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deepspacedukat · 7 months

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The Only One - Part 7: Immoral Comfort

Welp...Part 7, here we are. This is the part I started way before I even wrote Part 1, because I was in a Mood™. I originally thought this was going to be a 3 part story, but it looks like it's gonna be something closer to 12. Tbh, I didn't expect anyone to be interested in this fic because it was such a niche, back-of-the-brain thought. So, thank you to everyone who's made it this far with me and taken the time to leave comments!

I know it's been forever since I updated this, but I hope there are at least a few people who are still interested. I had a very specific way that I wanted things to happen in this chapter and I was being a little too picky about the details, so my apologies for the delay! If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist, please let me know!

*Dominionese language pulled from @dominionese-resource and their Dominionese dictionary. If you want me to clarify where I got certain words or phrases, or how I tried (clumsily) to piece them together myself, please feel free to ask. I probably conjugated a few verbs incorrectly or structured things wrong in places, but I tried. Also, the signature mentioned was based off this post on their blog.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

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Weyoun (ST:DS9) x Reader

[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies sex, Vorta/Human sex, fingering, jealous Dukat, drunkenness, romantic Weyoun, telepathic/empathic connection, mild existential crisis, crying, sorta hurt/comfort? but mostly just stress/comfort, spoilers for S6E4 "Behind the Lines."

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Nearly a month passed from that long, odd day when I met Keevan and his men. I hated having to conceal part of my motives from Weyoun, but I didn’t have much of a choice. There was no way in hell I’d sit idly by while the Changelings took over my home. Major Kira, Odo, and a few others had begun a small resistance cell aboard the station, and so that they wouldn’t jeopardize my mission or I theirs, Kira had ordered me not to attend meetings. I was to keep my ears open and report to her as usual. She was allowing me to help but only in minor ways. Yes, it was important to cause chaos for the Dominion while they were occupying the station, but a position of influence and confidence like I currently held was insanely important for the intelligence gathering task that Starfleet had given me. Hell, I didn’t even know who all the members were.

That was definitely for the best. With the intimacy of the connection that Weyoun and I shared, my lack of knowledge kept myself and the rest of the resistance members safe. I’d have to be content helping in my own little way. Thus far, Dukat trusted me almost as much as Weyoun did, and Damar was slowly coming around to the belief that I wasn’t his enemy. All I had to do now was keep it up and find a way to contact Starfleet Command. Discreetly.

Seated beside each other one evening, Weyoun and I worked on our respective reports. I wasn’t particularly curious about the file he was reading until he picked up a stylus and wrote something. It was an odd group of symbols and marks that I’d never seen before. Without much thought about how rude it probably was, I tilted my head and watched how fluidly his fingers drew the stylus across the data PADD.

“What is that?” I asked quietly, and Weyoun gave me a perplexed look.

“A report about troop movements...?”

“Oh, not the report, I mean this,” I said pointing to the symbols he’d drawn out beneath the final paragraph. A look of understanding washed over him, and he gave me a small smile.

“That is my signature,” he answered simply, and I felt my eyes widen. “Have you not seen Dominionese written out before?”

“I’ve barely heard Dominionese, much less seen it. Is that really your name?” I asked unable to keep the wonder from my voice. I examined the markings a bit more carefully, wondering what each meant in order to form a name as precious as his.

Weyoun set the data PADD aside, picked up an empty one, and wrote the symbols a little neater this time. I watched the way his stylus glided over the PADD’s surface in practiced, fluid movements. When he was finished, he tilted the screen toward me to show me his handiwork, and I couldn’t stop a smile from splitting my lips. The more I looked at the symbols, the harder it became to shake the feeling that I’d seen something like them before.

The pendant! I pulled it out from beneath the collar of my uniform and sure enough, the symbols were similar. The engravings were in Dominionese.

“Weyoun, the pendant you gave me...what does it say?”

“Would you like me to tell you, or would you like me to teach you to read it yourself?” He asked with a twinkle in his eyes, and I felt myself perk up at the implication.

“Would you? I-I mean, are you willing to teach me? I know you’re busy with the station and the war, so I understand if you don’t have the time–” He cut me off with a quick kiss and set the PADD aside as he took my hands in his.

“My dear, I would be honored to teach you the language of your people,” Weyoun murmured. “I’m sure you’ll take to it quite easily. You’ve always been a fast learner, at least from what I’ve seen.”

‘My people.’ Both of us knew they weren’t anything of the sort after what they’d done, but I still appreciated his sentiment. Besides, the hope that he held about a potential reconciliation between myself and the Changelings, while utterly futile, was also incredibly sweet. After all that he'd been through, the fact that he still had hope was just a testament to the strength that the Founders chose not to see in their Vorta followers.

Giving his hands a gentle squeeze, I looked up at the gorgeous purple-eyed being on my sofa. How in the stars did I get so lucky?

Purple blush spread quickly across his cheeks, and Weyoun let out a shy little laugh. Right, the feelings. It had become more natural over the duration of our relationship for us to share our emotions through the strange telepathic connection we'd been granted, but there were still moments where it caught one or both of us off guard.

"As much as I wish I could keep you all to myself tonight and demonstrate exactly how much I adore you, didn't you say you were meeting a friend tonight?" His question pulled me from my reverie, and I blinked in comprehension.

“Computer, what time is it?”

“The time is eighteen-thirty hours,” it responded, and I got to my feet. Shit, he was right, and I was going to be late at this rate.

“Meeting Damar again?” Weyoun asked as he stood, too, and grasped my waist lightly. When I nodded my head, he gave me a gentle smile. “I’m so glad you’re making more friends. I know you were already acquainted with some of the Bajoran officers, but knowing that Keevan and Damar along with some of their officers have become close to you...I’m overjoyed! To tell you the truth, I thought you might feel isolated here given the personnel changes. I-I thought...you might regret staying.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I wrapped my arms around the Vorta’s neck.

“Well, I still feel a little out of place at times, but there are a few people here who’ve been kind to me," I murmured placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. "For the record, you make staying here worth it. As long as I have you, I won't regret leaving Starfleet."

I knew this was only temporary - that as soon as the Federation regained control of the station I'd be back to being a Starfleet officer - but I was going to make the most of this while I could. Sure, I still had my mission and a very important job to do, but I wasn't about to waste my opportunity to soak in Weyoun's presence while I could.

A beautiful, joyful smile stretched his lips, and he pressed his forehead lightly against mine.

"Good, because running this station and protecting Bajor for the Dominion...it would be mind-numbingly dull without you, my dear." That brought a smile to my own lips, but probably for different reasons than he would've anticipated. The Founders would likely have blown a gasket hearing that one of their Vorta toys was bored with the job they'd been created to perform. If that wasn't proof that the Vorta were capable of being so much more than the Changelings thought, I didn't know what was. "Don't be late, now. I'll be here when you get back."

I nodded my head quietly and gave him a tender, parting kiss before making my way toward Quark's.

The Bajoran station was humming with the partially-exhausted crowds that naturally accompanied the end of a shift. Used to the tired throng of people either going for a meal or heading back to their quarters, I used a few of the back corridors - less-traveled areas, of course - to make up some time.

Rather quickly, I found myself slipping into the doorway to the Ferengi's bar and zeroing in on the seat that was held for me out of habit by Dukat's right hand man. Without preamble, I plopped myself on the padded stool and gave a polite nod to the Cardassian in question.

"I was wondering when you'd get here. Usually you're early," Damar said as he brought his glass of kanar to his lips. He seemed in unusually high spirits tonight. Either something minor and gossip-worthy had happened, or I should be very concerned about the state of the war.

"There was a lot of foot traffic tonight. Apparently everyone decided this was the night to be in my way," I said with a dismissive giggle. Quark caught my eye and nodded in acknowledgement. "You look like the cat that got the cream, Glinn. What's got you in such a good mood?"

The Ferengi bartender set my drink in front of me with a wink - I knew for a fact that he flirted with all the patrons who wouldn't kill him in the hopes that he'd get a bigger tip - but before he could leave, Damar's hand landed on his forearm.

"Anything the Lieutenant drinks tonight is on me. This is a celebration," the Glinn said with a smug smirk. Looking at him in surprise, I lifted my glass of kanar in salute.

"Why, thank you, Glinn. If I may ask, what's the occasion?" He tapped his glass against mine, and after we both took a generous swallow - clearly not his first of such this evening - he turned to face me on his stool.

"My impending promotion!" He said puffing up his armor-covered chest.

Uh oh.

"Wait a minute," Quark cut in as he polished a glass, "you started a fight in my bar and they're making you a Gul? What kind of way is that to run an army?"

Weyoun had mentioned the fight only a couple of days before. Apparently, it had been between Cardassian officers and Jem'Hadar soldiers. Quark's concern was completely valid. How the hell did that track?

"Dukat wasn't happy about what happened," Damar started refilling his glass and topping mine off, even though I'd only taken a single sip. "I had to find a way to make it up to him."

"I hope it was something big," Quark chimed in.

"Must've been a hell of a blowjob," I teased, and the tipsy Cardassian let out a raucous laugh.

"Nothing so personal. Let's just say it will change the course of history," he said before draining his glass once more. Quark's eyes met mine. This reeked of trouble.

"As a businessman," the Ferengi started, refilling the Glinn's glass himself, "I'm very interested in the course of history. This one's on me."

Damar accepted the drink with a nod and a raised glass.

"That's very kind of you, Quark, but I can't talk about it." Down the hatch went that drink, and I sipped slowly at mine as I formed a plan. Quark looked over at me, and sighed as he grabbed a third glass.

"Of course, I understand. Have another," he offered, refilling Damar's drink, topping up mine, and pouring one for himself. I'd never imbibed heavily before, but there was a first time for everything.

Making our way to Kira's quarters while intoxicated was more difficult that I'd anticipated. Not only did I have to keep myself upright, but I had to try and steady Quark as well. The dirty bastard's hand roamed several times, but a threat to remove them at the wrist seemed to sober him up just enough for him to process how bad of an idea it had been.

We were practically dragged into the Major's quarters when we got there, having seemingly stumbled our way into a meeting of her resistance group. So much for me not knowing who was involved. She'd clearly bet on the probability of me forgetting the night's events by the morning, otherwise she wouldn't have let me in at all.

After several rambling attempts at conversation, Quark got a little agitated, and Kira tried to drag him back on course.

"How can I relax when there are thousands of Jem'Hadar ships are sitting on the other side of the wormhole, waiting to come through?" He slurred, and Jake shook his head, trying to placate him.

"Don't worry about it. They're stuck there." He sounded so confident - so naïvely certain.

"Noooo, Jake. They're coming," I said, clutching at his arm as if I could make the young man understand. "If Damar was telling the truth, they'll be able to get through soon."

"What are you talking about?" Kira asked, and together we managed a somewhat intelligible, if slurred, explanation of what happened. Odo and Kira shared a look, and I was ordered to head back to my quarters.

How I got back, though, was a mystery to everyone, myself included. All I recalled the next morning was the vague impression of Weyoun helping me into clean clothes and letting me cuddle him until I fell asleep.

I really hoped that I'd dreamed saying how pretty he was so many times. He deserved to know he was handsome, but I didn't exactly want to sound like such a moron when conveying that to him.

Gentle lips against my cheek brought me back to consciousness in the morning, and I burrowed farther into my lover's embrace. My head ached and everything felt dry and scratchy and too loud.

No wonder I heard so many people warning about how strong kanar was. If this is how it felt the morning after, I was quite happy never to taste that syrupy shit again.

"Come, my love. It's time to get up," Weyoun crooned in a gentle, careful whisper. An involuntary groan escaped me, and he ran his fingers softly through my hair. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts. I have something that'll help, though."

"I don't think even your gorgeous cock can fix this," I rasped as I forced myself to sit up - an utterly monumental task in that state.

"As honored as I am that you view me as a potential cure to many ailments, I was talking about this," he said reaching for a hypospray sitting on the bedside table. "It'll take away the majority of your symptoms."

I tried to nod my head, but it just ended with me wincing and lying back down. A quiet hiss sounded against my upper arm, and a few moments later, the pain melted away as if Weyoun's fingers trailing over my scalp had behaved like a poultice, absorbing the Evil Hangover straight from the source.

Featherlight kisses landed on my closed eyelids, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief at the sensation.

"I take it you and Damar had fun last night?" He teased, and I groaned.

"For your own health, never ever try to match drinks with a Cardassian soldier." I cautioned, but before I could say more, the comm system chimed.

"Dukat to Weyoun. There is an urgent meeting in thirty minutes. Bring the Lieutenant with you. She'll want to be a part of this." He didn't wait for a response, simply stated the message and cut the line.

A long-suffering sigh escaped my lover's lips, and he fixed me with a stare. Those soft, warm purple eyes of his filled with a playful sort of calculating stare. He then picked up a glass of water and gave me a wink.

"Computer, deactivate Universal Translator in this room," he ordered, and my eyebrows shot upward. The acknowledging chirp from the computer stirred my curiosity. Holding the glass of water between us, he pointed at it and murmured a single word. "Na."

I blinked, and he, noticing my blankness, smiled and repeated the word before gesturing a hand at me. I repeated the word, still mildly confused, but it pleased him, and just like that something clicked.

Apparently, this was my first lesson in how to speak Dominionese. My pronunciation had been right on the money, but I didn't know if he meant the cup itself, or what was in the cup.

"Na?" Reaching forward, I tapped the glass as I asked, then I dipped a fingertip into the liquid, "or is this na?"

A look of comprehension flickered across his face, and he touched the liquid as I had, repeating the word confidently. He had me say it once or twice more, and offered me the glass with a cheerful little kiss on the forehead.

As we dressed for our meeting with Dukat, Weyoun tapped items of clothing and various objects around the room, giving me their names in his language and having me repeat them until my pronunciation was satisfactory. By the time that the translator came back online, I couldn't help but feel proud that I'd absorbed so much while recovering from a hangover.

The Changeling standing in the wardroom sent a bolt of anxiety rocketing through me. Why was a Founder here? Wasn't it enough for the Vorta to keep their people informed? Odo stood at her side, looking confused, a little suspicious, and...was he happy? I supposed that he must be. After all, he wasn't the one who'd been exiled from ever returning to their homeworld. The slightly guarded yet curious glances he threw her way said more than words ever could.

How long had she been on the station? How deeply into him had she sunk her claws?

I had my answer when I glanced at the table and noted that Major Kira was conspicuously absent. For the safety of the resistance and the Federation's future, I had to assume that Odo had been compromised.

"Founder, it is an honor," Weyoun said sinking into a low bow at my side. His hand still rested squarely in mine, but I didn't copy his actions. Lifting my chin in defiance, I merely looked at her as her hawk-like eyes watched us - or rather, me. She didn't seem to even notice Weyoun, choosing instead to stare at me.

"We meet again, child of Meris," she said, but I just lifted an eyebrow. What sort of response could I possibly give after she banished me? I'd chosen Weyoun over my people - a decision I could never regret - but I had no intention of discussing my logic with one so cruel that she could not comprehend that what she'd almost done was wrong in the extreme. "Have you nothing to say to your kin?"

Glancing around the room in faux contemplation, I shook my head blankly.

"I see no kin here. Besides, the last time we spoke, you made your opinion on my existence quite clear." I was proud of how calm and logical I sounded despite the anger boiling within me.

"Perhaps our opinions of you have changed," she said taking a few steps toward me. Looking away from her, I spotted Dukat and was, for once, grateful for his presence.

"What did you call us here for, Gul?" The smirk that met my inquiry sent a shiver down my spine. "I trust it wasn't just for this...reunion?"

"Come, Lieutenant. Have a seat by me. We have a breakthrough to discuss," he called, and I did as he suggested. Pulling Weyoun gently along, I ensured that the Founder wasn't given the chance to sit on either side of me. All the meeting gave me were specifics on the plan to remove the minefield. Nearly everything Dukat and Damar said were things I'd heard from the latter the night before, and I forced myself to act surprised.

I caught Damar looking at me a few times, doubtless trying determine how much he'd said the night before and how much I remembered. When I gave him an innocent smile and acted engrossed in Dukat's speech as if it was all new, he seemed to relax.

Very well. Let the drunkard believe that he'd averted a crisis. The more his people underestimated their opposition, the easier it would be to catch them off their guard.

"You will keep me informed," the Founder said rising to her feet as if she was a queen. Without waiting for an answer from Gul Dukat, she turned to Odo. "Come. I wish to speak with you alone."

I expected him to toss out an abrasive comment, but instead, he followed her like an obedient puppy.

What the hell was going on?

Before I could say a word to Weyoun, though, the Founder tossed a glance over her shoulder.

"Come, Weyoun. We require your service," she called not waiting for an answer as she swept out of the room. He gave me an apologetic kiss on the cheek before rushing after the pair of Changelings, and then I was left alone with the two Cardassians.

"Well, well, that wasn't exactly what I was expecting," Dukat murmured, and I let out a heavy sigh. I still had the edge of a headache from this morning's hangover. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the headrest of my seat. "Oh dear. You do seem stressed."

It was all I could do to keep my eyelids from snapping open when one of his large hands rested on my thigh, squeezing the muscles there in what I guessed was supposed to be a soothing gesture. I hummed low in my throat - the sound's meaning was one that I let him interpret on his own.

"Did I wear you out last night?" Damar asked with a huff of laughter, and Dukat let out a scandalized gasp. I could imagine just how wide his eyes had grown as he looked between his officer and me.

"Don't tell me you were with another Cardassian!" He sounded sufficiently playful, but still just jealous enough to bring a smile to my lips. Good. I had him hook, line, and sinker.

"Only for a drink," I replied, and Damar took that as his cue to leave. The door hissed closed, leaving me truly alone with Dukat. Why shouldn't I use this as an opportunity to deepen his trust in me?

"No wonder you look so tired," Dukat murmured sounding much closer than before. His other hand touched my forehead and his lips met my cheek. "Poor girl. I can massage that headache away if you like...?"

Letting out a harsh, skeptical laugh, I finally opened my eyes and tilted my head to face him.

"And trust your hands not to wander? Forgive me, Gul, but I've heard stories of your dalliances during the Occupation–"

"Are you truly telling me that after all we've been through over the years, you wouldn't enjoy a little...dalliance of our own? Especially considering that your pretty little Vorta toy will likely be busy serving the Founder's wishes while she's aboard. We wouldn't want you to grow lonely, would we? I could keep you entertained," he challenged as he skimmed his fingertips down the side of my face. After seeing the Founder in the flesh and how unquestioningly obedient Weyoun was to her, suddenly Dukat didn't seem so bad.

Relativity, indeed. Tilting my head, I skimmed my lips ever-so-lightly over the palm of his hand and looked up at him - a nice touch, if I do say so myself.

"You wish," I breathed, and a devilish smirk stretched his lips. Oh, I was playing with fire.

"Would such a wish really be so surprising?" The Gul's voice was low and intimate - soft, as though he thought that was what I needed.

I did. I needed gentleness quite badly. Just not from him.

"Coming from you? Not in the slightest." I put as much condescension in my tone as I dared, hoping he'd take it as a clumsy attempt at Cardassian-style flirting. A raspy chuckle vibrated deep in his throat, prompting me to get to my feet.

"You're not leaving so soon, are you?"

"I should. After all, Weyoun–"

"–will be busy with the female Founder and Odo for quite some time. You are free to do as you wish," he argued, but I shook my head quietly.

"I have duties."

"You don't. I took the liberty of having Major Kira clear your schedule for the day." I froze, and obviously didn't hide my surprise well, because he continued in a more amused tone. "Initially, I believed that you'd want the time for a family reunion, but given your reaction to your long-lost relation, you could use the time for something more...enjoyable. Improving interstellar relations between Bajor and Cardassia, perhaps...?"

He stood and moved in front of me, tilting my chin up so that eyes met his.

"There's no need to be coy," he whispered. "Obviously, we both want this..."

"You want me?" I asked, attempting to sound as innocent as I could while my hand slid up to his neck ridge. He practically moaned out a 'yes,' and I grabbed the section of his ridge that Kira had taught me was a weak point for Cardassians. Dukat let out a pained hiss, but the delighted smirk on his face spoke more of arousal than discomfort. "Then work for it. I'm not one of your comfort women from the previous occupation. If you want me, then you need to earn the privilege. Understood?"

"Oh yes, Lieutenant." Though strained, he still managed to sound flirtatious. I released him and spun on my heel. Sparing him a single glance over my shoulder as I walked out, I noted the tent in his uniform trousers.

This was a mess. Everything was a mess. If the Federation didn't retake the station soon, the resistance might be in shambles. Damar was clearing the wormhole, Odo was wrapped around the Female Founder's little finger, and Dukat's actions today might have finally convinced Major Kira that I wasn't worth trusting...that I'd truly betrayed the Federation and Bajor. Besides that, I might have to close my eyes and do something I'd very much regret with Dukat.

Guilt wound through me every time that I acknowledged how much I'd encouraged his attraction. I knew I needed information for the Federation and the Resistance, and I needed the Gul to trust me, but was flirting with him even the right move considering everything at stake?

I had no idea how long I was stuck in my thoughts, but at some point that evening, I became vaguely aware that Weyoun had returned to our quarters. His voice washed gently over my ears, but I didn’t hear a word. My eyes remained lost in the stars just outside the window, and my arms had been crossed protectively around my middle for goodness only knew how long.

What could I do to stop the minefield being removed when I hadn't even found a way to communicate with Starfleet Command? I mean, what had I been doing all this time besides playing house with a Vorta?

A wave of concern flowed from Weyoun to myself through our odd link as he sensed my emotions, but I didn’t move a muscle. Even when his hands took up careful residence on my shoulders, I couldn’t bring myself to do more than blink.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it?” Weyoun’s smooth, concerned voice asked from behind me as I stared out into the oblivion of space. He could read people better than they could read themselves, and I was certainly no exception, not that I was making it particularly difficult for him at the moment. Even if we hadn't been empathically linked, it wouldn't have been hard to see how wilted I felt. “You’ve been quieter than usual since you returned from that late night with Damar, and now with Founder here... You’ve been preoccupied. I realize that you don’t want me to think of you as the offspring of a deity, but...I live to serve you in whatever ways you may require, my love. What can I do to help you?”

I felt too vulnerable and too closed off all at once, like a frayed wire being strangled by what little remained of its casing. Who else could I say anything to? Who else cared about what I said, even if this all turned out to be a ruse - a long game that he'd been playing so patiently - in the end?

Weyoun was the only one. I couldn’t trust anyone on this station, not anymore, not where it was important. Hell, I shouldn’t even fully trust him, but what other choice did I have?

For this...could I risk it just this once? He thought of Changelings as gods. He regarded the being who was my biological father as a god, and I myself as a demigod of sorts. Would this be taking advantage of the programming the Founders had included in his genetic makeup? Would he feel obligated to listen to me drivel on without regard for his own feelings despite my protests that I wanted only his honesty?

