bonnie’s head to notice the way he stared at you. “Hey, Y/N?” “Hm?” “Is there anything I can do for you? Would you wanna… Talk about it, perhaps? It could help you take your mind off things.” - Simon wondered, the question slipping past his lips on its own. You were paying him full attention now, locking your gaze with his. It almost looked like you were internally debating over whether to tell Simon what happened or not, but then you shook your head with one of the sweetest smiles anyone had ever given to him. - “It’s just petty personal bullshit, nothing I can’t deal with on my own. Anyway… You two should go now, you’re disturbing an artist at work.”

There she was - the girl Simon daydreamed about for the last couple of weeks. Even though you didn’t confide in him, his offer clearly made you feel easier. The light was slowly coming back to your eyes, your smile was melting away the ice surrounding his chest, and your warmth was making Simon feel better about himself. You talked to him precisely like you did to Johnny - as if you were the oldest of friends bumping into each other, just chatting about.

“On our merry way, ma’am.” - Simon saluted just to make you laugh. After, he put Bonnie on the ground, making sure the leash is locked onto her collar properly. As he heard you chuckle while he closed the door, he smiled to himself too. - “See you in a bit, you two! Give him hell, Bon Bon!”

As Simon promised, he took Bonnie for a walk around the block of various shops, and Asian restaurants mixed into residential buildings. Because of Bonnie and her curious, friendly nature, Simon was suddenly the target of attention - a 6'3 man with a mask on his face walking around with a 6-month-old puppy of an Austrian shepherd with an enormous lime green ribbon around its neck sure made a lot of head turn around. Even though the duo walked pretty slowly, they still had some time to stop by Grind On, picking up chai latté and baked goods for. When Anne noticed Bonnie resting in Simon's arms, sniffing his baklava happily, she gasped as if he unravelled a secret.

“So that’s how it is! This makes a whole lot of sense.” - Anne murmured with a sheepish smile while working on the order - two chai lattés and a whole selection of baked goods; he knew you'd die for Grind On's croissants, but that couldn't be all you liked, right? Simon's eyebrows raised upon Anne's excitement, waiting for her to explain the mental gymnastics behind whatever she concluded. - “That’s why you’re here so often! That’s just adorable!” “What is?” - Simon deadpanned. “You’re coming here regularly often because you like to watch your girlfriend at work, what a lucky gal. Honestly, Y/N is one of the sweetest people working on the same block as us and she deserves to have a gentleman in her life, she’s got enough letdowns already. Don’t you think you can deceive me, darling, I know this sweet little girl all too well, right, Bonnie?” - Anne explained, gushing over how adorable Bonnie was. Her words caught Simon off guard. He, indeed, loved watching you work. And Anne calling you his girlfriend sounded so heavenly, but…

“She, ugh… Y/N isn’t my… She’s a friend of my friend. I just like this café, s’all.” - Simon uttered against his will, having Anne looking at him with a slight furrow. Her expression slowly grew gentler and gentler, turning into a motherly smile at the end as if she knew something Simon didn’t. It was precisely all the words Simon didn’t say out loud that told Anne everything she needed to know.

"I see. I hope you'll get the courage to tell her soon, then. It's like watching the beginning of a romance movie." - The woman whispered wickedly and winked at the duo. Simon nodded without a word, watching Anne put some extra goods into the paper bag. You deserved a gentleman. You've had enough letdowns in your life. What if Simon was a letdown? What if he wouldn't be what you deserved - what if you wouldn't accept his careful advances in the first place? He's been so into you that he hadn't stopped to think if you could be interested in him... And due to the small number of your interactions, Simon couldn't base his stance on anything. He basically didn't know you, he spent a month gushing about a stranger. He could ask Cassie about you, about what you've been like and what you're looking for... But that would give him away immediately.

As he put Bonnie back onto the ground, he was furrowing, being lost in his thoughts - not for long, though. You've seemingly got your shit together and started working on another order - there was a little boy standing in front of the counter, watching you with his mouth open. "Ghost!" - You exclaimed happily, smiling from ear to ear. Bonnie, as the little she-devil she was, ran to you immediately to totter around your feet. - "Was the walk nice, Bon Bon? I bet it was, yeah? Yeah." - The tone of your voice pitched as you leaned down to greet your dog, letting her lick your chin a few times.