When I turned and my eyes met his, I felt something in me break. Weyoun looked so worried. Precious man. His almost neon purple eyes were moist as though he were on the verge of tears like I was - he truly was distressed over my current state. I knew my own eyelids were most likely puffy from the tears I’d shed - the emotions threatening to spill over again at any moment - and I knew that he’d have noticed that by now. He was much too clever for his own good.

A low whisper of my name brought me out of my thoughts enough to notice that the Vorta’s brow had furrowed just a little bit more than before.

“Please...it pains me to see you like this. I beg you, please let me help,” he said barely above a whisper, and whatever cracks had formed in my defenses extended far enough that I could no longer keep up my flimsy facade. My eyes burned, my vision blurred, and tears began rolling down my cheeks. A flicker of fear passed over Weyoun’s features and through our bond, and although I wanted to comfort him, all that escaped me was a quiet sob. There wasn’t much space left between us to begin with, but he still stepped forward as much as he could and lifted his hands, allowing them to hover on either side my face as if he was afraid to touch me. “H-How do I help you?”

In answer, I reached out and wrapped my arms around him. Pressing my face quietly against his shoulder, I felt his own limbs envelope me without hesitation - one around my middle and one around my upper back - holding me close to him. Weyoun was nearly trembling from how fiercely and protectively he was embracing me.

“I’m here,” he murmured against my temple in that soft, comforting voice. This time instead of it being filled with steady lies as it so often was in meetings, I could hear it wavering with emotion just as it had so long ago on that Dominion ship and when he found that I'd remained on the station despite its occupation. “You are not alone. You have me; you always will. I promise. No matter what happens with the Dominion, the Alpha Quadrant, the Gamma Quadrant...you will always have me. I know what it is to be alone, and I swear you never will be again.”

Safe in his arms, I found myself no longer caring whether this was just a ploy or not, because I so desperately wanted to believe that I wouldn’t be alone anymore. He'd been here, but I hadn't allowed him to see just how stressed I was trying to toe the line between the Dominion and Bajor. I wanted to believe he was telling the whole truth. Just this once.

Just this once.

So I nodded my head against his shoulder and simply let myself be comforted by his embrace, by his promise, and by this one act of kindness, dangerous though it might eventually prove to be.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to get out around my stuttered breaths. I was. He didn’t deserve to have someone sobbing all over him for no reason. He was the one who needed kindness, especially after the way I’d seen that Founder treating him. He wasn't some pet for them to order around. He deserved so much more kindness than he was being shown.

Yet he was the one showing it to me. Whether incited by genuine concern or by his programmed devotion to the Founders - and myself by extension - Weyoun had never been anything less than sweet and gentle and courteous to me.

But how could I allow a shred of doubt into my head? Just thinking back to the first time I'd felt the extent of his love for me, I remembered how different his emotions had been compared with those he'd felt for the beings who had cloned him.

Shame wove hot and heavy through the ravages of my sorrow.

“You of all people have no reason to apologize to me,” he said before pressing his lips against my forehead in a tender kiss. “What could you possibly have to be sorry about? You have never been unkind to me, you’ve never hurt me. You’ve only ever shown me love and compassion. You are the most remarkable person I’ve ever encountered.”

“You have better things to do than put up with someone crying all over you,” I muttered daring to tilt my head back enough to look up into Weyoun’s eyes. He looked almost startled at my statement.

“My dear, you act as though you are a burden to be borne. I assure you, nothing is further from the truth,” he murmured in a pained voice. One of his hands lifted and cupped my cheek. His thumb skimmed gently across my skin wiping away the last of my tears. Leaning into his touch, I let my eyelids flutter shut. I knew I shouldn’t be this open with him - he was the Female Founder’s puppet while she was aboard the station, after all - but I couldn’t help it. Who else could I possibly be vulnerable with? Considering the cruelty and violence of this war surrounding me on a daily basis, was it really so wrong to enjoy a simple moment of self-indulgent intimacy? I raised my hand to cover Weyoun’s and turned my head just far enough to kiss his wrist.

It wasn’t even close to an adequate thank you for all he’d done for me, but it was all I could manage. I knew he’d understand - he always understood me with a startling degree of accuracy, even when I couldn’t express myself correctly or fully.

“Why do you think so little of yourself?” He asked in barely more than a whisper as his eyes slid from our hands to meet my gaze. “You are lovely and kind to everyone, even those like me who don’t deserve it–”

“But you do deserve it. You always have, Weyoun, no matter how the Founders may have treated you,” I said quietly looking up into his eyes. He blinked owlishly at me, and I leaned in, kissing his cheek. “Can you still not see that after all this time, darling?”

“I suppose I...still have a bit of trouble separating myself from the way the Founders created us,” he admitted as a lavender blush colored his cheeks. “Forgive me–”

“Hush. There’s nothing to forgive,” I promise coaxing him into resting his forehead against mine. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I knew his excellent Vorta hearing would still register what I had to say. “We are, always have been, and always will be equals.”

“I believe you,” he murmured as his hands took up a timid grip on my waist. He took a slow, deep breath and as he exhaled, I rested my hands gently on his shoulders. Nothing had technically changed - the war was still raging, my father was still a missing murderer, and Dukat was still playing a tyrannical, slutty version of king of the castle with the station.

And yet...there in Weyoun’s arms, such a fundamental shift had occurred that it felt as though I suddenly could take on the universe. Perhaps it was a part of the Vorta coding which bound them to the Founders that made me feel reassured as I stood there, his own confidence in me bleeding over and restoring my own.

Or perhaps there was another explanation. The relationship that had been developing between us had shown no cracks until Dukat tried to worm his way between us. Even now, I was acutely aware that the Gul had plenty of reasons to try and manipulate me on that front. Why had I ever allowed myself to listen to a single word he said? Was I so afraid of losing Weyoun that I assumed it was just my luck that I would?

I had doubted myself and my judgment regarding him for so long that I suppose I didn’t feel like I deserved to be loved with the kind over unwavering affection Weyoun had shown me. Even as that thought crossed my mind, doubts filtered through from my subconscious that I shouldn’t have allowed myself to take this much liberty with his affection as it was - that I was weak for doing so.

But I needed him, and I loved him. Weyoun had assuaged my fears on that front so many times before, but was that justification enough for continuing?

“Such chaos thrust upon one person... Let me be your shielding."

The soft earnestness surrounding Weyoun's words had me crumbling in his arms. Almost without conscious thought, I tilted my head and caught his lips in a kiss that I hoped said all the words I couldn't muster. My lover didn't hesitate to return the gesture, kissing me with such tenderness that it took my breath away.

Slowly, naturally, our movements gained momentum, becoming hungrier and more desperate by the second. Just as he'd done after my encounter with Keevan, Weyoun easily took control. Something urgent and lurid passed between us, and in a blur of discarded clothing, we fell into our bed.

We'd experimented with each other over the time we'd been together, but we hadn't quite taken that final step. With his fingers pumping between my legs and mine caressing the base of his length and the folds of his slit, he whispered in my ear.

"I want to make love to you. Please, I'm ready. I'm aching for you, my love. I've dreamt of you so many times..."

I couldn't possibly deny him. Why would I even want to after all this time? I loved him, and I would never pressure him into doing more than he was comfortable with. I would, however, be lying if I said that I'd never imagined what our first time together would be like.

My imagination paled in comparison to the sweet sounds he made as he entered me for the first time. His name was a prayer on my lips, just as mine was on his. Our pleasure was reflected, doubled, then increased exponentially by the bond that formed between our minds. We merged so completely that I couldn't tell where Weyoun began and I ended.

The wet slap of skin-on-skin sounded less obscene and more...restorative. We both needed this. Our reasons might have been different, but our desires, our love, stemmed from the same source.

When he finally spilled within my trembling body, tears dampened both our faces. Weyoun's teeth had left bite marks down my neck, and I'd left a few scratches down his back.

Aside from murmured declarations of love between kisses, we didn't speak. What could we say? What could possibly need to be said so desperately that either of us would risk disturbing the peaceful, content atmosphere that had settled over us like a blanket?

Gentle touches, cuddles, and affectionate looks carried us delicately into dreamland that night.

The next morning as I blinked hazily into awareness, I thought the Vorta was still asleep. Trailing my fingers ever-so-softly through his mussed, silky, black hair, I couldn't help but smile. He was supposed to be unsettling to the Dominion's enemies and charming in equal measure, but all I could see was how gentle he was. I knew he had it within him to be manipulative, charming, and underhanded all in a matter of moments - that was how the Changelings had cloned him to be - and I'd witnessed it. But there was something satisfying about seeing the head of station's occupying force curled up like a kitten in my arms.

"That feels good." The words breezed from his lips, carried on his breath as easily and lightly as a feather. I couldn't stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

"I won't stop, then," I whispered, and he let out an appreciative hum.

"I meant it, you know. Every Weyoun since our very first iteration over a hundred years ago has seen your face in our dreams. Seeing you on the Defiant...I recognized you immediately."

My hand slowed atop his scalp. My lover's voice was low and nervous, as if he was afraid I'd mock him or accuse him of lying. Instead, I watched as he lifted his head from my chest and looked up at me with wide, gentle eyes.

"But...that was so long ago..." I was confused, definitely, but I wanted to hear him out. Across our bond, I could feel tension, as if Weyoun was taking a chance saying any of this.

"My very first memories are images of you from prior iterations' dreams. They all saw your face so frequently that they knew you were someone vitally important...that the Founders were allowing us visions of a blessing they planned to give us. The fourth Weyoun...he'd almost lost hope the day you met him," he murmured. "Only the important memories - the ones that stand out - are encoded for future iterations to retain. You...your face has survived every activation."

A lump rose in my throat. How was that possible? I'd heard of people having visions they thought were from their deities - hell, even Captain Sisko had visions from the Bajoran Prophets - but I knew for a fact that the Founders weren't gods. Even they couldn't predict the future like that. Otherwise, I had no doubt that they would've stopped my father from mating with a Human.

"In the dreams, you called out to me...said my name...promised you'd find me no matter what. I've never told anyone this before, but in my darkest hours...the moments where my faith in the Founders was at risk of falling apart, I clung to the image of your face hovering over me...and it strengthened me," Weyoun admitted in a whisper as he cupped my cheek, gliding his thumb over my skin. "I-I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

Unable to make my tongue work, I shook my head and kissed his lips. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? What could I say about that revelation?

I hadn't even begun to sort through the messy tangle of emotions in my chest when the comm chimed.

“Damar to Weyoun.” Of course, there was never a calm, quiet moment on this station, even with it under the Dominion's thumb. The Vorta sighed quietly, the warmth of his breath caressing my skin as softly as his lips had in the wake of our intimacy.

“What is it?” He asked quietly, sounding more reluctant than I’d ever heard him. He didn’t move away from me any more than I did from him. If anyone had been watching, they’d doubtlessly assume that our nude bodies were stuck together beneath the blanket by some immutable, unseen force.

“You’re needed in Security. Now.” The Cardassian sounded smug, a fact which never seemed to bode well in his company. "We've just arrested a saboteur. The Ferengi bartender's brother, Rom."

~*~*~

Dominionese:

Na = water

~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani @android-boyfriends @attention-bajoranworkers @bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes @emilie786 @groovyqueer @horta-in-charge @live-logs-and-proper @slutty-slutty-vulcans @starrynightgardens @toebeans-mcgee @weyounthevorta

#deepspacedukat fic #half-changeling!reader #Weyoun 5 #Weyoun 5 x Reader #lieutenant!reader #established relationship

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serafilms · 8 months

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thoughts on pjo series so far after episode 6:

(spoilers for ep 6 ahead!! minor spoilers for the books too but nothing much about the plot)

acting SLAYS. slays. i almost teared up like 3 times bc of percabeth in ep 4/5 ALONE. and sally!! and grover!!!! luke and clarisse too ugh!!!!

special effects SLAYYYY. the monsters look really good and just as i imagined, I’ll give them that.

sets and locations are also very accurately pictured and the vibes brought out are just like the book!

script sucks. the writing is soooo awkward most of the time and the conversation just does not flow well. it’s too serious and boring half the time and i can’t keep relying on the actor’s tones even if they’re doing well as child actors.

soooo much exposition in every single conversation my head is spinning. like i feel like there were better ways to contextualise info from the book?

i saw someone say this show could’ve been approached with a fleabag ish narration and while that sort of would be a bit unorthodox i feel like that or just having walker narrate over the top sometimes would’ve been a good way to nod to the books. it’s difficult to bring a first person series alive when the narrator has so much personality and stuff to say that affects descriptions and how we see it, but i think it could’ve been possible.

music is clunky sometimes in that like why r the vibes so heavy for nothing…. like when they were talking in the animal truck and when they were driving the taxi etc.

no action. like i don’t need it to be pumping out adrenaline all the time but they have fr barely done anything i’m sorry 😰 book trio would’ve ate them alive.

cutting grover out at the waterpark likeeee??? yeah maybe him w ares was important but also it was not. they could’ve gotten that info any other time without making him stay w ares.

lacking explanation where it matters. like the eeriness of the lotus casino and why there are people from all different eras. and their RESOURCES like they aren’t explaining where their money and clothes and stuff are like these kids are surviving off one backpack?? it reminds me of in a wrinkle in time (2018) how the kid’s shirt changes like every 10 minutes and it’s just never acknowledged.

speaking of the lotus casino it’s just so like… bland. they’re cutting out the best parts of the story. percy fighting the chimera was so underwhelming and the bus scene too!!! and the lotus casino like yeah ok let’s not promote drugs i guess but they could have and SHOULD have had fun. why did they waste that time on cgi for the roller coaster in the casino at all?? it wasn’t sinister enough bc the whole vibe of the show is just serious so there’s no contrast between them thinking they’ve found paradise and realising there’s something wrong. captured the vibe of the show tbh: they plateau along the middle line of fun and serious business instead of playing with it like the book does.

feels like the character relationships r poorly drawn out. i’ve already forgotten about the weak attempt to build a percy-luke friendship. and annabeth not letting grover talk to hermes in the casino felt badly explained. plus grover’s whole backstory?? why r we straying so far from how the books explained him like they’re separating him a bit toooo much from the others.

generally just too many plot changes like as much as there is good in this show there is also bad and we stray further and further from the plot every single episode (the SOLSTICE WHAT HAPPENED TO THE TIME PRESSURE??).

it’s somehow too low stakes and too serious at the same time. like they’re acting like the stakes are high but i’m not feeling the pressure.

i understand it’s a new iteration and an adaption almost never means it’ll be the same, but that doesn’t mean i like all the changes. i guess there’s probably tonnes of reasons why book to screen adaptions always change so much (actually harry potter and tbosas ate tbh but oh well), and in this case it’s been many years since pjo was released, so rick is just taking that chance to rewrite things as he would if he wrote the books now. and i accept that. but these are just my opinions and some of these things are just plain bad choices for a show 😭

but i do still hope it gets picked up for all 5 seasons + heroes of olympus like i’ll give u all my money i’ll watch it all i swear

#ashley speaks !#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjo series #pjo spoilers #pjo series spoilers

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hollandorks · 2 years

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saved

matt murdock x original female character

chapter seventeen

Summary: Fleeing from an abusive relationship, Grace St. James goes to the only place she still has a friend: Hell’s Kitchen. She’s forced to live in her car and beg for a job from the law firm Nelson, Murdock, and Page all the while making sure her past doesn’t catch up to her. Enter Matt Murdock: cocky, handsome, and willing to let her live with him for free until she can afford to get a place of her own. Grace is drawn to Matt in a way she’s never been drawn to anyone, causing sparks to fly as they inevitably grow closer and closer.

a/n: I’m alive! I’ve had a bit of a cold so I haven’t felt like working on this fic at all tbh. However, this chapter was pretty much done so I just ran it through a round of edits and here we are! This chapter is self indulgent more so than any other chapter before it, and that’s saying a lot. It’s nice and long, and fluffy as hell. So, Merry Christmas I guess!

Series Masterlist

word count: 8730

She fell asleep, feeling warm and utterly safe for the first time in probably her entire life.

Grace knew she was dreaming because Matt Murdock was holding her, one hand in her hair, the other trailing fire up her abdomen and brushing the bottom of her breast. She felt his breath against the back of her neck. He moaned softly as she unconsciously arched against him. She wanted to be closer, wanted her clothes to disappear so she could feel both of his hands everywhere. He was hard against her ass as she pressed backwards again. He’d lost his shirt, and the bare skin of his chest against her back was full of delicious heat. She huffed out a breath as his hand cupped her breast underneath her shirt. His callouses scraped against the sensitive flesh there.

Matt murmured something, causing his lips to brush against the sensitive skin of her neck. His hips bucked lightly against her. Heat was pooling insistently between her legs.

She opened her eyes and realized that she wasn’t dreaming after all.

Matt seemed to realize it at the same moment, because he cursed and rolled away from her. The sudden coldness without him against her was jarring.

“I’m–Shit. I’m sorry, I wasn’t–” His chest heaved. “Grace, I’m so–”

Grace’s mind was having a hard time waking up. Heat was still coiled low in her belly, her muscles aching for release, her breasts heavy with need. As her brain struggled to catch up, all she could think was that she had been so…happy in Matt’s arms.

“Matt,” she said, his name half a groan. She faced him and propped herself on one elbow.

She remembered the night before with sudden clarity. Him protecting her. Him trusting her. Holding her. Keeping her safe.

“Matt,” she said again. Every muscle in his body was tense. His hands were fisted in the sheets and he stared sightlessly upwards. He was utterly still except for his chest, still heaving like he’d been running. Her thighs clenched together as she briefly got distracted by the sight of his abs, the faded scars across his chest. At the tent in the sheets around his waist. Her mouth went dry.

“Matt, listen to me,” she said softly. She reached out and brushed a tentative finger against his taut forearm. He tensed even more, if it was even possible. “Do you…” She cleared her throat softly. Be brave, she told herself firmly. “Do you want to know what I was thinking about in the shower last night?” Her voice was low and husky with desire.

“I really don’t think–” he started, a note of desperation in his voice.

Grace interrupted him. “You, Matt.”

Matt stopped breathing for a second. “Grace…” he said slowly, the single syllable of her name full of tension.

“Just listen for a second.” She hated the note of pleading that crept into her voice, but if she didn’t speak her mind then, she wasn’t sure she ever would. She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see any thoughts his face might give away. The walls had started to come down between them the night before, and she wanted them all gone. She had trusted him with her darkest secret and he had trusted her with his own, so she wanted, more than anything, to get this one final truth out in the air between them.

So she took a deep breath and made the final plunge. “I like you, Matt. Not just–not because of…what just happened. Because you’re a good man. You make me laugh. You care about this city, about your friends. You saw a girl sleeping in her car and gave up your bed, your home, for her.” She took an unsteady breath. “And God–I fucking want you, Matt. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. And I think maybe we could–we could see where this goes.”

Matt was completely silent. She finally opened her eyes to make sure he hadn’t snuck out of the bed without her noticing. But he was still in the exact same position, a statue made of living flesh, hands still gripping the sheets like a lifeline, eyes still open and unmoving. She wasn’t sure he was breathing.

“Grace,” Matt said. He sounded strangled. “I–”

Grace’s heart gave a pang. Hot embarrassment crept into her throat, choking her on its way to settle into her cheeks. “God, I’m sorry, I totally–I completely misread this didn’t I? I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes again and flopped onto her back. “Let’s just–forget all of that. This is me…letting you off the hook again.”

She rubbed hands over her tired eyes. Her past two days had been nothing but an emotional–hell, and a physical–rollercoaster.

But at least she had told him the truth. She could let him off the hook for not returning her feelings, and that was fine. Everything was out in the open now, all her big secrets laid at his feet for him to do with them what he would.

There was a rustle. She assumed Matt was escaping from this huge, awkward moment that was only getting worse the longer the silence stretched.

She jolted when his hand wrapped loosely around her wrist. “Grace,” he said in a low voice that she really didn’t want to react to. She shivered anyways. “My past relationships…Daredevil has come between them all.”

Hope blossomed in her, desperate and heavy in her chest like a stone. She opened her eyes and rolled to face him again. “Matt, I don’t care. I’m willing to try.”

Matt sighed. “I–I care about you, Grace. I don’t want to…mess this up.”

Grace’s heart lurched at his words. He cared about her. “Matt, I don’t care. If it gets messed up, it gets messed up. That’s life. People get together and break up all the time. If it gets fucked up, well, I was already planning on trying to find another apartment.”

“You deserve something good, Grace. Not–not someone who runs around at night beating criminals.” Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. Ah, she thought with sudden clarity. There it is. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her. It’s that he thought he wasn’t good enough for her. And that he thought so only made her like him more.

She wished he could see her face, but remembered how he said he could tell if someone was lying with his heightened sense. She hoped it would be enough. “You are good, Matt. You beat criminals, not women, so you’re already a huge step up from the last guy I dated.” She huffed a laugh.

“But–”

“Matt, I swear to god if you say something else like you’re not good for me, or how I don’t deserve you, or some other self-flagellating bullshit, I’m going to hit you.” She pinched his arm lightly. The hope in her chest was spiraling out of control now, filling her so completely she thought she might vibrate off of the bed with the feeling of it.

“Self-flagellating bullshit?” Matt repeated with raised eyebrows.

“I figured that might be the phrase your Catholic brain might recognize,” Grace said. Matt laughed. “I’m so serious, Matt, I will hit you, and I won’t feel bad about it. And I wouldn’t even feel bad about it if you were actually blind.”

Matt groaned. “I am blind. My eyes are, at least.”

She waved a hand. “Semantics.”

Matt finally leaned up on an elbow, mirroring her pose. “Grace, I just want…to do right by you. I already fucked it up once.”

She softened, studying the crease lines on his face from the pillowcase, the stubble on his jaw, his long eyelashes. “If you’re talking about the three orgasms you gave me the other night, that was the farthest thing from a mistake that has ever happened to me. Even if you hated my guts and kicked me out, I would still be very, very happy about those orgasms.”

Matt’s fingers laced with hers. “I don’t hate your guts,” he said softly. “I could never.”

“Then let’s just…give it a shot. Yeah?” Her heart felt too big for her chest and her stomach was in knots. “If you want.”

Matt didn’t say anything. Instead, he lurched forward and kissed her, rolling until she was flat on her back and he was half-laying on top of her. His hands cupped her jaw as he kissed her slowly, tenderly.

She pulled away slightly. “Is that a yes?”

Matt touched his forehead to hers. “Mm. I have to think about it.” But he was smirking, one of his hands tracing circles at her waist. The hope within her exploded and she was suddenly light as air, floating on the feeling.

“You dick,” she said around a laugh. She arched herself into him, seeking friction to ease the tension that was already curling in her gut.

Matt’s mouth was on hers again and this time it wasn’t sweet. It was ravenous. Her hands fumbled for the edge of his sweatpants. He groaned into her mouth as her fingers wrapped around his length and squeezed gently.