It took just a moment to finish up the flower - the boy paid you 5 pounds for a singular red rose, all the decorations being counted in. "The rose wasn't worth only five quid, was it?" - Simon wondered. "Come on, be a romantic. He was about to ask his crush out, what monster would I be to stand in the way of young love?" "Right. You'll rather go broke." "Exactly, that's the spirit." - You bounced back immediately, pointing at the enormous paper bag in his palm. Without hesitation, Simon gave it to you to let you peek inside. As soon as you noticed all the goods, your expression froze a bit. That had to be worth at least fifty to sixty quid. - "What's that for?" "I asked Anne for three croissants, but as soon as she spotted Bon, she filled it to the brim." "Are you a regular in Grind On?" - You wondered. "Started frequenting it after tasting the chai latté you recommended. Couldn't shake it out of my head, I hadn't tasted anything like that before. Also, Soho is really nice at this time of year."

For a bit, neither of you said a word. Your eyes locked onto one another, your breath hitched and got irregular. Simon noticed that you shivered, pushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. Only if he'd know how flustered you were - your entire face was flushed, you had to battle the corner of your lips just so you wouldn't smile like a freaking idiot. You couldn't get him out of your head. The mysterious Ghost guy accompanying Cassie's fiancé on the day of their proposal, you couldn't forget how much he didn't belong in the flower shop. The first moment he walked in you knew that he wasn't feeling too good about the place, so you didn't want to intrude by prying information out of him. The warm, intense gaze of his eyes made you smile each time you recalled it. Usually, you'd stop anything you've been doing so you could giggle and fluster; at that point, you had to remind yourself that you were a grown, independent woman - not a crushing high-schooler. You hadn't even seen his face, for fuck's sake. On the other hand... The sound of his voice made your heart skip a beat each time he spoke. When they left the shop, you watched them disappear in the distance for as long as you could, wondering if you'd ever see him again.

As to be expected, you asked Cassie about him the next time you got together for a coffee. You were desperately trying to lure any sort of information out of her, but she didn't budge. She explained that Ghost was particularly vigilant about sharing pieces of his life, keeping his private life very private. The two had known each other for almost a year and there was a lot she didn't know about him - according to her, Cassie didn't believe that Johnny would know that much more than her. What Cassie did know, however, she didn't share out of sheer respect for their friendship. You respected her decision, not prying any further. All she gave you were vague assumptions - that Ghost was in his late twenties, that he'd been born and raised in the UK and that he'd joined the military fairly young. She also asked if you'd like to get his number, but you didn't accept - if Ghost would like you to have his number, he was the one to give it to you.

And now, Ghost was there, with you. Standing in front of you. Bringing you brewing hot chai latté and a horde of baked goods, just like he did before. You couldn't be sure, but you prayed this was his love language - because any guy before him was able to make you flustered by simply looking your way. Trying to act casual about how you stared at him, you cleared your throat and put the bag away with a gracious smile.

"I hope you'll have some with me, then, this would last me a week at least." "I had my share earlier in the afternoon, thank you, though." "Ah, I see." - You whispered, the disappointment clear in your face. At least you thought it had to be. - "What can I do for you? Anything on your mind? Can I tie you a special flower for a special girl? A girlfriend, perhaps?" - You wondered, trying to act professionally about it while you prayed his response would be that there is no girlfriend.

"That's strange." - The man uttered under his breath, chuckling with disbelief. This took you by surprise, making you chuckle as well. - "That's the second time today someone assumed I'm shopping for a girlfriend." "And... Are you?" "No." - Simon deadpanned matter-of-factly. - "There's no girlfriend to shop for." - He explained, making you giddy up a bit. Bonnie was now running around the two of you, laying on her back so you'd pet her - but you were unable to take your eyes off the man. These eyes, man, they were beautiful.

"What are you looking for, then? Would it be bold to assume you're shopping for a flower?" "I actually am." "You're in the right place then, I can walk you through everything you'd need to know about them. What kind of flower are you looking for?" "I'd hope so, you're a florist." - Simon muttered under his breath. First, it came across as a rude comment - when he flickered his eyes at you, you realized he was trying to joke around. Naturally, you grinned and shook your head. - "The windowsill in my flat looks a bit bland, decided it's time to liven it up. The problem is that I'm not a flower guy."

"I'd assume so, you're not the one who studied to get this position." - you reiterated, shooting right back at Simon. You could see the baklava shift on his face, so you assumed he was smiling. "You know what one flower said to the other when it was asking for a chance?" - You mumbled as you started to figure out what would be appropriate for Ghost - you knew he and Johnny were military, and Cassie confided that they often got deployed. It had to be a flower that could go without regular watering for months, but it would also have to be something that wouldn't mold easily. Simon watched you move closer and closer to succulents, caught off guard by the question.