His teeth caught her lower lip with a little growl as she let him go. Her nails skated across the bare skin of his back.

“I want to pay you back for each time you made me come,” she murmured into his ear. Her body had a mind of its own, arching into him as she sought any kind of friction she could get. “But right now I want you to fuck me.”

Matt let out a breathy, needy noise that made her toes curl.

Grace thought that every moment between them had led to this.

“I–” Matt paused, head tilted to the side. She wondered if he was listening to her heart trying to race its way out of her chest. She marveled that he could do that, that he could read her so easily. She hoped her body was telling him very, very clearly how much she wanted him. Instead, he said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He very carefully extricated himself from her and sat at the edge of the bed. She sat up and frowned. “What?” she asked.

“That cop just got ordered to go ahead and bring us into the station. Guess we slept in too long.” Matt groaned and dug his fingers into his hair.

Sure enough, there was a knock at the door.

Grace cursed colorfully. “I’m going to sue the NYPD for giving me blue balls,” she said venomously.

Matt laughed loudly, head tilting back with the surprise of it. “You and me both.”

She cast one last lingering look at him before padding softly to the door, swiping the blanket from the couch to cover up her silk pajamas and lack of a bra.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” the officer said a bit sheepishly when she opened the door. He was young, probably barely out of training, a patching beard growing on his cheeks.

“Not at all,” she said sweetly. It wasn’t the cop’s fault that she and Matt had the absolute worst timing. “What can I do for you, officer?”

“I think Detective Mahoney was expecting you at the station a little…sooner this morning,” he said. “As soon as you’re ready I’m supposed to drive you down there.”

Grace briefly imagined telling the cop to give them a half an hour so Matt could fuck her senseless before they had to go. Her heart gave a leap at the thought. She wondered what Matt would make of that.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry, we stayed up late last night, obviously. Give us ten minutes.”

The officer flashed her a boyish smile before she closed the door. She leaned against it for a moment then blew out her breath.

When she went back into the bedroom, Matt already had suit pants on and was taking a white button up off of a hanger.

“I should have told him half an hour,” she grumbled as she went to the closet for her own clothes.

Matt’s arm came up and caged her against the wall as he leaned down to her. “I don’t think that poor officer would want to hear the sounds I’m going to get you to make, anyways,” he said in a deep voice that nearly made her come right then and there. He smirked as he inevitably heard what his words did to her breathing and heart rate.

“I will go out there right now and tell him to wait for us outside,” she threatened, but her voice cracked.

Matt kissed her lightly on the lips and stepped back so suddenly she would have fallen if the wall wasn’t already supporting her.

“We’ll finish this later,” he promised with another smirk. She chucked a hanger at him. He caught it without turning, laughing. She had to admit that his easy confidence was hot.

“You’re an asshole,” she said, but there was no force behind the comment. She leaned her head back against the wall for a moment to try and collect herself. Then, with a curse, she got ready to go down to the station to make her statement.

In the back of the young officer’s squad car–Officer Walters, he had politely informed her when she’d asked–Grace shifted uneasily. They weren’t under arrest, but something about being in the back of a cop car made her anxious. She wondered if her involvement with what had happened to Harry Spencer, however minor, would lead to her reliving the experience again sooner rather than later. Except, she thought, that time she would be in handcuffs.

Around the third time she fidgeted in her seat, Matt’s hand came to rest on her knee. He squeezed it gently.

“Should I tell them about who sent those guys?” she asked him in a quiet murmur she hoped Walters didn’t overhear.

“What’d you say?” Walters asked anyway. He seemed oddly cheerful for someone who’d come to guard their door at five o’clock that morning.

“Um–I forgot to grab something to eat on the way out, is all.” She glanced at Matt.

“I think so,” he said in a much more quiet whisper as Walters promised he’d find something for them at the station.

Grace sighed. She tried to imagine what would be better or worse–telling the cops about Dean, who had the power to get out of any kind of legal ramifications, or not telling them and potentially being caught in a lie later when things inevitably blew up in her face.

So, twenty minutes later when Detective Mahoney asked her if she had any idea why four armed men came after her, she told the truth.

When she was done, Mahoney sat back and said, “Shit.”

“Yeah,” she said nervously. Her hands twisted around the coffee cup Walters had brought her. She’d already eaten the donut. He’d winked at her before he’d left. He was a sweet guy, and she was glad she and Matt hadn’t gotten him in trouble by delaying their trip to the station like they’d wanted.

Mahoney leaned his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers under his chin. “I–Armed men, though? That seems a little far-fetched.”

“Do you know who he is?” she asked. Mahoney hesitated, then nodded. “Then it’s not that far-fetched, detective. I…think I might like to place a restraining order against him.” As she said the words, she realized they were true. It wouldn’t do much to actually stop him, but it would slow him down and at the very least back her up if something else happened.

Mahoney pursed his lips. “I think I should go get Mr. Murdock for this.”

He stood and stepped out of the room. Grace took a shaking sip from her coffee.

The door opened after just a minute and Matt stepped through.

“Chair on your left,” Mahoney said as he took a seat across from them. Matt’s hand fumbled for the back of the chair so convincingly that Grace almost laughed.

“I told him I want a restraining order,” she said to Matt, though she assumed he’d already heard. She still had so many questions for him, for what he could do.

Matt sat back in the chair, looking perfectly at ease. “I think that’s a good idea. We’ll help her with the paperwork of course, detective.”

“Are you sure about this?” Mahoney asked her. He studied her face, missing nothing, including the darkening bruise across the side of her face and her split knuckles.

“Very,” she said firmly.

“I’ll be right back, then.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, Matt turned to her.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Grace rolled her eyes. “I just said I was.”

“I know, but–”

“If anything, it’s something to fall back on if he tries to pull anything else.”

Matt reached over and squeezed her knee. “I agree. We can see about suing, too, for last night’s incident. I overheard a couple officers talking about how those guys claimed to be from a security company and they thought I’d kidnapped you. Which was, naturally, part of my questioning.”

“Seriously?” Grace said with a flare of anger. That prick, she thought. “No wonder Mahoney asked me so many questions about our living arrangement.”

Matt smirked. “Yeah, so I heard.”

Matt’s hand moved from her knee right before the door opened again. His tinted glasses flashed red in the lights as he titled his head back at the sound.

“Here’s some information on filing a restraining order, although I’m sure your…coworkers know how to do that. And some information on…domestic abuse.” Mahoney looked deeply uncomfortable as he handed her a neat little folder.

“Thanks, detective,” she said softly.

“You two are free to go. We’ll reach out if we need anything else.”

“Thanks, Brett,” Matt said. Mahoney nodded at her and left them alone.

“Could you tell how uncomfortable he was?” she asked wryly.

Matt laughed and stood. “Yeah, it was pretty obvious. Let’s get out of here.”

“Please say we can stop for coffee.”

“My thoughts exactly. My treat.” Matt held out his hand to help her up.

“Why, Mr. Murdock, are you flirting with me?” she whispered conspiratorially as they entered the station’s hallway and headed for the front door. Despite the fear from the night before and the shadow of Dean hovering over her, Grace was…happy. Matt liked her back. Somehow, in all of this, something good had happened.

“Am I so transparent?” Matt murmured back. He elbowed her slightly and she couldn’t help but smile.

Grace sighed again as they stepped outside. It was unseasonably warm, summer making a last ditch effort to come back even though it was fully into autumn. “Do you think Foggy and Karen would care if we ditched today?”

“And why would we do that?” Matt asked innocently as he turned a corner. Supposedly she was leading him, but his steps were sure as he led her.

Feeling bold, Grace said, “Because I’m pretty sure I promised to pay you back for making me come three times.”

Matt almost tripped. His mouth opened and closed several times. She couldn’t help but laugh, even as her limbs warmed at the thought.

“Wow, Matt Murdock, speechless?” she teased. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“You’re cruel,” he said with a choked sounding laugh. “Come on, we’re almost there and it sounds like the line is pretty short.”

“It’s weird how you know that,” she said. Her face was flushed and she knew he could hear her heart fluttering. “And I really, really wasn’t kidding.”

Matt groaned and tightened his grip on her. “I know. Trust me, I know. But if I leave Foggy hanging on this case he might kill me.”

“Rain check, then,” she said as they stepped into a delicious smelling coffee shop.

“Rain check,” Matt said, and the promise was the best thing she’d heard.

A few minutes later, coffees and bagels in hand, they talked and ate as they headed to the office. Grace studied Matt as she finished off her bagel, which was much more satisfying than the donut at the station, no matter how nice the gesture had been.

She smiled warmly at him even though he couldn’t see it. She had never expected, not in a million years, for things to go so…well for her. Even the incident from the night before and the light throb of pain in her face couldn’t take away the happiness she was feeling at that moment.

“What?” Matt asked, head tilted in that way she was just realizing meant he was tuning in to something beyond a normal person’s ability to hear.

“What?” she parroted back, bumping into him as they walked to try and trip him up. He deftly dodged her and kept walking. “Showoff,” she muttered.

“I can tell you’re staring at me, but I can’t tell why,” Matt said. He bumped into her this time. She was proud of herself for not tripping.

“I’m not staring at you,” she said. “I’m smiling at you.”

Matt stopped walking, nearly wrenching her arm that was looped with his. “Smiling at me?” he asked with a frown.

“Yeah, people do that sometimes,” she said teasingly. “Not everyone is mad at you all the time.”

Even though he had his tinted glasses on, she could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “I never said everyone is mad at me all the time.”

“Last night when you told me your secret the first thing you did was accuse me of being mad at you or upset with you.” She pinched his bicep lightly. “That and the Catholic guilt thing makes me think you assume everyone’s mad at you all the time.”

Matt started walking again, pulling her gently along. “Are you ever going to stop bringing up Catholic guilt? Maybe it’s just regular guilt. I do keep a pretty big secret, after all.”

“But it isn’t a secret anymore. And it makes sense why you keep it a secret. Need I remind you that my secret had your apartment broken into last night?”

Matt sighed. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” she asked with genuine curiosity. “Because I don’t think so.”

“It’s just–every time anyone has found out my secret, it’s come between us. Foggy and I stopped working together, Karen and I didn’t make it past two dates. It took a lot for us to come back from that.” Matt’s hand tensed around his cane as he swept it idly back and forth.

“But you did come back from it. You guys are working together, closer than ever. You’re going to be Foggy’s best man, you guys helped support Karen through law school. Plus, you and I weren’t best friends or romantically involved when you told me your secret. Which, I remind you, you told me more out of necessity than anything.”

“Maybe you should be a lawyer,” Matt grumbled, but then he sighed again. “Okay, so Foggy and Karen and I are okay now. But I’m still–I still am who I am. I haven’t stopped and I don’t know if I want to. I don’t want–”

“Matt,” Grace said with a lot more patience than she actually felt. “I don’t care. It would be like–if you were a boxer, or a firefighter, or something else that could get you hurt or killed.”

“It’s illegal,” Matt said dryly.

“So are a lot of things,” Grace said. She pinched his arm a little harder this time, ignoring his protests as she did so. “Matt, I’m telling you. I’m not angry. Do I want you to get hurt? No. But you’re–you’re doing something good. Like I already said, you beat criminals and not helpless women, so I think you get a pass just for that. There are plenty of supposedly good men who are monsters underneath.”

“Maybe I am a monster,” Matt said. His voice was soft, almost thoughtful.

Grace pulled him to a stop. “Matt, seriously. Remember what I said this morning about cutting the self-flagellating bullshit? So you beat the shit out of people. Again, so do boxers. That’s what your dad did for a living, right? Did you think he was a monster?”

Matt made a frustrated noise and went to start walking again. She yanked on his arm with a grunt until he stopped again. Jesus, he was strong, she thought.

“Did you?” she said again.

“No, I didn’t think my dad was a monster, but–”

“If you say that it’s different I swear to god I will punch you. Just listen to me.”

“You’re more violent than I thought,” Matt said. But he mimed zipping his lips after a moment.

Grace crossed her arms and resisted the urge to stomp her foot. “If anything, you beating the shit out of people makes a lot more sense than when your dad did it. Because he did it for money. You do it for the good of the city. Do you hear what I’m saying at all, or is your mind just bouncing the words around so you can start that self-flagellation again once I stop talking? I swear, I have never met someone so–”

She was abruptly cut off with a muffled “mmph” as Matt kissed her.

“What was that for?” she asked a little breathlessly after he pulled away.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, Grace,” he said, voice thick with emotion.

“Right back at you, Murdock,” she said, but she was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.

“I just–no one has ever found out what I do and–” He raked a hand through his hair and swallowed hard. “You’ve known me for five minutes and you’re convinced I’m a good man, doing good things, despite what you know about me. About what I do.”

“You are a good man, Matt,” she said softly. She pulled him closer so their foreheads touched. Matt inhaled deeply as if breathing her in. “You can hear when I’m lying, right?” she asked after a moment. Matt nodded his head against hers. “In any of this arguing we’ve just been doing, have I lied?��

Matt grunted. “No,” he finally, grudgingly, said.

“You’re a good man, and I really hope you see that. I’ll never stop saying it until either I get hit by a bus or you like, actually do something bad. Which I doubt you’ll do, by the way.” She kissed him lightly, thrilling in the fact that she could do that now.

“Alright, alright.” Matt hooked his arm through hers again and started walking. Something seemed lighter about him, and a small ball of warmth unfurled in her chest as she realized it. “Let’s get to work. Foggy’s already freaking out.”

“What’d you tell him?” Grace asked curiously.

“I texted him last night to say we’d be late, that something happened that required a visit to the police station. I told him that everything was fine, but I’m sure he’s still worrying.”

Grace frowned. Matt texting required him talking to his phone, which she was certain would have woken her up. “You texted him last night? When?”

“While you were sleeping,” Matt said. “You were pretty passed out.”

Something else shifted in her chest. He’d been awake, holding her, watching over her, even as she’d slept.

“You’re staring again,” Matt said.

“Smiling, Matt,” she said. “Smiling at you.”

Matt said nothing but his lips brushed against her temple.

“Now,” she said with a little clap as their building came into view. “We should fuck with Foggy and Karen.”

Matt laughed. “How so?”

“Well, they don’t know I know about you, for one thing. Or about uh…this morning. And I don’t mean the police station.”

Matt’s arm wrapped around her waist as he pulled her closer. “Right,” he said slowly.

“So I’ll tell them the story I told the cops about Daredevil,” Grace said with a smile. She wiggled her eyebrows even though he couldn’t see it. “The rest–” She waved her hand. “That’ll come to me.”

Matt tilted his head back and laughed. She resisted the urge to kiss him again.

“Which means you have to stop kissing me on the street, Mr. Murdock,” she said. “And holding me like this.”

Matt squeezed her hip but relented and let her go. They put an appropriate amount of space between them, which was already harder than it should have been. She wanted to stay curled up against him and his warmth. She really, really wished they could have stayed in bed all day.

The moment they stepped into the office, Karen and Foggy descended on them.

“What happened?” Foggy asked. Or rather, demanded. He put his hands on his hips in a pose that reminded her so much of Matt that Grace almost smiled.

“Foggy told me you guys had to go make a statement with the police,” Karen added. She crossed her arms too, expression a mix between stern and concerned. “What the hell is going on?”

Grace blew out a hard breath as she shed her jacket and purse at her desk. “You guys will never believe what happened,” she said as Matt went straight to his office.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out!” Foggy said impatiently. “Get back here, Murdock, you’re not off the hook.”

Matt laughed but did as Foggy said.

“Last night some men broke in,” Grace said with a dramatic pause. As expected, Karen gasped and Foggy cursed. “Apparently, my crazy rich ex wants to kidnap me or something. But that’s a different story. You’ll seriously never guess what happened, though, why we’re…you know, here and not kidnapped.”

Foggy’s mouth was hanging open. He quickly snapped it closed. “What?” he asked a bit breathlessly. He and Karen were both wide-eyed. They exchanged a quick look.

Grace had to school her expression so she didn’t laugh. “Daredevil came and saved us. Me and Matt. He came through the roof door, which was unlocked I guess, and beat the shit out of these guys. Well, I mean they got us both good first, but he kicked their asses so quickly and thoroughly–it was crazy.”

She curled her hands into fists so her nails bit into her palms so she wouldn’t laugh.

Karen and Foggy both stared at her, openmouthed, for a long minute. Behind them, Grace could see Matt turn away, his shoulders shaking silently. She quickly looked back at the two people in front of her before Matt made her lose it.

“He–saved you and Matt?” Karen finally said.

“Daredevil?” Foggy repeated. “Guy in the red suit? With the horns?”

“Yes!” Grace said eagerly. “God, you guys probably don’t believe me. Him saving me twice? It’s pretty unbelievable. Tell them, Matt!”

“Yeah, it’s…pretty unbelievable,” Foggy said faintly. He and Karen exchanged another, much longer look.

“I…can’t really believe it either,” Karen said.

“Oh hey,” Grace said, grabbing the paper bag she’d put on her desk. “Matt, you forgot your bagel.”

Without warning, she threw the bag at him as hard as she could. Matt snatched it out of the air with an almost practiced ease. Karen gave a wordless cry and held her hand out a beat too late, as if to catch it for him.

“Thanks,” Matt said, opening the bag and pulling out said bagel with such a casual air that Grace really almost gave in to the urge to laugh. Her stomach muscles were twitching with the effort to hold it in.

“What in the goddamn is going on?!” Foggy half-shouted, throwing his hands up in the air.

Finally, Grace couldn’t hold it back anymore. She doubled over, laughing so hard tears leaked from her eyes. She heard Matt start to chuckle as well. Every time she tried to straighten she only laughed more. She could barely breathe, she was laughing so hard. She didn’t think she’d ever laughed so hard in her entire life.

Foggy was still freaking out, looking very unamused. “I mean it, what is happening? Matt, what–”

“I’m sorry,” Grace choked out. She wiped at her eyes. “I couldn’t help it. Don’t blame Matt, it was my idea.”

“What was your idea?” Karen said. Now she was the one with her hands on her hips. Her lips were trying not to twitch upwards into a smile, though.

“To fuck with you guys.” Grace shrugged, and then giggled again. She glanced at Matt and lightly tapped the desk twice. He smiled in her direction, still laughing softly. “All that stuff happened, I swear. But the part about Daredevil didn’t. Obviously.”

“Uh.” Foggy looked vaguely ill. “Obviously?”

“Come on. The bagel wasn’t enough?” She picked up a pencil and threw it at Matt. He caught it. She threw a pen at him right after the pencil, and he caught that too. “Matt’s the one who beat the shit out of the guys who broke in, and then he told me his secret so we could lie to the cops convincingly. So now there’s a nice, official police report backed by two witnesses that Matt Murdock and Daredevil can in fact exist in the same room together. Separately.” Grace shrugged.

Karen recovered first. “That is…a lot to take in,” she said. “You really told her?” she asked Matt. Her blue eyes flickered between them, missing nothing. Grace wondered if Karen had figured out Matt’s secret herself. It seemed like something she was capable of.

“Yeah,” Matt said, suddenly sober. “I trust her, don’t worry. The police report thing was her idea, actually, to protect me.”

Foggy’s head whipped from her to Matt and back again. “Are you–That’s–What–”

Karen walked to the kitchenette to fix a cup of coffee, quietly shaking her head. She was smiling openly now.

“Foggy, it’s alright,” Matt said, probably sensing the panic brewing in his friend. “She actually took it a hell of a lot better than you did.”

Grace saw the expression on Foggy’s face and hurried to say, “Understandably, of course, since I wasn’t best friends with you for years first.” Foggy’s shoulders relaxed a bit at her words. “Plus, I was keeping my crazy, powerful ex a secret and he had Matt’s apartment broken into, so…I don’t really have any room to talk.”

Foggy pressed his hands to his face. Karen returned, cupping her mug thoughtfully.

“Who’s your ex?” Karen asked.

“Dean Bennett.”

Karen swore impressively. “Wow. That’s–wow.”

“Yeah. The whole reason I came to Hell’s Kitchen and lived in my car and begged you guys for a job. Etcetera.” Grace shrugged, though the memories still stung.

“Okay, first, you’re a terrible person and I hate you,” Foggy said, pointing a threatening finger at Grace. “Second, I’m so glad you finally know! God, that makes things so much easier.” He pumped a fist in the air and held out a hand for a high five. Grace laughed and high fived him. “Third, what are you going to do about this crazy ex who apparently can send armed gunmen after you like it’s no big deal?”

“She wants to file a restraining order,” Matt said. When Grace looked at him, his shoulders and jaw were tense. “I also recommend suing this supposed ‘security company’ he sent after you, if we can find out who they are.”

“I have to tell you guys, though, I’m not sure I can afford you.” Grace laughed but there was a nervous edge to it. “Unfortunately, my job doesn’t pay that well.”

“Nonsense,” Foggy said. “Not about the pay part–sorry about that. I’m pretty sure free legal help is one of our employee benefits.”

“If it isn’t, it is now,” Matt said. He was all business as he added, “First we need to figure out what security company those guys were with, if it exists at all. Or anything that ties them to this guy.”

Karen hurried to her desk and snatched up her cell phone. “I’ll call in a favor with Ellison,” she said as her fingers flew over the keyboard. “He has a lot of contacts at the precinct.”

“I’ll call Brett, too,” Foggy said.

“Ah, I wouldn’t, Fog. He already seems a little…suspicious. I don’t know. Something was off with him,” Matt said with a small frown.

“Brett? Suspicious? Of us? No way.” Sarcasm dripped from Foggy’s voice. “What’s new?”

“Let’s just…see what Ellison comes up with first,” Matt said. Foggy flapped a hand dismissively.

“Who’s Ellison?” Grace chimed in.

“Editor at The Bulletin,” Matt said.

“He’s a friend. I used to work for him and he’s helped me a lot with the big shit in Hell’s Kitchen.” Karen shrugged. Her phone chimed. “That was fast.” She continued typing quickly.

“Where does your ex live?” Foggy asked. “The paperwork for restraining orders changes depending on where.”

While Foggy went to search the paperwork, Karen and Matt started questioning Grace.

“Is there anything you documented from your time with him?” Karen asked softly. Her hand came to rest on Grace’s shoulder. “Pictures? Texts? Police reports? Anything at all could be helpful for this case.”

Grace snorted bitterly. “No, definitely no police reports.” She forced herself to think back several months. It was hard to make her mind go back to that dark place, where she’d been alone and afraid every single day for years. “I…When I left, I texted him that I wanted to break up, while he was at work. When I didn’t answer his calls, he sent me a lot of really angry texts. I screenshotted them all.”

“That’s smart, Grace, really smart,” Matt said in a gentle voice. “Send those to Karen. Is there anything else?”

Grace rubbed at her eyes. “I got rid of my phone so he couldn’t track me, canceled any accounts that I could. But all of my pictures were uploaded to the cloud. There…are probably some pictures of bruises on there. I’m not sure if that’ll hold up in court, though. I can’t prove that they were from him.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Karen said. Grace didn’t miss the ticking of a muscle in Matt’s jaw or the way that his hands flexed several times before he stilled. “Look through them and send me anything you think is relevant.”

“Especially if they’re spread out,” Matt added. His right hand flexed again, like maybe he wanted to hit something. “If we can build a timeline, it helps show it was–” He stopped abruptly.

“It’s okay, Matt,” Grace said. “You can say it. It was abuse.”

Karen wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she said. “But I’m glad it brought you to us. We’ll help you in any way that we can.”

Grace blinked rapidly to clear the tears forming in her eyes. “Anyone know a good hit man?” She joked to cover up the fact that she was about to cry.

Karen laughed. “I actually–”

“Karen, don’t finish that sentence,” Matt said tiredly.

“Yeah, especially if it rhymes with Mank Trastle!” Foggy shouted from his office.

“Mank…Trastle?” Grace repeated. “What is he talking about?”

“Um. Nothing,” Karen said, too quickly. “Story for another time.”

Grace raised her eyebrows but decided to let it drop. She wouldn’t forget that phrase, though, and she definitely planned to ask about it.

They broke apart to finally start on their tasks, Grace insisting that they all needed to work on their other cases, at least while she looked through her photos and compiled anything helpful to send to Karen.

She booted up the computer and opened up a private browser. She knew that it wouldn’t keep Dean from finding her–he already knew where she was living–but it made her feel better all the same. She had no idea if he knew her passwords or could pay someone to hack her information. At this point, after he’d sent literal armed men after her, she wouldn’t put anything past him.

Grace sat for at least ten minutes staring blankly at the screen. She didn’t want to dig back into that life. She’d left it behind for a reason. She had something good going here, and she wanted, more than anything, to forget anything that had come before. She had a job she really was starting to love, she had friends, and she had something new with a man that made her feel safe. Her old life was a brief shadow in this new world of light.

But that life had caught up with her, whether she liked it or not.

With a small growl, Grace logged into her account with angry keystrokes. She needed to remember why she’d left, and how. She’d been angry when she’d left. She’d been fed up. It was the same reason she’d taken self defense classes for two years straight. She didn’t want to be helpless.

“Everything okay?” Matt’s voice made her jump.

“Yeah, just–logging in.”

Matt’s eyebrows rose. He wasn’t wearing his glasses anymore. “That so? With growling and angry typing?”

Grace huffed a laugh. “Yeah. I was just–feeling sorry for myself. Then I remembered that he’s an asshole and I want to punch him in the face.”

“Mm. Yeah. I know the feeling.” There was that little tick in his jaw again. She’d noticed it before but now she was beginning to learn that it was a sign of his anger, despite how calm he appeared. “I was just…picking up those papers you had printed for me.”

Grace glanced around. Karen was on the phone, her door closed, and Foggy looked so deep into paperwork she was almost certain he couldn’t hear anything.

“Are you sure you didn’t come over to flirt with me?” she teased softly.

Matt gave her a warm smile. “Well, not quite. I was coming to ask you to lunch.”

“First coffee, now lunch? You work fast, Murdock.” She wondered if he’d be able to tell if she winked. “Can you tell if I wink at you?”

“Why, is that what you’re doing?” He was still smiling. The shadows of her former life seemed to melt away in the radiance and warmth of that smile. Matt placed both hands on her desk and leaned forward. Her body reacted almost instantly, even before he said his next words. “I won’t work fast later, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone betraying exactly what he meant by later.

A small gasp of air slipped from her lips. Her heart thundered in her chest and heat coiled low in her belly.

“Let me ask my boss if I can take a half day,” she said. The words were almost pleading.

Matt tapped her desk twice. “Sorry, too much work to do.”

He put his hands in his pockets and strolled casually back to his desk.

“Asshole,” she muttered, knowing full well he could hear her. “And you forgot your papers.”

She heard his soft laugh from his office.

She had a sudden idea. In a whisper under her breath, she said, “Are we keeping this a secret from them?” She watched Matt cock his head from his seat at his desk. Then he shrugged. “Do you want to?” He shook his head. “What do you think would be funnier–kissing in front of them like it’s no big deal, or making some sort of sexual comment?” Matt choked and coughed. “Because it was kind of fun fucking with them earlier.”

“Talking to yourself?” Foggy said cheerfully from his office doorway. “Looks like you are becoming one of us.”

Grace tried to keep her face neutral. “Yeah, apparently crazy is catching.”

Foggy laughed. “Yes it is. I was one hundred percent sane until my college roommate walked in and ruined that for me.”

“Hey,” said Matt. He leaned on the door jamb. His sleeves were rolled up now. “I’m pretty sure I was sane until I met you, Fog.”

“Maybe we were both sane until Karen corrupted us,” Foggy said.

“No, you two definitely fucked me up,” Karen said. “Hey, do you have those notes? On the building codes?”

“Right.” Foggy sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Remind me why we took such a big case again?”

“To keep the lights on,” Karen said as Foggy passed her a stack of papers.

Grace grabbed the stack Matt had supposedly been after. They had a handy printer that transcribed everything to braille for him.

“Speaking of paperwork,” she said as she held out the papers. Matt tilted his head. She eyed the long column of his throat, imagining pressing kisses to the spot where his pulse beat beneath his skin.

Matt took the papers, tossed them unceremoniously on his desk, and then grabbed her wrist and yanked her closer. She stumbled and fell flush against him. Her mind went utterly blank in surprise.

Matt kissed her. He caged her in with his arms, the doorjamb digging against her spine. He tasted like coffee and something wholly Matt. She fisted her hands in his shirt to hold him close. But as quickly as it had happened, the kiss was over. Matt was grinning cockily at her in a way that had her stomach doing flips.

She blinked, completely dazed.

“Thanks for transcribing that stuff for me,” he said, voice completely normal like he hadn’t just made out with her in front of–Oh. Oh.

Grace smiled at him as she realized what he was doing. “No problem,” she said, proud of how normal her voice sounded despite the chaos inside her body and mind.

She went back to her desk like nothing happened.

Karen and Foggy looked twice as shocked as they had at her Daredevil story.

Finally, Karen smacked Foggy in the chest with the papers he’d handed her. “I told you.” She grinned at Grace, who couldn’t help but grin back. She felt a bit…giddy. Her mind raced with all kinds of delightful scenarios of her and Matt alone in the office, his tie on the floor, his desk underneath them. She tried unsuccessfully to shove them from her mind.

“I–Is–You guys are going to give me a heart attack!” Foggy threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t think I can take anything else! Please, stop. Seriously. Stop. I’m on the edge of a nervous breakdown here!”

Matt laughed, long and loud. “This is payback for all the shit you’ve pulled on me, Foggy. Though it was all Grace’s idea.”

Foggy gaped at her. “You–You evil woman. I’m sending you a bill for my cardiologist. Or therapist.”

“Sure, but remember I don’t get paid much.” She winked at Foggy.

He stared at her and Matt in turn for several moments. A slow smile spread across his face. “God, I knew it. I knew it. Especially after–Nevermind, doesn’t matter. You two are dating now? Is this really happening?”

“Dating?” Grace said, unable to help herself. “I thought that’s how Matt thanked everyone.”

“Well he doesn’t kiss me like that,” Foggy said, and they all laughed. “Needs more tongue, Murdock!” he called as he went back to his office. He muttered something else that made Matt laugh again.

Grace’s phone chimed with a text from Karen. What the hell happened last night after those guys broke in??

She glanced up at the blonde who raised her eyebrows and quickly typed something. This is the best way to keep Matt from eavesdropping, she said. Foggy and I talk about him all the time via text, because he can’t see or hear it.

Grace pressed her lips together against a smile. Nothing happened last night. But this morning I definitely debated suing the NYPD for giving me blue balls.

Karen snorted loudly in her office. Her response was instant. And you guys are…dating? FWB? What? I mean I know it’s not my business but…

Grace glanced up at Matt, who looked like the very picture of innocence as his fingers flew across his papers as he read. I think dating. I don’t know. I’ve been calling him out on what I’ve been calling his self-flagellating bullshit.

Karen coughed to cover up another laugh. That’s a great way to put it. He does it a lot.

Too much, Grace sent back. So I’ve been distracting him.

Karen’s eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. I’m not going to ask.

Grace glanced at the clock before she typed another message. When do you get your results back for the bar exam?

Two weeks. I don’t think it’s a secret though.

I don’t know about you but I don’t think Matt needs to hear every conversation we ever have. Grace tapped her fingers on her desk, realizing all of her pictures were still pulled up. She was probably procrastinating looking through them by talking to Karen.

Why do you think we went to lunch a few blocks away after our night at Josie’s? I know how to keep secrets. When Grace glanced up, Karen flashed her a smile.

Grace set her phone down and sighed with another look at the computer. She scrolled through them, starting with three years ago. That had been the first time he’d hit her. She glanced idly at the photos, shutting her brain off, not letting herself get sucked into any of the memories that accompanied the many photos. Every time she found a hint of a bruise, she attached it to an email draft to Karen. She numbered the pictures, added dates, and a short description of the incident and where you could see a hint of a bruise–if not a full bruise–in the picture.

She got to last year’s photos and realized the office was quiet. She looked around with bleary eyes. The other three were gathered around takeout containers. She hadn’t realized it was lunch time, or that anyone had gone to get food.

Matt walked over to her and held out a wrapped sandwich. “Sorry, our plans kind of got derailed,” he said, leaning a hip against her desk. “Rain check?”

“I’m really beginning to hate that phrase,” Grace said darkly as she unwrapped her sandwich. “How’d you–right. Superpowers.”

Matt crossed his arms. “I don’t need superpowers to know what your order is, Grace. I’m just observant.”

There was that warmth again, deep in her chest. “Thanks, Matt,” she said softly.

“Get your ass in here, Murdock! Some of us are trying to get some work done!” Foggy shouted from his office. Matt tapped her desk twice and rolled his eyes, but took his food into Foggy’s office.

Grace ate while staring at her desk, letting the sounds of the others working and joking wash over her.

When she was done, she dove back into the photos.

The last year had been the worst. She’d had a broken wrist from where he’d pinned her against the wall so hard it had snapped a bone. She’d had bruises on her collarbone, too, but only the cast was visible in the photos.

That had been the first time she’d been truly afraid for her life.

He hadn’t struck again until months later, when her wrist was healed and her cast was off. That was when her ribs had been bruised. Maybe fractured, but she’d never gone to get it checked out. That was the first time she’d taken a picture of the damage. She’d let it upload to the cloud, then deleted all traces of it from her phone.

That was also when he’d started checking her phone regularly. She didn’t know if it’s because he was getting meaner and more paranoid, or if he’d somehow found out about her desire to start keeping track of all of the ways he’d hurt her. She added a note about that in her email, too, that she’d had to take the passcode off of her phone and let him approve all social media posts.

It took her much, much longer to get through those last pictures. The woman in them had a deadness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. A desperation. She’d lost weight then, too, which he’d assumed was for his benefit.

Grace finally finished and sent the email. She rested her head in her hands. They shook with anger.

He was a bastard. The worst kind of bastard. She should have known his business wasn’t all aboveboard, too, just based on how he treated her.

She’d been stupid, naive, prone to giving in to his apologies.

She wasn’t that girl anymore.

She took a deep, steadying breath, and finally started working on the paperwork piling up on her desk.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@zaminoo @yanna-banana @bellal1 @thetrinitytest @harry-bowie-mercury @lorosette @feliciab1990

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock x original female character #matt murdock x original character #matt murdock #daredevil x oc #daredevil x ofc #daredevil x original female character #daredevil x original character #daredevil #netflix daredevil #saved #saved fic #saved daredevil

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goblins-riddles-or-frocks · 2 years

Text

Overall I’m glad AMC IWTV exists and I enjoy the new things it brings to the table. But I think it simply didn’t linger on the themes and emotional beats I personally loved most in the original story? It barely had them at all tbh.

As I’ve complained previously, I do feel really strongly about Claudia and Lestat’s dynamic and how Lestat turns Claudia into a vampire to trap Louis. And just how involved he is and how complicated all three of their relationships become.

The show I feel chose to focus on the messy *romantic* relationship Lestat and Louis have. Once Claudia and Lestat hate each other, that is that and there doesn’t appear to be much more nuance there. What matters is that Louis has an abusive spouse that he can’t decide whether he loves or hated.

Meanwhile I felt that the 1:1 depiction of domestic violence flattens the metaphor for a fledgling vampire and maker in a way that’s just not as interesting to me. The very conceit of a maker and fledgling can be so interesting as a vehicle for exploring suffocating dynamics, abuse, codependency, and various sorts of complexities, in stark stylized contrast. But the introduction of bluntly framed domestic violence feels like it collapses all of that potential into the simple metaphor of a violent spouse. I also just generally didn’t like how it chose to explore this, and I would admittedly likely feel much more generously if I had thought its take was incredibly compelling on its own. But I didn’t really.

I don’t know. The show generally felt like a mixed bag. I think it had a very strong opening, and likewise strong finale. The middle dragged on, exacerbated by the simplification imo because it frankly started to feel like they didn’t have enough content. Claudia and Lestat’s animosity, particularly, began to feel one note and her later choice to kill him much less emotionally effective as a result, because when even was the last time they gave a shit about each other? It doesn’t feel like a difficult choice. Once again it only matters from the perspective of Louis’ turmoil. Which is itself an interesting one! But losing complexity here doesn’t really feel like streamlining to me, and there was plenty of lingering on the drawn out feud itself.

So idk. I enjoyed the show. I think it’s good. I really appreciate a big budget vampire series that’s dedicated to the tone and aesthetic even being out there in the current, very barren, genre landscape. I’m also really happy to see renewed interest in the general series and characters. I respect a lot of the writing choices. And simply having black vampires, who are protagonists is itself really cool and necessary! Vampire fiction tends to be a very white and racist genre! And like it’s awesome to see it be so openly queer and casual. We’re told point blank that these characters are in love and we get to see them kissing and being casually romantic without any narrative balking. That’s fantastic! I’m so glad we have it! Its amazing that this adaptation exists.

But also yeah at the end of the day it did very much gloss over the dynamics and themes that personally drew me to the story in the first place. So at this point, I’m honestly more excited to see future seasons, once its finished with the first book’s storyline and delving more into the rest of the world and the characters.

I really loved the dedication to all the easter eggs and breadcrumb trails to future VC stuff. And it’s cool that they’re clearly already approaching the story with the rest of the world and future plot developments in mind — something I honestly doubt Rice did lol. So idk I think it’s going to be a fun, wild ride going forward! But I’m also mildly lukewarm about where we are with it now.

I’m hoping I’ll feel differently on a later rewatch where I know exactly what to expect from the story and where it’s going.

#amc iwtv spoilers #interview with the vampire #vampire chronicles #amc interview with the vampire #lol is putting this in the main tags a mistake? hopefully I won’t get yelled at!#i ramble sometimes

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years

Note

hello my dear! I’ve just found you through your birthday celebration. I can’t wait to read through your stuff, and hope you have a wonderful birthday. I’d be interested to see where you’d go with Lloyd Hansen and “You look adorable.”

Thanks and nice to meet you! 💕 (@nothoughtsjustmeds)

well HI darling!! thanks for popping by 🥰 oooooh okay this prompt is DELICIOUS and tbh, it could have gone one of two ways, and I went the more….unhinged route LOL but Lloyd is more than unhinged so I think it tracks. hope you enjoy!!!

tbh I love this cuz I’ve been low-key obsessed with the gray man since it came out, and I’ve got the starting of a Six fic idea too!!

I’m gonna put a few warnings on this one cuz ✨violence✨: blood, explicit language, mentions of torture (nothing graphic but specific methods mentioned), knife-play, lloyd being lloyd, reader is also a little unhinged

🔥friday night fever!🔥

Lloyd likes you covered in blood.

It shouldn’t shock you — shouldn’t shock anyone, given his track record — but the first time you waltz out of the room where they’re holding your latest captive, butterfly knife hanging from your grip and dripping red from shoulder to fingertip, he’s on his feet in an instant, already straining against his khakis and resisting the urge to lick his lips. Can’t waste the lip balm.

Your crazy matches his crazy, to a degree. Sure, at Harvard it was the Carmichael-Hansen show with a side of Suzanne Brewer, but you were there too, making a home in the shadows. Shadows you never truly removed yourself from, and Lloyd likes that. He’s drawn to it. You’re his first call when Hansen Government Services starts to gain some traction. No one wields that knife quite like you, not even Lloyd. You were the one who taught him, after all.

At school, you were his closest confidante. He told you everything, all the shit he wouldn’t tell Carmichael, and truthfully, you were the only one he showed his…softer side to. You fucked like bunnies all four years, anywhere and anytime you could. His favourite were your locker room rendezvous, the door locked and the rest of the jocks banging down the door, but he was too focused on fucking you senseless to give a damn about his angry teammates.

And the flip side, he’d show up at your late-night study session in the library, luring you into the stacks with that winning smile and quick wit, before dropping to his knees and worshipping at the altar of your cunt. He couldn’t stop, not until your thighs were trembling around his ears, your knuckle stuffed between your teeth to try and keep your moans at bay. Then he’d take you back into his frat house, letting you be as loud as he wanted, fraternity brothers be damned.

When he’d tried to bring you home for the holidays, you’d laughed in his face, but come New Years, you were seeking him out before the clock struck midnight, and he’d kissed you until he tasted copper on his tongue. It made you grin.

But then he fucked off and so did you, life and time and circumstance pulling you to opposite ends of the world for a time, then opposite sides of the country. He kept tabs on you pretty consistently, keeping an ear to the ground for his favourite knife-wielding siren. A few jobs had taken him right into your radar, and he can still remember the first time he saw you after all those years.

A split lip, blood streaking your arms, clothes torn six ways to Sunday and baring enough skin to make his memory jog. You looked good, that familiar feral spark in your eye — not unlike the one Lloyd sees when he looks in the mirror each day — and red lips quirking in a grin.

“How ya doin’, Hansen?” you’d drawled, spitting blood onto the floor. “It’s been a while.”

“You haven’t aged a day, sweet cheeks,” he threw back, smiling widely, crowding himself into your space like it belonged to him. In a way, it did — your Harvard days might have been long over, but he felt that familiar overprotective she’s mine nobody fucking touch her feeling that had once possessed him come flooding back. “Just as sexy as I remember.”

“Flatterer.”

His grin widened, gesturing to the bloody blade in your hand. “Murderer?”

You had closed the distance between you then, tilting your head back until your lips were just brushing his chin. “Just teaching a lesson, honey,” you said. “You know how it is.”

“I do,” he replied, looking down his nose at you. “I do. But you know, it’s been a while, like you said. I’m sure you’ve got a thing or two to teach me.”

You had barely made it into the backseat of his waiting SUV before he was yanking you onto his lap and ripping away what remained of your clothes.

You became a permanent fixture at Hansen Government Services after that, running your own ops and assisting Lloyd with the ones that required a more…delicate touch. Delicate meaning knife-worthy. You became Lloyd’s confidante once again, his safety deposit box for every secret and plan. You were the only one who refused to bullshit him, his hired hands trying too hard to get on his good side, too quick to kiss ass with a yes, Mr. Hansen, whatever you say, Mr. Hansen.

When he started rocking the stache, yours was the only opinion he gave a fuck about, and he was truly not expecting the reaction. “It’s hot,” you told him, your stare taking on that familiar lust-filled glaze he knows has become reserved for only him. “It’s very…seventies porn-star,” you continued, coming to perch yourself in his lap, rubbing your thumb over his lip, “but I like it.”

“If it turns you on, baby,” he replied, “then I’m never getting rid of it.”

“Good.”

Lloyd considers himself a patient man, to a degree. He knows himself, knows he can only go so far before he’s screaming and flipping tables, but the man currently tied to the chair in front of him apparently has a roadmap to his every last nerve, intent on playing them like a fucking guitar. The asshole has a thing for pain, it would seem — though Lloyd’s the first to admit he does too, obviously — because the high-voltage shocks and lack of fingernails aren’t taking him the places they normally do.

“You know,” he grinds out, voice climbing slightly, “I’m the lesser of two evils when it comes to torture. My lady? She’s next level. An artist with a knife, sexiest thing on two legs this side of the Mississippi, but when I tell you she likes making big boys like you cry, I mean she’ll make you weep, starshine. Comprende?”

The fucker spits in Lloyd’s face, and he storms from the room.

You’re waiting there on the other side, perched on the table in the middle of the room, flipping your favourite butterfly blade between your fingers, twirling it over your knuckles absentmindedly. You’re an absolute goddess to him, the picture of terror and beauty all wrapped into one, watching him with dark eyes as he comes towards you.

“Sweetheart, angel, baby,” he murmurs, stepping into the space between your knees when you part your legs for him, welcoming him into your warmth that instantly eases a bit of the anger crawling up his spine. “Work your magic for me?”

You smirk, and Lloyd hisses when he feels the tip of your blade press into the underside of his jaw. Not enough to hurt — never hard enough to draw blood — but enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “What are you gonna give me in exchange?”

Lloyd sighs, tilting his head back as you draw the knife lightly down the middle of his throat, leaning up to drag your tongue along the path you’ve made. “Besides my undying love and affection?”

You scrunch your nose. “I have those already.”

“Dinner at that Italian place in LA,” he offers, and your eyes light up, “and tonight, I’ll do that thing you like.”

A blissful smile crosses your lips, and you flip the knife closed, grabbing his jaw in your hand and giving him a quick kiss. “You always do that thing I like.”

He watches you walk away, towards the room where the captive is, knife flipping around in your fingers once again, hips swaying as you go. It’s less than five minutes before he hears screaming, and he grins at the guards surrounding the room. “God, I love that crazy bitch.”

Another five minutes, the door swings open, and there you are again, his fucking dream girl. Like he made you in a lab. Feral grin, those to-die-for hips, and dripping crimson along your forearms. You’re still twirling the knife.

His jaw drops, and Lloyd is quick to adjust himself, springing out of his seat and walking towards you. “You look adorable,” he croons, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you roughly, putting his true intentions into the kiss. “You get what we need?”

You rattle off the information the captive had spilled, every detail you’d been hired to find, and Lloyd grins like a kid on Christmas morning.

Lloyd’s crazy, sure.

Crazy for you.

—————

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#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #the gray man #friday night fever #my fics

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sluttyten · 3 years

Text

the cinderella search

summary: you’re a staff member at SM, and during the annual Halloween party, you go dressed as Cinderella. Enter Johnny as Prince Charming. You talk, you flirt, he falls in love, but you forget to tell him your name before the night ends, and thus begins his Cinderella Search.

length: 10,615

tags: near-strangers to lovers, bed sharing, fingering, dry humping, fluff, light on the smut compared to some of my other works tbh

Growing up, Cinderella had always been your favorite fairy tale. You just really loved the glamor and romance of the story, the idea of dressing up all beautifully and mysteriously, going to a ball to be noticed by the Prince.