"Come on, Ghost. It's a good one, I promise, don't make me feel like a dud." - You mumbled impatiently when he was silent for far too long. - "You know what one flower said to the other when it was asking for a chance?" "No idea." "Don't worry, love, I'll grow on ya." - You finished with a wicked grin on your face, waiting for Simon to process the joke - as soon as he realized what you just did., the man let out a chuckle. It came across as if he did his best to suppress it, because this joke was one of the corniest he'd heard - the only person with even worse jokes was MacTavish himself. "You're one of these, huh?" "It's a good joke, come on." "Never said it isn't." - Simon muttered quietly, feeling a big smile breaking out on his face, no matter how much he fought it. A cute, beautiful florist with flower puns and one-liners? With each passing second, you were getting better and better, almost too good to be true.

"There she is." - You mumbled, pulling out a small round cacti. - "It's a cactus usually recommended to beginners, so no need to be worried here. This small lady is a part of Echinopsis, a cacti group native to South America. This one is from Argentina specifically, so it prefers warmer temperatures and a lot of sunlight, perfect for a windowsill." "Why did you go for this one specifically?" "Because it's very well known for its dramatic buds. And you strike me as someone who secretly revels in drama." "That was cold." - Ghost rebutted immediately, amusement clearly audible in his voice. "... Also because it prefers sandy soil and can go without water for a fair share of time. As long as you leave it in sunlight and don't let it freeze to death, it should easily wait until you get back from deployment." - You finished, flustering and looking away. It had to be obvious you memorized every last bit of detail about Ghost, no? There wasn't much you'd know about him, but you remembered a thing here and there.

"It's perfect for me, then." - Simon agreed, carefully taking the cactus from your palm to give it a look. He quite liked it, it was very small and cute. - "Were you joking about the buds?" "No, this cactus' buds are enormous and colourful. Haven't met a person who wouldn't like the look of it." "I'll take it, then. Have you heard flowers are capable of kissing, by the way?" "They're what?" - You snickered back as you prepared the cactus for his new home - you'd packed everything Simon might need as someone new to owning a plant. "Yeah, they have Tulips." - Simon added matter-of-factly. At first, you deadpanned at him before you shook your head in disbelief. "And you were judging me for liking flower puns?" "Hadn't ever said I didn't like flower puns. What's the total?"

Without putting any numbers into the register, you put a fancy paper bag in front of Simon. It had everything he might need - fresh soil, a bigger flower pot, a small scapula to help him re-plant the cactus once it grows bigger. "It's on the house." "Not in a million years. What's the total?" "The total is: it's on the house, Ghost. I don't a single dime." "Y/N, come on." "Take it as my way of paying you back for making sure Grind On won't have any baked goods to sell during their afternoon shift." "That's how it is?" - Ghost snickered with amusement. You've been clearly assuming you're the dispute going your way, so you nodded proudly. "That's how it is, sir." "I'll take it as a prepay for the next delivery, then." - Simon informed you as if you didn't have a say in this, earning a gentle smile from you. The light inside your eyes intensified as you looked at the man with adoration, pushing your palms into the pockets of your jeans just so you wouldn't start playing with your fingers excitedly.

"Will you come to see me again?" "Affirmative, ma'am." - The man breathed out, feeling his heartbeat picking up as he realized you'd been excited about him dropping by. "I better look up some military jokes so we can make fun of your occupation too." "Got one to get you going." "I'm listening." - You alluded, leaning closer to Ghost. "Why are there no insects around the base?" "Why aren't the insects there?" "It's a no-fly zone." - Simon finished and after you scoffed, he jokingly saluted, turning around to leave the shop. That was when you called out his name, so he'd halt and look over to you. "I'm really looking forward to seeing you again." - Ghost was searching for any sign of irony in your expression, for anything that would lead him to believe that you weren't being serious with him. But there were none. The man didn't answer, he simply nodded and lowered his head before walking out - something led you to believe that his cheeks turned bright pink under the baklava, but you'd only seen it for a second, so it could be just a hallucination.

#simon riley cod #simon riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley #here we gooo #we thinking about spicy spicy already #call of duty #call of duty: modern warfare #cod mw #killshot series #no johnny this time sadly #but don't u worry #i plan great things for johnny and the reader #just you wait #they will be the chaotic trio along with cass ofc #bonnie shaping out to be a thicc legend #i do love this dog with my life

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