And once you grew up, you still had that fantasy tucked away in the back of your mind, made more real when you entered the idol industry by joining SM Entertainment as a staff member. You were just a minor staff member, not important enough to be a manager (though that was the dream), but you were around idols so often that the fantasy was there, prodding you in the back of your mind.

There were days when you dreamed of being swept up in a Cinderella-style romance with one of the idols in the company.

“I can’t blame you one bit,” your close friend Jiwon tells you one day. She’s a makeup artist for the company; she’s seen their bare faces, seen them up close and personal, and having worked there for longer than you, she knows various artists under the company better than you do. “I won’t disagree with you at all that a secret romance with one of them would be amazing. Just like a drama. I want Kyungsoo to be my prince charming.” She sighs dreamily. “I can’t wait for the Halloween party.”

That’s exactly what you’ve been talking about almost non-stop since you first heard that it was happening this year. With the party not having happened for a few years now due to one thing or another, this year it’s come back with a bang, and when the memo was put out that every staff member was invited to come in costume as well, just as a celebration for how hard everyone’s worked, it’s all that pretty much everyone’s been talking about. You’re excited that you get to go, that you get to dress up as well, and what caused Jiwon to start gushing about D.O. is you mentioning that you wanted to go dressed as Cinderella.

“Promise we can get ready together?” She asks you. “I really, really want to do your hair and makeup, I can already picture it.” Jiwon holds her fingers up, framing your face between them.

It helped that you already had the dress to wear for your costume. You’d spotted it a few years ago in a thrift shop, and because of your pure love for Cinderella, as soon as you saw the dress, you knew that you had to have it. Sure, it had been collecting dust in your closet for a couple years, but now you had found the perfect use for it at last.

The day of the Halloween party, Jiwon comes over just as she’d planned, taking as much of the day as she possibly can to make you up and style your hair to make you look like the Cinderella of her imagination. She’s just going simply, wearing all black with some cat ears, some whiskers drawn on her face, but most of her attention to detail is poured into her work on you.

By the time she finishes the last touch, you’re ready to leave. Already you’re going to be cutting it close to showing up late, so as she drops her brushes back in the bag she brought, you grab your phone, and make for the door.

“Oh no, you’re not finished yet.” She snakes her hand around your arm, bringing you to a halt. Jiwon tuts at you. “Cinderella can’t go to the ball without her mask.”

Like a true fairy godmother, Jiwon pulls a beautiful mask out of the makeup bag. “I saw this when I was shopping for my costume, and I knew it would just be perfect. You can’t be Cinderella and have everyone know who you are, that goes against the point of being Cinderella, right?”

She carefully sits the mask on your made-up face, ties the ribbons around the back of your head, trying not to disturb the work she put into your hair.

“Can we go now, fairy godmother?” You ask. “Before midnight, preferably.”

The fairytale vibe of the night truly hits home once you arrive at the party’s venue. Everyone’s in costumes, and at first it’s overwhelming because you can’t immediately distinguish the idols from the staff from the higher-ups in the company. As you and Jiwon step inside, you can only make out a few distinct people.

Red Velvet’s Irene is dressed like an actual goddess, complete with an array of stars in an arc around her (an interesting choice that definitely makes sure no one gets too close to her). You spot Chanyeol standing tall over the group of people he’s talking with too. And then you see him.

Prince Charming.

Johnny Suh.

He looks breathtakingly handsome, wearing a white uniform adorned with golden tassels and medals. His hair is gelled back from his face, and he’s in the middle of laughing at the princess beside him, though her back is to you. Johnny literally looks like a prince with his face full of sunlit radiance, and in that moment your heart yearns. You wish you had a Prince Charming, but it’s clear that this one already has his princess.

And then she turns around with a flip of her long, dark wavy hair.

You burst out laughing so loud that Jiwon hits your arm to make you quiet down.

Hendery is dressed as a princess, clinging to Johnny’s arm as Jungwoo and Ten stand there with them, both of them laughing along with the costumed couple.

There are several other princesses you soon realize. Staff members and female artists have both dressed as princesses, and the more of them you see, the more you think that you’re not the Cinderella of this ball. There’s others that shine with more glitz and glamor than your thrifted dress ever could. So you mostly stick to yourself, seated at a table in the corner, sipping at your drink to avoid talking to a drunk coworker when he stumbles into his seat at the table.

You just watch the party, suddenly no longer feeling it because the best looking man here tonight is clearly Johnny Suh (which you’ve thought that numerous times before, but especially so tonight) and it’s obvious that everyone else thinks so too. He wins a prize. He has people coming up to him all night, fawning over him, running their fingers through the tassels on his shoulders.

“Stop pouting,” Jiwon tells you as she drops down into the seat beside yours. She sits a fresh drink down in front of you. “Just drink this down and come have fun with me. We can mingle and actually get the chance to speak to some of these idols we never work with.”

You know she has her eyes on D.O. who’s standing in a clear line of sight from where you’re both sitting, holding an audience of a few people captive with his story.

“You go.” You nod toward him. “Here’s your chance, Jiwon.”

She frowns at you. “I didn’t spend so long making you look like Cinderella just for you to sit all glum in the corner. You look fantastic, darling, and if you don’t get up and show off that lovely dress and your beautiful face, then we can’t be friends anymore.” She folds her arms in front of her and pouts.

“If I go get some more drinks, does that count?”

“It’s an improvement at least.” She sighs. “I’m going to try to talk to him. While I’m gone, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She eyes your coworker who’s slumped over in his chair now, starting to snore. “And make sure he doesn’t puke on himself.”

You have no intention of babysitting a guy who takes every opportunity to steal credit from you, so you definitely leave the table as soon as Jiwon walks away.

You’re standing at the bar area, waiting for the man behind the counter to make the drink you’d requested, when someone comes up beside you, just a figure in the corner of your eye. It’s only when he speaks that you look up to see who he actually is.

“I think you dropped this,” Johnny says, and he’s holding up one of the satiny blue gloves you’d worn tonight. You’d taken them off while you ate, and you forgot you’d tucked them in the ribbon around your waist.

“Oh, thank you.” You incline your head and reach for the glove, but when your fingers brush Johnny’s, you pull away with your whole hand tingling. “I probably dropped the other one somewhere too.” You look around, searching the floor.

Johnny chuckles. “No, it’s still right there.”

You feel a blush rising to your cheeks, and you’re grateful that you’re wearing the mask that hides most of your face. The other glove is still safely tucked at your waist, and as Johnny tells the bartender what he’d like, you pull both gloves onto your hands.

“Here’s your drink, Princess.” The man behind the counter winks as he says it, pushing the drink toward you. “And yours, Prince Charming.”

You take your drink and start to walk away, planning to head back to your comfortable corner to drink alone in peace, but then you notice Johnny just a step behind you.

“I think you’re the only person dressed as a princess tonight that hasn’t come up to talk to me tonight.” He says, “Which is unfortunate, since I saw you the moment you walked in, and I wanted to come talk to you then, but Hendery wouldn’t let go of me. I think you deserved best costume; I’ve never seen a better Cinderella.”

His flattery works wonders on melting what nervousness you have in talking with him. Johnny’s all but a stranger to you. You don’t work closely with NCT, but on the few occasions you’ve gotten to work with them, Johnny was always such a large personality, so nice and funny and handsome. Maybe you definitely have a ridiculous crush on him. But it’s always been foolish and far-fetched.

This is the first conversation you’ve ever had with him, and you don’t quite make it back to that table in the back corner. Johnny drags you down to sit beside him at his table, and even though you’re surrounded by the other members, the way he’s looking at you as you talk makes it feel like it’s only the two of you in the whole building.

You finish your drink, lose track of time, and by the time that the party’s really and truly ending, you’ve forgotten everything but the way that Johnny looks at you, the sound of his voice, and how much that you have in common with him. Maybe it’s ridiculous to form such a deep connection with someone at a party, especially when tomorrow you go back to being just a lowly staff member and he’s a world-famous idol.

But Princess Hendery is the one to break up this intimate conversation. His hand lands on Johnny’s shoulder, and Johnny’s head snaps around.

“Hyung, your ride’s about to leave.” Hendery pats Johnny’s shoulder, and then points down the length of the table to a man you recognize as an NCT manager. A tipsy Jaehyun walks by, his fingers twisting in the neck of Johnny’s uniform, and he leans in to whisper something in Johnny’s ear, his fingers slipping down to get a better grip on Johnny’s uniform, and then he’s dragging Johnny out of his seat, pulling him away out the door with their manager before you can get another word in.

You look around then, somewhat dazed at being pulled back into non-Johnny reality, and also slightly buzzed from your drinks, and you realize that the room has emptied out around you, only a handful of people remain. Including Jiwon. She’s bright red and grinning from ear to ear, leaning on a man in costume.

You refuse to let her make any drunken mistakes tonight, so you make your way over, loop your arm around her waist. “Come on, fairy godmother, it’s midnight and we need to get home before the spell wears off.”

Jiwon moans and groans, reluctantly letting you lead her out of the party at last, taking her home to pass out on your sofa.

And it’s a bit later as you fall into bed fresh from your shower with all the makeup washed away now, as you look happily at the photos you’d taken with Jiwon and some selfies you’d snapped several times throughout the night, that you tragically remember that you never gave Johnny your name.

By tragedy or fate or something else against you in the universe, you don’t get to see Johnny again before your position in the company takes you overseas. Not long term, just for a month. But during that month you build a lot of experience toward achieving your dream of becoming a manager for a group, getting your hands almost within reach of that prized promotion.

And as for your Cinderella moment, you try to put it out of your mind, just as you’re sure Johnny’s done. Over a month has passed since the Halloween party, and you doubt he even remembers the Cinderella he spent the night talking to. Even if he does remember, you feel that any chance has long since passed for you to find him and tell him it was you.

On your first day back within the building, you’ve barely made it inside before Jiwon finds you.

You hear her slippers slapping against the ground as she runs toward you, and then she loops her arm through yours in a vice. “Come with me. We need to talk,” she whispers conspiratorially, dragging you into the elevator with her.

“I didn’t want to tell you this while you were away dealing with everything, but,” she says excitedly in a hushed voice so no one overhears, “As your self-designated fairy godmother, I thought I should definitely give you a little heads up. Johnny’s been looking for Cinderella.”

Your heart thuds in your chest. “What?”

“Everyone’s heard him asking around casually about who’d been Cinderella that night, but you sneaky thing!” She pinches your side. “How did you manage to go the whole night without telling anyone who you were?”

Had you? You’d definitely talked with several other staff members at the start of the night, including your supervisor. At least one of them must have recognized you, right? But looking back now, maybe you hadn’t talked in particular about anything that would have given away who you were, and you don’t remember any of them calling you by name or even acknowledging that you were in their department.

You’re still trying to wrap your head around it when the elevator doors open, and Jiwon walks out, still arm-in-arm with you.

“Look, it’s even a company-wide kind of meme.” She points at a bulletin board nearby where normally notices about events and deadlines and everything are hung. But now there’s also a sheet of paper with the word WANTED at the top, a badly pixellated image of the Disney version of Cinderella beneath that, and below that LAST SEEN: SM HALLOWEEN PARTY. In tiny font beneath contact NCT Johnny if you have any information.

“What the hell?” You look around to see if anyone else is looking, and then you step forward and tear it off the bulletin board. “What are people thinking? What if this shows up in the background of a video?” Idols pass through here semi-frequently with cameras on them for one reason or another. You can only imagine the chaos of fans reacting to such a notice as this Cinderella one.

Jiwon laughs as you crumple the sheet up and toss it in a nearby trashcan. “At this point, everyone’s started assuming Cinderella was just a random party-crasher or a ghost since she hasn’t come forward.” She pats your shoulder comfortingly. “One of the aespa girls almost confessed to him that it was her.”

A flare of jealous heat sparks to life in your belly. “Well, it definitely wasn’t!”

“Of course not! She was dressed like a princess too, but not anything remotely Cinderella-esque.” Someone walks into the elevator area, so Jiwon drops her voice to a whisper once more as she tries to urge you, “You should go tell him that you’re his Cinderella! It would be so cute!”

“Are you kidding?” You hiss, glancing over at the man waiting for an elevator. “Look at me, Jiwon. He’d take one look and laugh that I couldn’t possibly be Cinderella. I don’t look anything like I did that night.” You gesture at the very casual outfit you’re wearing, your drastically less made-up face, and just everything about you. You’d truly experienced some kind of magical transformation that night courtesy of the woman beside you. “I couldn’t tell him. Plus, it’s been over a month. Is he really still looking for Cinderella? I’d have given up by this point, like you said, just thinking it was a random party-crasher or something. Plus, if this is like an actual Cinderella moment, it’s not like anything romantic can happen between him and I. It’s against policy.”

Jiwon shakes her head, disappointed. “You’re such a party pooper, darling. And, you’re right, this isn’t a fairytale, okay? I get that. It’s real life and there’s actual consequences, so I won’t blame you if you don’t tell him. But come on, the risk is well worth the reward here, I would think. This job or Johnny? The choice is obvious to me.”

Maybe once you would have agreed. Choosing the literal man of your dreams (because Johnny has been showing up in your dreams with some amount of frequency ever since Halloween) would have been an easy choice before you’d actually landed a position in SM Entertainment. Even then, it wouldn’t have been a crazy choice in your mind. But more recently things have changed.

“They’re promoting me.” You shake Jiwon loose so you can face her properly. “That’s what the whole point of me being overseas for the last month was. Training me up, seeing if I had the potential to really be a manager. And that’s my dream job, you know. I don’t think the risk is worth the reward in this case. But damn,” you sigh, catching sight of a screen showing a clip from one of NCT’s music videos, Johnny’s face filling the screen. “I wish it was possible.”

To give up your dream job just for the possibility of a romance with an idol seemed far-fetched and stupid.

So you ignore the Cinderella search. It’s not like you ever even see Johnny, so it’s not a problem at all.

Until the day comes when you officially receive your promotion.

“You’re being promoted,” your supervisor tells you, “NCT needs a new manager, and you’re best qualified for the job.”

Your stomach feels like it drops to the floor. “What?”

You’d been expecting that you were going to get to help manage a new group, or at least maybe aespa. You didn’t think they’d throw you to the wolves that was the confusing mess of NCT’s schedules. So it was a nightmare wrapped in a thin layer of a dream, and right at the heart of it all was Johnny Suh.

You were so nervous on your first day as a manager (because of course, you couldn’t manage one of the other units, you had to be assigned to 127) that Johnny would recognize you on the spot, call you out on being Cinderella, and make a scene. But you were equally as nervous that he wouldn’t recognize you at all.

The latter turned out to be the truer though not entirely accurate.

When you were introduced to the members, Johnny gave you a kind smile, and then said, “Hey, I recognize you.”

Your heart stopped and then started beating at what felt like double-time. “You do?”

He nods. “Yeah, you’ve worked with us before, right?”

Ah. Your heart rate slows back to normal. “Yeah, yes, I have. Just a few times.”

Then he repeats your name back to you as if making sure that he’s got it right, and an hour later you’re still thinking about the way that your name sounds from his lips.

That feeling doesn’t pass, not for a while.

Slowly you grow more comfortable and relaxed in your role a manager for the group. You get used to the stunning presence of the handsome men. You get used to the sound of Johnny’s voice and his laugh. You get used to driving the members around, shuttling them to and from schedules, getting them what they need, managing them and managing your feelings.

And best of all, you never hear Johnny mention Halloween or Cinderella, which makes it much easier to put it all from your mind. Well, somewhat easier. Jiwon refuses to let you forget; she calls herself your fairy godmother all the time, calls you princess, teases you when you mention stories that involve Johnny, which is most of them because within several weeks of you becoming a manager for the unit, you and Johnny have actually grown quite close.

“Oh, come on!” Jiwon exclaims one evening as she stretches out on your bed. “I’m tired of all of these cute, funny stories about Johnny! I want gushy romantic, hot stories.” She rolls over onto her stomach and looks at you. “God, let me tell you, one time when I was doing their makeup the stylist had to make an alteration on his pants, and that man whipped off his pants with no shame and stood there in his underwear for me to do his makeup. Babe, I know you’re already mentally going through hoops to avoid thinking about him, but trust me that you would reconsider if you had seen his--”

You slap your hand over her mouth. “Don’t.”

“No need to sound so pained about it.” She pushes your hand away. “I don’t know why you’re fighting this so hard. Yeah, you’re a manager, but you and him are fully grown adults. This is a stupid policy because from the stories you’ve told me, if you and Johnny were just alone for like an hour together, you would probably end up together.”

You roll your eyes. There have been times you’ve been alone with Johnny, driving him to or from a schedule. It wasn’t like there was undeniable sexual tension in that van or anything like that. And even if Jiwon means totally alone in a non-mobile setting, you doubt anything like that would happen, but you’ve never yet had the chance to find out.

When the first winter storm hits, you’re driving Taeyong back to the dorm from a solo schedule he’d had that had run long. It’s very late. Taeyong dozes in the passenger seat, you’re yawning every other minute, and as you enter the city limits you realize that it’s starting to snow large, fluffy flakes that are coating everything they touch.

The city’s been extremely cold lately, so you’re not surprised that the snow isn’t melting, just piling up, making it hard to see at times.

By the time you reach the dorm, the roads are slushy and slick. Snow blows across the streets in waves.

Taeyong’s schedule had been a three-day event, so he has a few items to unload, and due to the sharp cold breeze and how deep asleep he’d been just moment before, you help Taeyong unload and carry his belongings up to the dorm. Your shoes squeak on the floor, and by the time you reach the door of the dorm, you’re both still shivering.

The door opens with a chime, and as you come inside, you see Johnny’s sitting at the kitchen table playing on his phone and eating cereal. Taeyong mumbles something, toes off his shoes, drops his bags, and just stumbles off to bed, too sleepy to even do anything else.

Johnny’s watching you as you let out a big yawn and sit what you’d been carrying down beside the rest.

You run your fingers over your hair, brushing away the last snowflakes that cling somewhat intact to your hair. “It’s snowing pretty good out there. I haven’t seen snow like this in years.”

Johnny glances over at the large window of their living room. The puffs of snow float by, lit up by all the city lights, and he stands up, walking over to press his face to the glass, looking down at the street below and the rooftops around their building. Everything’s already covered in a pretty decent amount of snow.

“It’s beautiful out there.” Johnny is pressed to the glass, looking out at everything.

Before you can register what’s happening (it is very late and you’re half-asleep on your feet, so excuse you if you’re a little slow at the moment), Johnny’s walking back past you, grabbing his coat from the back of a chair with one hand, and taking your hand with the other. He guides you along by the hand down through the building, out into the falling snow.

“What are we doing?” You ask, folding your arms around yourself as Johnny releases your hand once you’re outside. Shock at the situation kept you silent until then. “You shouldn’t be out here. You’ll catch a cold.”

Johnny laughs. “I’ll be fine. Come take my picture.” He walks out into the snow-covered street, tilting his head back to the sky, arms held out. The streetlight just down the road casts Johnny and the snow in a silver light, and he’s so beautiful in that moment that you’d be crazy not to take a photo, so you pull out your phone and start taking pictures of him.

This photoshoot goes on for several minutes before you pause to check a photo you just took, and for your efforts of trying to be a good photographer, you get a snowball right to the shoulder. Johnny’s laugh is loud in the muted silence of the falling snow, and he only laughs louder when you shove your phone into your jacket pocket and duck down to form a snowball of your own.

The snow fight lasts until you’re both pink-cheeked, sniffling in the cold air, and neither of you can feel your fingertips anymore.

“I’m t-too cold to keep this g-going.” Johnny laughs and shivers, tucking his hands into his armpits as he walks toward you.

“I - I should get going anyway.” Your teeth chatter together. “I still need to get home, and it’s late.”

“Come up for c-coffee,” Johnny suggests, his eyes lingering on you and the snow caught in your hair, wreathing your face. “You’re clearly tired and cold. You need some coffee.”

Damn your heart and Johnny’s good intentions. You follow him back up to the dorm, and while you shuck off your coat and wet shoes and damp socks, Johnny starts making you both some coffee. And minutes later, you’re still shivering as you clasp a warm mug between both of your hands, sitting next to Johnny while he swipes through your camera roll to check out the photos of him you’d just taken.

You know that you should leave. It’s not appropriate for you to just be hanging out at the dorm. You should put your coat and shoes back on, take the coffee to go, and head home so you can get some sleep before you have to work tomorrow. Just as you’re about to say something along those lines, your phone buzzes against the table and Johnny makes a soft, oh.

“What?” You lean closer, sitting the mug down on the table.

“It’s a weather alert.” Johnny looks up at you, and for a moment neither of you speak or move or breathe. You’re so close together right now. You can see all of the little water droplets stubbornly clinging to his eyelashes from the snow. You can smell the coffee on his breath and something a little sweet too. But then Johnny snaps his mouth closed and leans back a little, just putting some distance between you and him.

He clears his throat, then says, “It says the roads are really bad, that it’s just going to get worse. You should probably just stay here tonight, and I feel like you’re going to argue with that, but honestly, it’s for your own safety. Roads are dangerous, plus you’re already cold and tired. That’s a bad combination. You’re just going to have to be back here in a few hours to pick us up anyway since hyung is gone.”

You’d forgotten about that. The manager that normally stays at the dorm with them is gone for the week. That’s why you had to be the one to take Taeyong to his solo schedule, and why you were going to have to be up earlier than normal for work tomorrow. Maybe Johnny has a good point.

Johnny looks away from you, back down at your phone, and he swipes away the notification, then makes a little frown.

You look down as well, and there you see that your phone has gone back to the screen showing all of your photos, and there, just barely visible at the top of the screen, is a photo you’d taken of yourself in the Cinderella costume on the night of the Halloween party.

Johnny inhales and the silence as you wait for his exhale seems to last an eternity.

“You were--”

You push back from the table, already reaching to pull your shoes back onto your feet, forgetting entirely about your wet socks. “I’d really better leave.”

You’re halfway to the door, hopping on one foot, struggling to get your second foot into it’s boot, when Johnny loops his hand at your elbow, helping to steady you as you’d nearly just tipped over onto your face.

“Please don’t leave.” He pleads.

You look up at him. Your foot thumps heavily down onto the ground. “Johnny.... please. I shouldn’t stay here, I could get in trouble with the company.”

His eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them before. “Please stay. It’s dangerous out there, I’ve said that already. If anyone has a problem with you staying here overnight for your own safety, then I’ll vouch for you. I’ll make the others vouch too.” His hand slides from your elbow down to your wrist, holding loosely now that you don’t seem to be in such a rush to leave. A slow, crooked smile appears on his lips. “And anyway, Cinderella, you’re supposed to leave a shoe behind, not your wet socks.”

You roll your eyes, but you smile as well. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

“That you’re the Cinderella I’ve been looking for for months now?” Johnny’s hand slips even lower on your wrist until his fingers are just clasping your hand. “Why didn’t you want to tell me? I had so much fun talking with you that night, and after we left I realized I hadn’t even found out who you were.”

You shiver now that your feet are back inside your wet shoes.

Johnny clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Take your shoes off. You’re staying. Go on. Sit right there.” He points at the chair beside the table. “I’ll be right back. Don’t you dare leave.”

His voice is so commanding, you wouldn’t dare leave now. He walks out of the kitchen, and when he returns a moment later, he’s carrying a change of clothes for you from his own closet.

“I know it’s your job to worry about us,” he says, holding out the clothes to you. “But please let me take care of you too. Don’t catch a cold. You can go shower in the bathroom off my room, put these on. You’re staying here tonight.”

You nod, accepting the sweater and slick basketball shorts.

When you emerge from the shower several minutes later, feeling much more thoroughly warmed, the lights in the dorm have all been turned off, but Johnny’s sitting on the sofa now with his phone lighting up his face. It’s very, very late. He looks as if he could nod off right there, but as you walk closer to him, he blinks up at you. A smile breaks across his otherwise sleepy expression.

“What?” You ask, sinking down onto the sofa with him. There’s a blanket draped over the back, and Johnny immediately pulls it down over your shoulders. You clasp the edges of it together in front of you. “Why are you smiling like that? Are you feeling feverish or something?” You lift a hand and immediately check his forehead with the back of your hand, but he doesn’t feel warm.

Johnny, still smiling, reaches up to lightly bat away your hand as he sighs and rests his head against the cushiony back of the sofa, staring at you. “No, like.... It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

“You gave them to me.” You reply, amused at the dopey look on his face.

“I know.” Johnny whispers. “You just look really good in them.”

Your heart flutters in the way that you know you shouldn’t let it. This is Johnny. You’re his manager. This is inappropriate to be feeling this way about him. It’s definitely inappropriate to be sitting on a sofa in the dark with him, wearing his clothes, having just showered in his shower using his shampoo and body wash. But it feels good.

You lean your head against the sofa’s back too, draw your knees up toward your chest, and you look right back at Johnny in the same way he’s looking at you. You whisper, “You should go to bed. We all have to be up in a few hours.”

He bites his bottom lip and then stretches out a risky hand to touch yours. When you don’t pull away or tell him not to, Johnny keeps going, turning your hand over, pulling it into his lap. He touches your palm, caresses your fingers, treating you like you’re fragile and delicate like a little princess.

“Johnny,” you whisper a few moments later when he’s still just holding your hand, making no effort to go to bed. “Go.”

“There’s so much snow out there.” He says after another few seconds. “There’s no way that we’ll still have our schedules tomorrow. By the time morning really comes, we’re going to be buried in. I was looking at the weather while you were showering, and it’s not showing any sign of stopping before at least tomorrow night.”

“Banking on your schedule being cancelled doesn’t mean you don’t have to go to bed.” Your hand shakes slightly as you lift it, trembling with the risky nature of what you do next. Johnny’s hair is soft and his face is pleasantly warm as you push a few loose strands away from his face.

Johnny exhales at the feel of your fingertips just barely brushing his skin. “Come to bed with me. Haechan’s not here. He’s upstairs tonight.”

You noticed that as you crept into Johnny’s room to use that bathroom. Both of the beds were empty.

It’s tempting to give in, to follow him into that bedroom and let the door close behind you as you get into bed with him. You’re sure that sharing a bed with Johnny would be very warm and comforting in this snowy cold night. But you can’t.

“Johnny.” Your voice trembles ever so slightly. “I can’t. I’m your manager, and it just.... I could get in trouble.”

“You’re still shivering from the cold,” he argues, “Basically hypothermic. I’m just trying to keep you healthy, trying to save you from freezing. No one would know but us. If the others ask questions, I’ll make excuses.” He smiles, and that almost does it for you.

You shake your head, close your eyes, turn your head away from him so you’re not faced with the temptation. “No. I’m serious. You should go to bed. I’ll stay right here. Just here.” You pat the sofa. “I’ll be comfy and this blanket’s warm.”

“Fine.” Johnny sighs, and he stands up, still holding your hand. “But don’t think that you can sneak out, Cinderella. Okay?”

You squeeze his hand lightly. “I’m not going anywhere, Johnny.”

He leans in so quickly that there’s no time for you to even protest before he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek. And then he’s gone, vanishing into his bedroom as you sit frozen on the sofa, looking after him.

It takes a long time to fall asleep after that. Just you lying there in the dark with the blanket tugged up to your chin, listening to all of the unfamiliar sounds of the dorm, watching the snow drift by outside the window, shivering in the chill air.

After nearly an hour of silence and cold and overthinking, you sit up, gather the blanket around your shoulders, and you tiptoe across the living room to the door of Johnny’s bedroom.

When you reach the door, you stand there in hesitation, your knuckles hovering just inches from the door. You’re being silly. Ridiculous. You’re putting the future of your career in jeopardy by just standing here before his doorway and contemplating going inside. You shift your weight uncertainly, drop your hand to your side, consider turning back and walking to the sofa, but before you can move, the door swings open and you’re faced with Johnny’s chest.

You lift your gaze slowly to his face.

“I could almost hear you thinking through the door,” he says with a smile, and then he steps aside, “Why don’t you come in?”

“It’s just cold out there,” you mumble as you step inside, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders. “I was going to ask if you had another blanket.”

Johnny hums in a way that tells you that he doesn’t buy your lie one bit. He closes the door behind him, his back braced against it as he faces you. “I can’t believe that all this time you’ve been my Cinderella.” He shakes his head, gaze wandering over the shadowy shape of you.

His room is dark but your eyes are adjusted just enough that you can see him fairly well in the faint light coming in through the window. So you can see as he pushes away from the door, as he steps toward you. Your body tingles in anticipation, your fingertips go numb so you curl them into fists in your blanket, and Johnny stops right in front of you.

“It’s well past midnight, Cinderella,” he whispers. “The ball is ended, the magic spell is worn off, and you’re still just as beautiful and fascinating and enchanting as you were that night.” His hands come up to the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, fingers tucking underneath. Your grip on the blanket loosens even as Johnny starts to move the blanket.

It falls away, pooling at your feet.

“Johnny.”

His thumb brushes along your jawline. Your body feels on fire, your fingers burn with the desire to touch him too. So you do, curling your fingers at his hips, his skin warm under yours, and Johnny takes a shuffling step just a bit closer to you, his bare toes bumping against yours.

“Johnny,” you repeat his name, lifting your chin to look him in the eye. “Kiss me?”

He doesn’t wait for you to ask him again. Johnny leans in and catches your lips in a kiss. His palm rests against the side of your neck, his thumb still stroking at your jaw. When you try to press closer, to deepen the kiss, Johnny backs away.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, clenching your hands at his sides.

Johnny chuckles, dipping forward to kiss your forehead. And then he kisses you again. He takes a step back, you follow, and another, and then he’s sinking down onto his bed, his hands moving to your hips to guide you to straddle his lap, not breaking the kiss as you do.

Making out with Johnny Suh is certainly not what you imagined you’d be doing tonight when you brought Taeyong home from his schedule, but here you are, sitting in his lap in his bed, his hands on your hips, and your mouth on his.

“Wait,” he mumbles, pulling back momentarily. “Let me put some music on or something.”

You don’t want to move from his lap, but you let him lean away, reaching back across his bed toward the pillows to grab his phone. He taps at the screen for a few moments, and then music—soft enough to not wake anyone but just loud enough to mask any sounds the two of you may make—begins to play over his Bluetooth speakers.

As Johnny sits back up, leaving his phone tucked beneath his pillow, you admire the sight of him. His abs. His chest. His arms.

You’ve seen Johnny shirtless before in dressing rooms, for photo shoots and video shoots. But seeing him like this, in the half light of his bedroom with the tingling reminder of his lips on yours, is a completely different experience.

Like a magnet, he finds you again. His mouth on yours, kiss unrestrained under the cover of the music, letting out tiny little moans as he kisses you. Each sound brings a smile to your lips, and after a few moments, you’re grinning into the kiss, twisting your fingers into his hair, and Johnny smiles as he fits his hands under your borrowed sweatshirt, his fingers chilly on your heated waist and belly.

His fingers shift higher and higher, and your breath hitches as he caressed your breast.

“Alright?” He murmurs, giving you a moment to answer while he kisses the corner of your mouth, skimming his lips over your jaw, down your throat.

You shiver, twisting your fingers a little more tightly in his hair, shifting just that much closer to him. You can feel every inch of him against you, your body burns and tingles, your heart racing in your chest.

“So good,” you moan softly, tugging lightly on his hair to bring his mouth back to yours.

Johnny smiles into the kiss, his thumb drifting attentively over your nipple. Slowly he eases backwards until he’s flat on his back and you lie against his chest, still just kissing him and yearning to feel his hands touching you everywhere, not just your breast. You shiver against him again, and Johnny is gentle as he rolls you under him, as he tugs the blankets up over your bodies.

“Still cold, Cinderella?” He teases, his nose bumping against your cheek.

You push a section of his hair back behind his ear, spend a few seconds lingering there, your thumb against his face. He’s so handsome, and you being here beneath him in his bed, it’s unreal. Like a dream. Like a fairytale Cinderella moment you never thought you’d have because he’s an SM Prince, and who are you? Hardly any better than a servant.

Johnny shifts to the side, looking down at you. “What are you thinking about? You’ve got that expression.” He lifts a finger and traces the furrow between your eyebrows.

“I’m just thinking how I don’t belong here.” You sigh, looking away to the window. Your hand is on his arm and you absentmindedly stroke over his sunflower tattoo, mirroring the movements of his thumb moving back and forth on your waist beneath the sweatshirt.

Johnny’s lips touch against your throat, pulling a sigh from your lips, to which he asks, “What do you mean you don’t belong here? And don’t tell me again that it’s because you’re a manager.”

But that’s exactly why.

“Stay here. With me.” Johnny withdraws his hand from beneath your sweatshirt. “If you feel like this is moving too fast, we can stop here. We can go to sleep. Just sleep.”

He moves back an inch or two, just as much as his narrow twin bed will allow, but you don’t want him to go far. You scoot closer again, still gripping his arm. Johnny smiles at that. You sink your head onto the pillow, look up at him. “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Johnny brings his hand up, tracing his knuckles lightly along your cheek in a way that makes your heart pound and your toes and fingertips tingle in delight, in the need for reciprocation, to touch him and hold him too. But you bring your hands up to your chest, clench them into tight fists inside the sleeves of the sweater, will yourself to not touch him because if you do, you’re pretty sure you won’t be able to stop yourself from going further.

“You promise you won’t run away after I close my eyes?” Johnny asks.

“I promise.” You watch as Johnny stands up from the bed, and he hesitates then for a moment, looking down at you, his hands on his hips. You think, for a moment, that he’s about to tell you goodnight and sleep in Haechan’s bed instead. But he takes a deep breath, his thumbs tracing along the waistband of his sweatpants.

“So, normally, I do sleep in my underwear. I get hot at night, so it’s just a lot more comfortable for me.” He explains, glancing away as he admits this. You have a feeling that he might actually normally sleep naked, but given that you’ve both agreed to draw the line at making out and some light touching tonight, being naked in bed with you might be a bit more than you wanted.

You appreciate his unspoken question, a request for you to consent to him stripping to his underwear to sleep in bed with you. But it’s his bed, in his bedroom, in his apartment where you still feel you don’t entirely belong. You’re the intruder here. And besides--

“I like to sleep in my underwear too,” you tell him. “So it works out.”

Beneath the blanket, you shimmy easily out of the silky basketball shorts Johnny had lent you, and as you drop them out over the side of the bed, you watch Johnny swallow, his throat bobbing even as he smiles a little. You watch too as his thumbs tuck under the waistband of his pants, and then he’s pushing them down, kicking them off, slipping back into the narrow bed with you.

You keep the sweater on, but the bare skin of your legs, from toe to hip feel so free beneath the sheets, and when Johnny’s knee knocks into yours, you feel it from the point of contact all the way through your body. You’re hyper-aware of him, more than you’ve ever been with anyone else probably.

And then you lift your leg a little, draping it over one of his so your knee rests between both of his. You prop yourself on your side a bit, a hand tucked under the pillow. Johnny faces you too.

“Goodnight, Cinderella,” he whispers.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

You don’t remember falling asleep. One moment you were listening to the music softly playing still from the speakers, to the even sound of Johnny breathing. And then you’re woken by the sound of your phone ringing while the sky outside is still a dim shade of gray.

Your phone’s in the pocket of the shorts on the floor, so you fumble around for a moment before finally fishing them out of the pocket. You stab at the button to answer the call, squinting against the brightness of the screen.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone.

Johnny shifts beside you, his hand sliding over your belly where the sweatshirt has ridden up through the night. His thumb touches the lacy edge of your panties. You close your eyes and focus on breathing, on listening to whoever’s interrupted your sweet sleep so early in the morning.

“I’ve got some good news.” It’s your boss, the one who makes all of the big calls. “Schedules are cancelled for the day, that’s the official news. The city’s snowed in, so you can stay home today.”

You can’t believe Johnny was right about that. You’ve never had a day where you heard of their schedules being cancelled because of the weather like this, but you accept it, thank him for calling to let you know, and when you end the call, you lie there in the silent darkness of the bedroom.

At some point in the night, the music has ended. It must be very early, with the sky still so dark outside the window, but even in the half-light you can still see snowflakes drifting by.

Johnny’s fingers twitch on your belly, his pinky finger stroking along the top edge of your panties. You turn your head to look at him.

His eyes are still closed, but you can tell that he’s awake.

“Who was that?” He asks after a few moments, his voice soft and rough at the same time, drenched with sleep.

“You were right. The day’s schedules are cancelled.” You lay your hand over his. You’re half-tempted to move it just because it’s driving you to distraction, but at the same time you don’t want him to stop touching you like this.

“Mm, perfect.” Johnny opens one eye to look at you. “Now we can just sleep for the rest of the morning. Stay in bed.”

You want that. There’s nothing you want more right now than to stay here in bed with Johnny. “I should probably go let the other boys know. Tell them to turn off their alarms. To stay inside today where it’s warm.”

The tip of his pinky makes it just beneath the edge of your panties. Your nipples are hard, and you’re glad you’re wearing the sweatshirt so he can’t tell how just this tiny touch is affecting you so greatly. But it’s something in the way he’s looking at you right then--his bottom lip caught beneath his teeth, his eyes on your parted lips--that tells you that somehow he already knows how aroused you are.

You almost close your thighs, squeeze your legs together to do something about that burning need rising between your legs. But your one leg is still draped over Johnny’s, your calf against his. And when you move it just a little, the friction of your skin against his has Johnny breathing more deeply.

There’s a buzz running under your skin, zipping through your veins, and in the moment you forget everything else but that feeling and Johnny making you feel it.

Your hand covers his on your belly, and you apply just the lightest amount of pressure. His fingers slide so eagerly into your panties.

His breath sounds unsteady, and you’re sure yours does too.

“I’m gonna be so honest right now,” he tells you, his voice barely more than a breath. “I’m so hard, baby. The second you made that little whimper, shit, I felt lightheaded.” You don’t know what whimper he’s talking about, but you don’t care. His fingertips are edging lower and lower inside your panties and in a second he’ll be touching your clit and that’s all you want right now. You almost buck up into his touch.

You grip his wrist before he can, and Johnny freezes. “We don’t have any music,” you tell him.

Johnny smiles. “Guess you’ll just have to try to keep quiet then, won’t you?”

“Guess you should kiss me again then.” You reply, and Johnny’s only too pleased to satisfy that request.

The moment his mouth is on yours, he’s dipping his fingers lower, his middle finger touching your clit, and he gasps lightly as he feels the heat of your wetness coating his fingers. You can’t believe you’re doing this with Johnny.

He rolls closer, and as he does you can feel his erection against your thigh.

“You want me to finger you, baby?” His words flow over your lips, swallowed right down by your eagerness. You nod. “I want to hear you say it.”

A new wave of heat bursts in your belly at Johnny’s dominant tone. “I want your fingers, Johnny.”

He smiles as he kisses you now, pressing his long middle finger inside you in a way that would have you loudly gasping except for his mouth sealed over yours. Johnny curls his finger just right, his palm smoothly moving against your clit as he thrusts his finger inside you, soon adding a second then a third.

You’re openly panting and moaning into his mouth as he fucks you on his fingers. His other arm is wrapped around your back, bracing you against him as he works you quickly toward an orgasm. His erection is against your thigh, and occasionally you notice him grinding against you, thrusting forward to help with what he needs. But most of his attention is on you, making you feel good.

It’s still some time before dawn when Johnny brings you tumbling over the edge of your climax. Your thighs close around his arm, his fingers still pumping inside you, and you bite his tongue as you cum, and that just makes him moan.

You’re still shaking from the ecstasy when you break the kiss to drop your head to his shoulder, your breath coming out in shaky puffs.

Johnny kisses your forehead, his damp fingers pull out, slipping out of your panties to rest against your thigh, the other hand strokes your lower back, a relaxing weight keeping you resting against him. You try to move a hand down, wanting to touch him too, but Johnny makes a noise.

“You don’t have to.” His damp fingers close around your wrist. “I’m fine.”

“You’re still hard.” You raise your knee a little so your thigh brushes against where his dick is still full in his underwear.

His eyes flutter for a moment, his hips grinding forward.

You lift a hand to touch his hair, tugging lightly to bring his lips to yours as you tilt your head back. “Let me make you feel good, too, Johnny.”

Johnny slides his body over yours smoothly, his body bracketed perfectly by your thighs. You tangle your arms behind his neck, kissing him like your life depends on it as he grinds against you through your panties.

You can feel him very clearly now. Every inch of him. You wish he was inside you, stretching you wide open, filling you deeply with his length. You kiss him and trace all of those desires against his tongue. Your heart pounds with that desire, breath racing and your nails rake down his back as he picks a good rhythm. You’re going to cum again, you already know it.

“Fuck,” Johnny mumbles into the kiss. “I wish I could cum inside you.”

“Then fuck me.” You gasp back. “Where are condoms?”

His lips slide from yours, over your jaw to your throat. He groans. “In the drawer over there.” But you can tell from the tightness in his voice, from the broken staccato beat of his movements that he’s close, that he probably won’t be able to hold back much longer. Why wait? Why risk putting a pause on this if it might just ruin his orgasm?

You shake your head, tangle your fingers in his hair, guide his lips back to yours. Next time. He can fuck you next time. Right now you just want him to cum; you want him to get you to cum a second time.

A hoarse groan builds in the back of his throat, and Johnny thrusts one last time before he freezes, his cock twitching in his underwear, right against you. You can feel the wet heat of him spreading through the material right against you, and you buck your hips up, chasing your own orgasm even if it means grinding against Johnny’s sensitive cock as he comes down from his high.

Johnny’s mouth feels so soft against yours when you kiss this time as your orgasm crashes through you. Lazy kisses, bodies intertwined. Johnny doesn’t move from between your thighs, just holding himself above you, kissing you slowly and softly.

Morning is breaking outside, though with the heavy winter weather, there’s not too much of a difference visually.

Eventually Johnny moves away, his hand slides up under your sweatshirt, just touching your bare skin as you both tuck yourself against each other and catch your breath.

It’s still early. You could roll over to fall back asleep, but even as you consider that, you know it’s too late, you’re already wide awake. Johnny knows it too, so after a handful of moments, he kisses you and then sits up.

“I’m going to shower.” He stands out of bed, tugging uncomfortably at his underwear. You can see the damp spot spread over the front of them, and you hide your smile in his pillow. You made him cum in his pants. It’s cute. You close your eyes and replay that moment, Johnny pressed against your like that, the way he’d moved, the way he’d sounded as he came.

When you open your eyes again, he’s gone. The bathroom door is closed, only a thin sliver of light beneath it and the gentle patter of the shower turning on indicating that Johnny’s behind it.

The dorm is still thick with the sound of sleep, so you’re quiet as you redress and creep out of Johnny’s room. You stand to look out the window in the living room. The world outside is covered in thick snow that continues to fall. Your breath fogs the glass.

Taeyong’s the first one up, stumbling out of his room in just shorts and a tshirt, shivering as he walks into the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of water, and when he turns around, he spots you and nearly drops the glass. He swears viciously before realizing it’s you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He covers his mouth. “Did you stay here last night?”

You nod. “The weather got worse and I was really tired, so Johnny insisted that I stay.” Taeyong makes a face that you can’t quite decipher before he hides it. “Your schedules are cancelled for the day, by the way. We’re snowed in.”

Taeyong nods. “In that case, I’m going back to bed.” He disappears back into his bedroom, and once more the dorm falls silent.

A shiver works its way down your spine as you yawn. You’re so tired, but you know you can’t go back to sleep, so you go make yourself a strong cup of coffee, watch the snow and think. You think about how what you did with Johnny was a mistake--it was great and you loved it and you can’t truly bring yourself to regret it, but it was a mistake nonetheless because if it gets out, if this becomes serious or ends badly, then it will reflect horribly on your career, and all of your dreams will be flushed away.

You want Johnny. You love the way he makes you feel. But you know that you shouldn’t indulge.

And for the next several minutes you sway back and forth on that dangerous line of thought--you want him, but you shouldn’t want him. Maybe you should just leave today, go home, and the next time you see him pretend that the events of last night and this morning never happened. Maybe he’ll forget you’re the Cinderella he spent months searching for.; maybe that was all just a fun game for him anyway, and he’ll lose interest now that he’s found you.

By the time the coffee finishes brewing, you hear the sound of movement in Johnny’s room as he leaves the shower. You pour yourself a mug, another one for him, and then you knock carefully (to not spill the coffees) on his door before opening it.

Johnny’s sitting in bed again, but when he sees you, he sits up and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Feel better?” you ask him, standing there beside his bed as you offer him one of the coffees. He nods and sips at his coffee, and you look over at the window again, at the steadily falling snow. "I guess I still need to figure out some way to get home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Johnny murmurs into his coffee. “You can stay here. Stay right here.” He lifts his face out of his mug just long enough to grab your hand and pull you down to sit on his bed. He doesn’t let go of your hand.

You say his name in a warning tone, but it just makes him smile.

“What?” His thumb rubs gently over your knuckles. “Cinderella kept running away from the Prince because she was scared of her stepmother and stepsisters, right? Well, the Prince found her and they lived happily ever after. I like you. I liked you before I knew you were my Cinderella from Halloween. Finding that out last night or this morning or whatever, that’s just a bonus. I like you in case what we did earlier didn’t make that obvious, and if you like me too, well we can find a way to be together even if our wicked company tries their best to keep it from happening.”

You feel very warm all of a sudden, possibly its the coffee or the bulky sweater Johnny had let you borrow, or it could very well be that he’s confessing to you. Confessing in such a cheesy manner, too. He has feelings for you. For you, not for the Cinderella fantasy version of you.

You push the sleeves of the sweater up your arms, trying to cool down some.

“Johnny.” You know that nothing good can come of what he’s suggesting.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he says softly. “Don’t say it like it’s a no. Don’t say it like you want me but you can’t. We already started down this path, so don’t turn your back on this, please. Say my name like you agree with me, like you like me too.”

“Johnny.” This time you put your longing for him behind those two syllables. You try your best to make it sound like a yes.

You want Johnny. You want this to work. And if he believes in it, then you want to too. But you won’t let this affect your dream. You’ll have Johnny and you’ll have your dream job too. You can figure it out as you go.

Johnny grins. “Yeah, that sounds much better.” He takes a drink of his coffee again, watching you over the lip of the mug, then says, “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

“Coffee is hardly breakfast, Johnny. Please tell me that you know that.” You groan, prying the coffee mug out of his hands.

He shrugs and grins, watching as you sit his mug and your own on his bedside table. And then he reaches for you, pulling you into his lap so you’re face-to-face. Johnny kisses you slowly, deeply, and when he pulls away, he murmurs, “All I know for now is that you’re my mysterious Cinderella, you’re wearing my sweater, I can still smell you in my sheets, and we have no plans for the rest of the day. If you’d like, I’d love to make you cum again.”

Oh God, you think to yourself, what have you gotten yourself into?

a/n: so months and months ago back when I was accepting requests based off a prompt list, someone sent me a prompt for Johnny to use both “No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.” and “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.” and thus this was born

I wouldn’t have taken so long to write this, and I’m really really sorry to the original requester (especially since I know I’ve messaged them and let them know it would take a while, but damn I don’t think either of us thought it would take this long, and I checked and they haven’t been active on their blog in a while, so now I feel bad) but I got distracted with writing the next part of the poly series (which was Adore You) and then forgot about this for a brief time, and then once I remembered I was deep into working on the poly finale, so I had to focus on it. But now I’ve finished that! And I’ve finished this too, so if the original requester is still around and sees this then I’m sorry it took so long please forgive me! I would tag them, but I’m not entirely sure if they wanted to be tagged in this or not!

#johnny smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #johnny suh smut #johnny fanfic #damn remember way back in the day when I could write and post something that was under 10k?#when was the last time I did that and didn't call it just a drabble?

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antiloreolympus · 2 years

Text

5 Anti LO Asks

1. 191 spoilers: so Hebe basically grew into Hera 2.0, Persephone basically said nothing was her fault when a lot of it really was her fault, she thinks her green hands are a turn off (can she stop being hypersexual for one minute please), and she lives in a treehouse now??

What the fuck happened in that four month hiatus, seriously

2. Reading episode 191 was somehow rage-inducing and depressing at the same time.

We're still on the "Persephone did nothing wrong and shouldn't be punished"-train. Everyone, including the narrative, gives Zeus crap for doing what every sensible authority figure in his stead would have done. We're somehow supposed to pity Persephone for....being sent to a safe environment with supportive friends to clean up the mess she made and refused to fess up about until literally being forced too.

Like jfc Peresphone isn't even doing any work??? The first time we see her she's creepily hitting on an inanimate object and hiding away from her responsibilities??? The bare fucking minimum and she's too lazy and self-absorbed to do even that???

Oh, and we get zero news about how Demeter's feeling or doing meanwhile, because who gives a shit about her, she was just there in the first place to be an obstacle for hxp to overcome.

3. How come nobody's eyebrows are ever normal in LO. Why are they always pitch black blobs

4. The new chapter is just confusing . Hebe is a Hera clone. Like I was literally so confused why Zeus and Hera would on decent terms. I get she’s older to show time has passed, so why right now is Zeus thinking Persephone? What’s special about today? She still hasn’t done any of her tasks, so why after so long would we even question it?

Flash back to the trial: I’m sorta confused what the importance was to the freak out. Are they freaking out because they can’t go to the mortal realm, losing Demeter to a less qualified goddess to handle her job, or as Poseidon puts it “you lost the closest thing to the queen of the underworld” (are we forgetting that hades planned on proposing to Minthe but never got the chance)

Persephone: “hey guys I’ve been banished for a long ass time, but at least my ears as pierced am I right??” I also hate how she goes “some of it’s my fault but not all of it.” She’s had 0 growth I feel, she killed a bunch of people and she’s more focused on the whole “well if my mom was just cool about my fertility powers/if I was just zeus’ kid he would have let me off the hook”

Is that nymph Daphne? Persephone was able to save her tree form but not Minthe? Or is Persephone just choosing not to save Minthe as a whole “I don’t need to help out the people who’ve hurt me” idk

Artemis, Thanatos, Eris: aren’t they not allowed to see Persephone or have any contact with her or they’d be heavily punished.

Why is Helios there? He’s been pretty indifferent about Persephone.

Prediction: the next couple chapters is gonna be a failed meeting with Zeus and then a flash back catching everyone up to speed, but it’s gonna take so long at first to get there.

-----FP Spoilers/Mention-----

5. Okay so I read the new chapters bc why not and tbh I was pleasantly surprised with how the characters were drawn in the premiere. Idk but they felt like they had more time put into them and their hands especially were really nice and looked like they came from a reference. That all changed in the next chapters tho ofc.:/

Fast Past Spoiler:

The time skip in itself is not bad, but oh my god it feels like none of the characters have actually changed except Artemis’ relationship with Zeus. Like they’re all the same characters just grown up a bit, but only characters like hebe actually show that. And of course everyone is so up in arms over Persephones punishment. I can get why Hades would be mad and why Poseidon would be upset because his brother won’t talk to him anymore, but everyone else is wayyy too upset over some random girl. Like everyone but Artemis hates Zeus rn and EVERYONE loves Persephone. And god the whole Minthe and Daphne thing? The point of their stories were that they were the victims of a tragic circumstance. In the case of Minthe, because of her own doing, and Daphne, because of Apollo. It’s like there are no consequences for anyone who Persephone likes. Daphne and Minthe should’ve stayed as plants. It would be the end of their stories and would equate to actual loss for Persephone. I see Rachel hasn’t gotten any better at writing. So much wasted potential to turn the story into a chance for growth in both the characters and writing. The only thing I liked out of the four new episodes was the touching moment between Zeus and Artemis. Why has their relationship grown and changed but no one else’s? This story feels more about Zeus and his actions and consequences and growth than Persephones tbh.

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lo critical #lore olympus critical

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sylenth-l · 3 years

Note

I must say I don't know much about Andal, but I've become interested thanks to you ;~; Do you have any specific lore recs to read about him?

Hmmm, I think his section on Ishtar Collective covers almost everything and there's not that much lore about him anyway. But since I've noticed it misses a couple of things, I thought I'll make my own list too.

SO, here's every valuable mention of Andal I can remember (in some sort of an order, but not really):

The Man They Call Cayde - the greatest piece of candal fanfiction by Cayde himself, bless. If you can read only one thing from this list, READ THIS. Almost half of this book is about Andal, honestly, and the way Cayde writes about him is so... ugh. Just read it, if you haven't already 🥺

Micah's letter to Tallulah, warning her about Andal. I wonder what he did to give her such a strong impression of a troublemaker that she advised Hunter Vanguard herself to go and pick him up 😂

Andal telling a fascinating story about how he barfed into the ocean met Tallulah. I find it absolutely endearing how literally everyone tell us what a cool & competent Hunter he was when speaking about him, and then we have this gem written by the man himself, where he embarrasses himself by dying from Tallulah's friendly slap

Tallu remembers talking to him by the fire - very touching one and that line about his cloak.........

Actually the whole Vanguard Dare set has quotes about him: casque, grips (this quote lives in my head rent free… "He was ours first", omg…), vest and boots. Not that much about Andal in the last one, but it mentions him and I think Suzume's personality really shows here, lol. Oh by the way, WHY DIDN'T YOU BOTHER TO GIVE HER A NAME BACK THEN BUNGIE HUH??? Also I think it's a crime this set is now a cosmetic ornament only, so there's no way to see those quotes in the game anymore (unless you have an old set stored in your vault)

Fall of Osiris comic, featuring Andal's famous "I trust him with my life" line about Cayde (in hindsight he probably shouldn't have tbh)

Consensus meeting about firing Osiris - Andal's casual comment about "two birds, one man" and nobody even batting an eye on that makes me think he didn't give grandpas a minute's rest with all sorts of bird jokes, no wonder they both abandoned their Vanguard positions adfgjskjd

Teben being not happy about "Brask's Exo replacement". This one is actually kinda interesting, since it implies Andal leaned more on Drifter & Co side about Darkness, thinking of it more as of a tool that can be used for good, while Cayde was dead against it and cut off all ties with dredgens undoubtedly once he became the Vanguard

Eris' letter to Mara covering the whole Taniks' Nightmare situation

She also speaks about it in the respective Nightmare Hunt

"I knew Andal Brask. Did I ever tell you? The Vanguard's Hunter before Cayde. He taught me much, but my time in the darkness of the Hellmouth taught me so much more." - Eris again, you can get this one randomly by sticking around her on the Moon

"Did you ever meet Andal? He taught me a lot about being a Hunter. He kept telling people that Cayde was Rasputin though." - Ana speaking about him (random line you could get by hanging out around her on Mars)

Warmind comic - he barely shows up there a shame since I like how this one is drawn, but check out his flawless fashion sense (wait, is that BARE ARMS, whoa, hold on sir, that's way too revealing, have some shame!!)

Cayde speaking about him and the famous "you're Rasputin" joke (this is also the origin of this quote from D2's reclaiming the Light quest)

Cayde mentions him again in his message for Taniks

Presumably the last note Andal sent to Cayde and it's fucking heartbreaking knowing what happened next. And to think Cayde kept this little note all these years, g o d...

Aaand I think that's it?.. Feel free to add anything I may have missed!

EDIT: Added one more quote from Eris

#ask #anonymous #destiny #andal brask #always happy when people say they started to like him <3

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hunni-pen · 4 years

Text

All the Time in the World| DEKU

Genre: Smut, nsfw, 18+ content

Content warning: Thigh highs, choking, size kink, hand kink, ruined orgasm, Dom!Deku, Praise(??)

Notes: I wanted to try writing a playful top Deku. Sorry I’m experimenting. This took WAY longer than it should’ve and I still don’t like it tbh.

Thank you to everyone who’s waited so patiently for it❤️

Any person, place, actions, or events that have been written similar to other works are purely coincidental, and not related to any fics.

Asks open

Word Count: 2.2k

Taglist: @fandomgirllover @ilikemaruchan @carrrloss @call-me-koi @galaxygoddess1412 (hope these tags work)

— Part 1 —

Izuku ever the gentleman escorted you out of his agency, and you hoped that the rip he’d put in your tights couldn’t be seen from your skirt. You also hoped that you didn’t look too riled up. You felt too riled up.

Heat still pooling between your wet thighs, and cheeks warm with embarrassment. Midway through Izuku practically fucking you into his desk, his PR agent had knocked on his office door, stating he was needed in the meeting room.

He’d pulled out of you with a disappointed sigh. Smiling down at your fucked out face. “Guess we’ll have to wait till we get home huh?”

You’d tried to pull yourself together enough while he was finishing up his meeting. Then he was walking you down to catch your taxi back to your job.

Before he closed your door to the taxi, he kissed the top of your head, whispering, “be ready for me when I get there. I expect to see some thigh highs.”

So of course you were looking forward to getting off work, eyes glancing at the clock every so often as if that would make time speed up. Although it didn’t really matter anyways. Izuku had a small habit of working overtime so you knew you’d be home before him, and still have some time to kick back before he did.

You took your time showering and picking out a set of underwear, before covering them in some oversized sweater from the floor of your closet, and taking some time to watch your show. One hour turned to two, and before you knew it, you heard his key click into the door. You gasped, surprised that he was actually home earlier than normal.

You didn’t even think to turn the TV off as you sprang up and dashed to the room. Tearing the draws open and finding the first pair of sheer socks you saw, successfully pulling one on and starting to put in the other, when his heavy footsteps began to start down the hallways.

You threw off your sweater and jumped to sit on your knees on the bed. Smiling innocently as possible. Izuku stopped at the door to the room, shirt already balled up in his hands.

“Someone was in a rush,” he commented looking over your frazzled state.

“No, I was waiting for you,” you lied through your teeth.

“Were you?” You nodded, watching Izuku approach you with slow steady steps, his green eyes roaming your figure. “Cause I don’t think you were.”

He pushed you to lay on your back, pulling your feet out from underneath you, and looking up your legs. He tucked his fingers under the fabric of the thigh high you’d failed to pull up all the way. He slid it up your leg, slowly, maintaining his eye contact.

“I think you didn’t listen to me. Which is such a shame, cause I was gonna treat you so well tonight.”

You pouted, “no, I was listening, I really was. I just thought you were gonna be late tonight.”

“It seems we both had a misunderstanding then, cause I thought my good little girl was gonna be waiting for me all wet and ready.” You squirmed under his gaze, feeling embarrassed that you’d been so obviously caught.

Your eyes shifted to look around the room as you tried to come up with something, to prove your innocence. “I was gonna be but-“

“But you weren’t,” Izuku signed dramatically, causing you to look at him once more. “I guess, you don’t wanna have any fun then, and that’s okay. I’ll just go get started on dinner.”

You racked your brain to try and find any reasoning for him to be teasing you so rudely, finally coming to the conclusion that he was playing a mean game to mess with you, as he’d been prone to doing that before.

He pulled away and you scrambled up to grab his arm, frowning up at him. “I don’t like this game Izuku.”

You didn’t sit through the rest of your work day with an uncomfortable ache between your legs only to be denied what you’ve been waiting for cause he decided to tease you. You had no patience for games and jokes today. You were gonna be fucked and that was that.

“I’m not playing,” he laughed. You pulled him back to hover over you, looking at him with your best puppy eyes. His smile disappeared, “fine, but you gotta do everything I say.”

You nodded enthusiastically as he climbed to straddle your waist. Leaning in for a kiss, you expected Izuku's lips to press to yours. Instead you were met with a finger to your lips.

“Open up, I’m not being nice.”

You hesitated, Izuku wasn’t normally so mean, yet you couldn’t help but like it. Dropping your jaw and letting him slide his pointer finger in your mouth, gliding over your tongue.

You loved his hands. His fingers were wide and calloused, they filled you up quick, and he was so good with them. Equally, he loved the way your lips, your mouth and your pussy, wrapped around them. Clenching and soaking them. He could have you shaking and crying on them all night.

He wanted to push you to the point where you were moaning and crying from the pleasure. His plan tonight wasn’t to make you feel good. He wanted you to writhe underneath him and beg. He wanted to make you scream in frustration.

He sucked in a breath as you opened your mouth further to allow him to add a second finger. His knee pressed to your dampening core, the pressure causing a broken whine to slip through your open lips.

“Getting so wet and I’ve barely even touched you. Too bad. I said we’re taking our time now. There’s no one to interrupt me.”

You gagged around his fingers as he thrust them deeper down your throat. Your own hand wrapping around his wrist, to pull his fingers out of your mouth to direct them down in between your legs.

“At least fuck me please, just a little bit,” you whined brow furrowing.

“Begging? So soon? Lemme me hear more.” He nudged your underwater to the side, not daring to move another inch.

With hot cheeks and averted eyes, you asked again. Your voice lowered to an embarrassed whine. “Fuck me please, with your fingers please.”

He raised his eyebrows, amused at your use of please twice in one sentence. “You must really want me huh?” His index finger rubbed your clit.

You bit your lip and nodded, “yes. I lo- I love how you make me feel.”

His fingertips teased your entrance as a sickly sweet smile grew on his face. “Only I can make you feel good, right?”

You nodded again, your desperate expression made his heart squeeze; he almost couldn’t keep up his teasing act, you just looked so cute, begging for his fingers. He plunged his two fingers into your wet cunt, curling them up against your g-spot, in a way that had your legs shaking. A long drawn out moan in the sound of his name fell from your lips.

“Awww say my name again,” he cooed.

“Izuku.”

His fingers pumped in and out of you while his thumb rubbed your clit. He leaned forward, lips pressing to yours in a soft lingering kiss. He added a third finger, your jaw dropping from the stretch, nails digging into his shoulder. The hot pain from your nails scratching his skin pulled a grunt from Izuku's throat.

As your orgasm built up, your whimpers turned to moans, legs shaking from the pleasure Izuku's fingers were giving you. His fingers hit all the right places inside you with practiced precision. He didn’t stop or slow down, even as you were telling him that you were cumming.

For a second you were there. The ultimate high was within your grasp. You were spilling over the edge, slowly, bit by bit. Hot waves of arousal pushing you further over. All at once, you felt everything, then nothing.

You sucked a breath in, the lack of friction yanked you forcefully out of your daze. Izuku had pulled away completely, hands up as you reeled back down from your ruined orgasm.

“Fuck, why did you do that?” you whined.

He smiled, that stupid innocent smile. Something sinister gleaming in his eyes. “I changed my mind. I didn't want you to cum.”

Your breath shook and your eyes watered, “that’s- that’s not nice.”

“Do you know what else isn’t nice? When I tell you to be ready for me, and you're not.” He scolded and wiped your tears away. “Do you wanna cum pretty girl?”

You nodded, “please Izuku?”

“Come sit on my cock, and earn it.”

He sat back, allowing you to move on his lap, hovering over him, he brought you closer to him. Taking his thick length into his fist, and pumping it a few times, small gasps falling from his lips. He guided the tip to your entrance, teasing your wet folds.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes,” you sighed, closing your eyes in anticipation.

Your bottom lip tucked under your teeth as you expectantly awaited the painful stretch of Izuku's cock filling you up. But it never came, at least not when you were expecting it too. Right as you opened your mouth to complain, he thrust up into you, causing your grip in him to tighten and a pained squeak to fall from your lips.

Izuku threw his head back, biting back his own moans. “Fuck you’re so tight baby.” He peeked an eye open and looked down to where you took him in. “I’m not even all the way yet.”

“You’re just so big.” Your nails dug into his skin, and you tried to push yourself further down on him.

He rolled his hips up to meet yours, the rest of his length sliding into you. Your jaw dropped and you shut your eyes tight, legs shaking as you felt yourself come up on the cusp of another orgasm. He just hit you in all the right places. Even the steering pain of the head of his cock kissing your cervix was easy to ignore when you felt so good.

You began to bounce slightly, craving that friction that you so desperately needed to get off. Pulling off him entirely before sinking back on with a breath of relief. You wanted more of him. All of him. This is what you’ve been waiting for all day. For him to fuck you. You didn’t mind the pain or the stretch, you loved it.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my dick. You take me so well baby.” His hands slid down your waist, where he’d been guiding your hips down, to grip your thighs, fingers curling into the lace of the thigh highs you wore. He pulled the band and let them snap back into place, before rubbing your skin.

“So pretty,” he murmured.

Your frantic bouncing slowed to a grind, as you tried to give your clit the attention it deserved. Izuku tucked his head into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin.

“C’mon don’t slow down now, you were doing so well. Keep going,” he begged, his own hips rutting up into yours. His demanding facade from earlier completely depleted. Now, he just wanted you. “Or do you want me to fuck you?”

You hummed, nodding, your legs were aching, even with Izukus help, it was hard for you to keep a steady pace on top of him. You let him pull out of you, and didn’t complain or whine about how empty you felt without him filling you up. Instead letting him lay you back on the bed, lining his tip up with your entrance.

He pushed himself back into you, not taking any time to let you grow accustomed to his size before he began fucking into you. His hands on either side of your head, his green eyes bore down into yours.

“You’re so pretty underneath me. You never fail to take my breath away,” he panted.

“You make me feel so good,” you moaned, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. He let you pull him down and take his lips in a short kiss.

“Yeah? Well you make me feel good too,” he laughed lightly. His thrusts became sloppy and his fingers gripped the sheets, as he neared his own orgasm. “Wanna cum with me?”

“Yeah,” you gasped, reaching a hand down to circle your clit. “Let’s cum together Izuku.”

He bit his lip and nodded, eyes screwed shut to blink back tears. He was always so sensitive. With one last thrust he was spilling into you. Hot white spurts of cum coating your inner walls. The frantic twitching of his cock sending you over the edge.

Your legs wrapped around his waist in a poor attempt to pull him impossibly closer as your walls spasmed and gushed around him. His name falling from your lips in short breaths.

“Good job,” he whispered, pulling out of you.

Izuku much preferred fucking you at home than at work. Sure, there was always the thrill that came with taking you on his desk in his office. But nothing beat this. Alone with you, uninterrupted, with all the time in the world.

———

Thank god I can get this out of my drafts. I hope I never have to see this fic again.

This is my longest fic

#writing #reader insert #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha smut #my hero academia #deku smut #mha deku #deku x reader #deku x you #midoriya izuku smut #izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #bnha x reader #bnha izuku #bnha izuku midoriya #boku no hero fanfic

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hurricanes-art · 3 years

Note

i am interested in your hades au, would you mind giving some details about it? 👁 it looks really interesting

[This AU is from these drawings!]

*cracks knuckles* Ok! I actually got enough sleep last night so I'm finally feeling up to explaining this au lmao

Also I hope that by “some details” you meant “way way too many” because I am nothing if not long winded. Also @hades-hellsite asked for context too, here you go

The central premise is that, after he dies, Achilles manages to make an arrangement with Hades that allows both him and Patroclus to stay in Elysium together. He's not employed to work at the house and he never becomes Zagreus's combat trainer.

Hades makes a few attempts to find Zagreus a different teacher among the shades of great warriors, but being skilled does not make someone able to teach. And being able to teach one way doesn't mean someone will be good for every student. When Zagreus doesn't learn well with the few mentors Hades tries, which he barely gives a chance to breathe anyway, he's quick to decide that he must have no martial ability and declares Zagreus a failure in that as he has about so many things.

This has two major effects on Zagreus before his escape attempts begin. One, without any chance to actually grow into aptitude in combat, he's left without anything substantial to put his energy into and, more importantly, he's left without anything he feels good at and that gives value to his efforts. Two is that, in Achilles' absence, very few people in the house give him any care and support untwisted by the politics of the house and the judgment of his father. There is Orpheus, kind to him before Hades locks him away for refusing to sing, Hypnos, willing to put the house to sleep so he can find the truth though jumbled up in his own problems, and Nyx.

Nyx is the only one to aid Zagreus when he decides to try to escape. She contacts Olympus and weaves careful lies to win their support and blesses his departure. She's also the only one who believes that Zagreus has the slightest chance of escaping. Already in canon, most everyone tells him there no way he'll make it out, but here, it's so much worse. He doesn't know how to fight, his initial attempts are pitiful and his progress negligible, and near everyone lashes out at him to get back in line and stop making things worse.

He doesn't even have the Infernal Arms. Achilles is the one who brings them to him in canon; here Zagreus takes a simple bronze sword from one of the house's many displays of weapons from wars long past. He thanks the Fates that the Styx restores it the same way it does his body when he dies because he nicks and dulls the edges every time.

Despite all the disadvantages, Zagreus throws himself into escaping with unshakable determination, bone deep stubbornness. He picks up his sword and will figure out how to use it himself. Experience will be his teacher. He dies over and over and he watches his enemies and learns how they move and how he must react, mimicking their attacks for his own use and adjusting and adjusting after each failure. And contrary to Hades' adamant belief, Zagreus is very intelligent and learns brilliantly when allowed to and he grows stronger and stronger.

There's no teacher more savage than experience in something like this, though. The pursuit is agonizing and the cost is enormous and adjusting to this ceaseless violence feels impossible.

Much of my interest in this idea is how the added strain on his circumstances and relationships affects Zagreus and his mental state. At his best, Zag looks a lot like he does in canon, with his laurels unfurled and vibrant, and his feet glowing hot, but he rarely feels his best here. His laurel leaves curl in dry and crisp, muted like the leaves of autumn. Flakes of ash and soot build up over his legs and encase more and more as he suffers. So deep is his feeling of failure and being trapped that it affects him physically.

Not always, though. His flames respond to his emotions, burn brighter in his passion. Enthusiasm, love, fervor, bliss, anger set him glowing.

After a brutally drawn out span of time, Zagreus meets Achilles and Patroclus in Elysium and tbh, the rest of my interest is really in how the altered circumstances change the evolution of their relationships with each other. The pair of warriors were never separated for an extended time and Achilles is less downtrodden and resigned and Patroclus is less bitter and abrasive when Zagreus stumbles upon them.

They don't fight him, which Zagreus counts among his greatest blessings, although Achilles still seems to have an interest. It makes him twitchy and he jumps when Achilles finally lifts his spear and swings it around in his third time in their little glade only to bump the flat of the blade against elbow and tell him to keep it in more towards his body. Zagreus blinks rapidly at him before adjusting his arm.

Achilles helps him here and there, tips and tricks and valuable advice, but he never gives anything near the thorough instruction he did in canon. On one hand, he doesn't need to. Zagreus is a self made fighter and it leaves him with weaknesses but it is also a powerful thing. He is unpredictable and incredibly adaptable and he only continues to improve.

On the other hand, there's no room for it. Achilles is gentle with his guidance, but Zagreus is rubbed raw by all the fighting he's done and all that still depends on it. He doesn't want to always focus on the weapon in his hands. Patroclus notices and curbs Achilles' input when it exceeds its bounds. He sits aside and observers carefully when they spar. Zagreus doesn't need another's direction which is fine by him, who's lost all desire for combat. He gives his aid through his assortment of trinkets that carry Zagreus further to the surface.

Zagreus barely knows what to do with himself in the face of their care. He's so unaccustomed to such generous and genuine support, interest devoid of expectation or blame. As familiarity between the three of them grows, their interactions grow warmer, more tender and comfortable. Their care lays on a foundation, not a hinge, and Zagreus grapples with understanding that he really can lean on it. It all leaves him so uncertain yet so desperate because he wants more than anything to have joy and conversation and company with others where he doesn't shoulder heavy guilt from unspoken accusations over his escaping the house and to have a place he feels he belongs without being an intrusion.

He does at first believe he's intruding, though. Intruding on their time together in the peace of Elysium. It takes them time to convince him that they value his presence immeasurably. The opportunity to stay together in the Underworld has been invaluable for Achilles and Patroclus, but the peace of Elysium is a deceptive thing. It wears away and prickles at them, pressing down in odd warping ways. Patroclus is beyond pleased to have the war behind him and that it can never force him to fight again, and despite Achilles retaining an interest in competition and combat, he does feel the same way. Having a cause though, something to believe in and worth devoting their efforts towards... They didn't realize how deeply they missed it until Zagreus. It is revitalizing. They thrive in his genuine, boundless kindness and long to support him.

The drawings of Orpheus arguing with Hades and Zagreus fighting with Nyx is from one of my plot point ideas. Later down the line, together, Hades, Persephone, and Nyx agree to forbid Zagreus from seeing Achilles and Patroclus at Nyx's behest. Similarly to how she talks about Dusa in canon, she sees mortal shades as beneath his station and that it's highly unbecoming for the prince to be consorting with them. Zagreus fights against the idea ferociously and is only smothered by the threat that, if he seeks them out anyway, Hades will void Achilles' agreement and have Patroclus moved to the proper plane of the Underworld.

It crushes Zagreus. He loves them and cares about them so much and being torn apart from them is a wound that cuts so deep. But even more than that, what breaks him open most, is the fact that it came from someone he cared for and trusted most. Nyx was the one person in the House he could depend on most and this betrayal at her hand is devastating. And for such a worthless reason as propriety and godly vanity. It's not her place to force those upon him. It hurts Zagreus to the core.

Orpheus is the only one willing to stick up for him in this, deeply empathetic to the grief of being separated from loved ones and well acquainted with the fact that such punishments will only damage, never correct. After all, his stint of punishment in Erebus didn't revive his desire to sing, it was Zagreus's dedication and vibrancy that did that. One of the many invaluable gifts Zagreus gave him, including reuniting him with Eurydice, making him happier than he'd been since her death. Orpheus can't keep biting his tongue when all these gods refuse to see any of this.

It all comes to a head dramatically and painfully and I've thought of a few variations on how it would play out. I'll leave it for now though, I might draw it or write it later >:3c Also this got really long lol. Hopefully the idea is at least somewhat interesting!

And here, have the lines from these two drawings because I like the way they look

#hades game #hades supergiant #zagreus #achilles #patroclus #nyx #orpheus #god of ash au #which is a tag i might not use again lol #my art #my writing #i guess #this is so long please forgive me #i had one thought of achilles not working at the house and it drove me to madness #apparently

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drwcn · 3 years

Text

midnight sun [snippet 14], following [10]

*aka the reveal scene y'all are probably waiting for, sorry it doesn't live up to expectation, lol im v tired*

↦

Lan Wangji used to have a dream, a repeating one. Nothing much happened in it, except he was back in the cave at the Burial Mount. It was how he remembered it before the Siege of Nevernight and the subsequent raid. Wei Ying was always there, perched on that slab of rock she claimed as bed. Lan Wangji knew she wasn't real. There was nothing in this world that could make him forget the terror of her wrenching herself from his grip and falling into the molten chasm. Yet there she was, sitting cross-legs on that rock, smiling at him, always smiling, as though she hadn't died violently and alone.

L-Lan Zhan - Lan Z-Zhan - Lan Zh-an -

He had never been able to discern what it was that she had tried to tell him...

Now, he finally knew, knew that he'd been fooled - no - that he'd been a fool.

Such a fool.

~~~

Everything happened slowly and all at once.

Yan'er!

Wei Wuxian shoved aside the arm Lan Wangji had raised to shield her from the blast of Jiang Yan's spiritual rage colliding with his xiongzhang's Shuoyue.

Lan Wangji watched, transfixed and horrified, as Wei Wuxian swept across the temple, a torrent of black cloth and dark unbound hair like demonic smoke coalescing around the girl curled on the ground.

The temple darkened. Shadows seemed to be drawn in to Wei Wuxian by a force unseen, and the epicenter of her being emanated a quiet eerie darkness that choked out any light. She gathered Jiang Yan from the ground and cradled the girl in her arms. Her eyes were red when she lifted them to cast a murderous glare upon Lan Xichen.

"Wei-gu'niang, I -" The master of Gusu Lan stumbled back half a step, horrified at what he'd inadvertently done and at the silent threat in those blood red eyes. "Is she - I did not mean to -"

Jiang Yan coughed abruptly, breaking the tension and jolting her mother's attention back to her. Rapidly, the demonic red faded from Wei Wuxian's eyes.

"Yan'er, Yueqian, you're all right; you're alright, just breathe."

Jiang Yan twisted and arched, pulling in several stridorous breath as she fought to quell the erratic torrents of qi flooding her meridians. Her gaze fleeted about, left and right, disoriented by the impact of her earlier rebound, until she focused in on the face in front of her, peering down in distress.

"You're alright, yatou. You're safe." (yatou = 丫头, girlie, lassie, can be an endearment term for girls)

For a minute Jiang Yan did nothing but stare up unblinkingly. She opened her mouth, teeth still rust-stained from the blood she'd spat up, but no sound came out. Then, all at once, she seemed to let go. Colour returned to her cheeks, overtaking her from collar to crown and drawing a shimmer to her eyes that Wei Wuxian realized, belatedly, was the refraction of candlelight through tears.

"阿娘。" A-niang. "哎- 哎，好孩子，我的好孩子，我是你阿娘。这么些年，是我对不起你。是阿娘的错，都是阿娘的错。" Y-yes, good child, my good child, I am your mother. All these years, I've let you down. It's my fault. All my fault. "阿娘，曕儿好想你。" A-niang, Yan'er missed you so much.

It need not be said that Jiang Yan could not conceivably have missed Wei Wuxian as she was, having never known her or known of her. Nevertheless, no one in that temple questioned the sentiment behind those earnest, innocent words. It was most natural, the longing of a child for the mother who must've have existed to bring her into this world but did not have the fortune to remain in it long enough for them to meet.

"A-niang, I feel...strange."

Wei Wuxian smiled. "I know, the feeling will pass. You'll be alright. Close your eyes, Yan'er, you need to rest."

Jiang Yan hesitated. "You won't leave? I still have so many things I wish to tell you. Promise, you won't leave?"

"I won't leave," promised Wei Wuxian, passing a hand gently across Jiang Yan's temple and leaving a glowing red talisman in its wake, which sunk softly into her daughter's skin. "Sleep."

Trusting, Jiang Yan smiled and grew still. Her breathing evened, and her head lulled to the side.

Across the temple, still reeling from the revelation, Lan Wangji struggled to his feet.

"Wei Ying -"

But he was not the only one. A sharp swoosh was all the warning there was before Sandu's blade edge swung beneath his chin.

"Jiang Cheng!"

"Jiang-zongzhu!"

"Jiang-xiong! " No one noticed when Nie Huaisang had awakened amidst the commotion.

Lan Wangji turned slowly to Jiang Wanyin and faced the man who had raised his daughter in his stead. In doing so, he had kept her identity hidden from the world.

Lan Wangji didn't know whether to thank him or hate him.

For thirteen years he had mistakenly believed that it was Jiang Wanyin who'd betrayed Wei Wuxian the most. He couldn't understand how anyone could do to the mother of their child what Jiang Wanyin did to Wei Ying at Nevernight. Especially yesterday, when Wen Ning had revealed the truth about his golden core, Lan Wangji had nearly been driven to murder by his fury. To think Wei Ying had given Jiang Wanyin everything she had, had hollowed herself out in more ways than one, and yet he had turned his back on her and treated her to the point of his sword.

Lan Wangji wanted him dead, had wanted him dead for so long. But he held back, employing his churlish silence and his spite as his only weapons of offense, not only because slaying a sect master would be an open declaration of war between their clans but because he could not deprive Wei Ying's only child of the one last parent she had left in this world. So many times he thought about telling her the truth, about how Jiang Wanyin had been the one to murder her mother, but what would that achieve but cause her more misery? She was happy as she was, living in her blessed ignorance, and because she could not hate Jiang Wanyin, Lan Wangji would hate him on her behalf.

But now, after the truth had been revealed and exposed to him every misconception and false notion he had stored like festering pus in his heart, he realized that the hatred that he felt must surely have been mutual.

"You don't get to speak to her, you faithless bastard." Jiang Wanyin cursed through grounded teeth. He glanced at Lan Xichen. "Zewu-jun, is this the true face of Gusu Lan? Hypocrites and liars who either uses and abandons or steadfastly defends a wretched creature beyond redemption at the expense of one of your own. Even if you do not recognize her as so, Yan'er is your niece!! She shares your blood!! How could you hurt her?!"

Lan Xichen had gone bloodless. Sweat dripped from his chin. His hands shook. "Jiang-zongzu, I - I did not know - I swear I did not mean - "

"Did not know?" Jiang Cheng laughed. "You think this matter can settled, can excused, if you simply exclaim ignorance?! What your perfect, honourable brother did to my sister, the absolute wretched state he had left her in after he violated her virtue - "

"A-CHENG!" Wei Wuxian yelled, head bowed and unable to look at any of them. "It's all the past; what's done is done. Stop, just stop -"

"I will NOT stop!" Jiang Cheng snapped back. "I've waited fourteen years for this moment. You may not care about yourself, Wei Wuxian, but you're of Yunmeng Jiang." He turned back to the younger of the Lan brothers, and continued through barely concealed malevolence, "What Lan Wangji owes you, owes Yan'er, I will make him pay."

[tbh]

#cql #the untamed #wangxian #midnight sun #lanyan #fem!wwx #cursed au #okay it's cursed #very very crused #corie fics #cql ficlet #apologies for any spelling or grammar erros #we don't proofread in this house #we die like lwj is about to be trottled by jc

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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

Photo

Slightly paraphrased, but Peeta talking about that moment he developed his crush on Katniss is just too sweet 😊

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 22-24 are below the cut (sprinkled in some psychology thoughts again).

heart

Honestly, I think the people in Panem would perceive the whole everlark storyline the same way we perceive and react to our ships on tv (desperately wanting to reach through the screen, shoving the characters forcefully together, screaming “And now, kiss!”); especially the Capitolites who barely recognize the tributes (or people in the districts, in general) as people. The people in the districts would definitely view the whole thing more under a “reality tv” kind of lens, questioning how much of the relationship is real or not (we know that Finnick certainly thought that the entire thing was just a spiel, until Peeta hit that forcefield). The time spent in the cave must have been pretty convincing, though.

mind

I think that Katniss is still torn here - On the one hand, she kind of wants to believe that Peeta is actually into her (remember the happiness she felt when Peeta told her how his crush on her began, and it all added up and seemed so real), but on the other hand she’s terrified of that possibility because A) lingering trauma from her mom’s depression in response the Mr. Everdeen’s death, B) Katniss never even considered falling in love, so that’s a sudden unexpected thing to deal with, and C) maybe it’s just for the sake of the Games; and wouldn’t that hurt, getting your hopes up only to learn it was only for show? (How about we ask Peeta about that?)

soul

Yeah, that quote about Peeta only eating stale bread also struck me as quite sad. It just further adds to his understanding how there should be more to life than just survival, though. (One day, I’ll make that post about Peeta, Katniss, and Maslow’s pyramid of needs, I swear! I’ve already gathered some research material)

Chapter 22

My mother’s hand strokes my cheek and I don’t push it away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don’t trust her. - Ugh, I can’t... Katniss misses her mom, misses being cared for😢 I’m so glad we’re going to see her patch up her relationship with her mom in CF... On a different note, Katniss craving that gentle touch just perfectly illustrates why she’s so drawn to Peeta, who is generally such a gentle soul (I mean, he’s literally the person stroking her cheek here 😊)

He [Peeta] doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness. - As I was saying... 😉

“I’ll go hunting soon,” I say. “Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.” - I love them so much😊🥰 And then Peeta makes sure she’s well-fed and hydrated, he rubs her cold feet and tucks her into the sleeping back... and she let’s him! 💗

“He [Thresh] let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?” asks Peeta in disbelief. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,” I say. “And don’t try. Obviously I’m too dim to get it,” he says. - Oof. This exchange here is interesting in many ways: 1) it highlights their different experiences, tied to their different socioeconomic backgrounds, basically, and 2) that Katniss is very much aware of this difference, but we also see hints of her own ignorance here - because Peeta didn’t have to starve in his childhood, she thinks that he can’t possibly understand this level of hardship; but there are other ways in which one can suffer/lack fundamental needs, which brings us to 3) Peeta’s response about being “obviously too dim to get it”; I think this is a clue to his mom being also verbally abusive towards him: she called him “stupid creature” when he burnt those loaves of bread for Katniss and when he’s losing it in the attic of the Justice Building in D11 in CF he is mad that Katniss and Haymitch keep things from him “like [he’s] too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them”, which - to me - sounds like he’s tired of being treated that way (i.e. the way his mother treats him)

“I want to go home, Peeta,” I say plaintively, like a a small child. - God, this is a teenager in a murder-arena who feels like wanting to go home is a childish notion instead of a totally legitimate wish for anyone in that situation, regardless of age 😢

It’s not that Peeta’s soft exactly, and he’s proved he’s not a coward. But there are things you don’t question too much, I guess, when your home always smells like baking bread, whereas Gale questions everything. What would Peeta think of the irreverent banter that passes between us as we break the law each day? Would it shock him? The things we say about Panem? Gale’s tirades against the Capitol? - Geez, Katniss, give Peeta some credit here! A) It’s not like Peeta can walk around District 12 talking publicly about the injustices happening there - she and Peeta hadn’t even talked with each other before the reaping, whereas Gale is her best friend who rants to her while they are outside the confines of D12 and B) Peeta is literally the one who introduced the whole “not a piece in their Games”-idea to her; why would he be clutching his pearls over Katniss and Gale’s irreverent banter?! Just because Peeta didn’t live on the brink of starvation (she again brings up how his house smells like bread and - at this point - still thinks that the family running the bakery actually gets to eat what they produce just like that), doesn’t mean he doesn’t see how shitty life in D12 is - he can still want better conditions for those who are worse off than him!

“I did do the right thing,” I say. “No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?” - Well, we’ll see this song and dance again in CF...

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. [...] And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.” - I wish CF Katniss would remember this moment when she is questioning her motives about saving Peeta’s life in the arena - You. Care. For. This. Boy! You. Value. Him. For. Who. He. Is!!!

This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. [...] This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. - Whoo! Is it hot in here or is it just me? 😉

I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe. - He makes her feel safe in a murder-arena!!! 😭 This is the kind of stuff that makes everlark just a top tier romance, tbh

Peeta telling Katniss about his crush starting on their first day of school 🥰😭 - and her reaction to it... For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy - yes, because you have a crush on him, too! - and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff [...] So, if those details are true... could it all be true? - YESSSSSSSS!!!

“You have a... remarkable memory, “ I say haltingly. - as a severely socially awkward person... I felt that lame response in my bones 😅

“You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in. - God, this would be such an amazing moment if it didn’t get tainted by that immediate sponsor gift, which just serves to muddle Katniss’s feelings with her sense of survival, further complicating her relationship with Peeta... *sigh*

Chapter 23

“What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...” “I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. “Oh, that’s right. That’s what I was thinking,” he says. - Peeta is the master of being a cheeky little shit and adorable flirt at the same time

“So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?” I ask him. “No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says. - I appreciate that while Peeta has had a crush on Katniss forever, he clearly didn’t spend the entire time pining after her, oblivious to the rest of the world - he has a life outside of Katniss Everdeen, but ultimately, it all lead back to her

A disturbing thought hits me. “But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!” “Ah, that’ll be nice,” says Peeta, tightening his arms around me. “You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales.” “I told you, he hates me!” I say, but I can’t help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal. - Laugh all you want, this is going to end up being your future anyway 😄

He [Haymitch]’s at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to bready to go into action at any moment. Kind of like me when I was alone in the arena. I wonder how he’s holding up, with the drinking, the attention, and the stress of tring to keep us alive. - Katniss is already worrying about her “new pal”, I see ;)

Maybe he [Haymitch] wasn’t always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. - Honestly, that sounds absolutely awful...

Poor, Katniss, when she learns of Thresh’s death :( - But no one will understand my sorrow at Thresh’s murder. - It’s horrible how compassion and basic human decency gets construed as ‘weakness’ in the world of Hunger Games (esp. the Capitol)

Then I escape into sleep, comforted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me. - Honestly, I think a word analysis of THG-series could be interesting; how often does Katniss mention “warmth”, “steady/steadiness” “safe/safety/security” in connection with “Peeta”?

“We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery,” he says. “Bet that’s expensive,” I say. “Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it’s gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale,” says Peeta [...] Huh. I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life. And it’s true, Peeta has always had enough to eat. But there’s something kind of depressing about living your life on stale bread - Katniss is starting to realize that the lives of the merchants isn’t a cushy as she thought; also, in a way, we see a “prettier” version of how Panem treats the districts overall -> feeding the districts just enough that they can do their work (plus/minus a couple of people who’ll die of starvation, but at a small, for Capitolites insignificant margin), but not so much that they are in good shape to rebel; here, the merchants of D12 have just enough that they can live a “decent” life (they know it could be worse -> the Seam), but they don’t have enough to live a free, comfortable, self-determined life either. This also just further drives a wedge between the inhabitants of D12 (the merchants won’t want to rebel because they don’t want to get ‘demoted’ in their lifestyle, starving like the people from the Seam, and the Seam folk feel resentful towards the merchant people, while also not having the resources to rebel, due to their awful socioeconomic conditions)

What would be my life like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I’m not really sure who I am, what my identity is. - It’s so sad who Katniss has been so consumed with ensuring that her most base needs are fulfilled that she barely has had the time to really figure out who she is and what she wants from life (If we’re talking Maslow’s pyramid of needs, Katniss would primarily be stuck on the lowest tier 😢)

At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. - Honestly, Katniss counting on being good friends with Peeta after the Games is the highest honor she can bestow on him at that moment (she’s so into him, lol); of course, knowing that their relationship is going to be a bit rocky once they’ve come back makes this thought a little sad... but we also know they’ll make up (and out ;) in the future

Peeta licking his plate and blowing a kiss out to Effie is such an adorable goofball-moment 😊

I cover his mouth with my hand, but I’m laughing. “Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave.” He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. - This moment would be so cute (also, Peeta’s so confident in Katniss’s skills to protect him, which is adorable - toxic masculinity who?) but... Ugh, he’s just so giddy here, it kind of breaks my heart for when he learns later that (at least some) of Katniss’s reactions were just for show

“If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds,” I say. “Your call, Just tell me what you need me to do,” Peeta says. - Love how Peeta’s always ready to follow Katniss’s lead :)

Ideally, I’d dump Peeta now with some simple root-gathering chore and go hunt [...] “Katniss,” he says. “We need to split up. I know I’m chasing away the game.” [...] “Show me some plants to gather and that way we’ll both be useful.” - Teamwork! If it weren’t for Katniss worrying for Peeta’s safety, they’d be on the same page here

“What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I haunted?” I say, trying to make it sound like very important work. “What if you show me what’s edible around here and go get us some meat?” he says, mimicking my tone. - I really like how Peeta’s challenges Katniss here; he doesn’t just go along with everything she says, while still being quite reasonable

I feel like I’m eleven, again, tethered not to the safety of the fence but to Peeta, allowing myself twenty, maybe thirty yards of hunting space. [...] I allow myself to drift farther away, and soon have two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. - I don’t know, but Katniss feeling tethered to Peeta makes me think of Mary Ainsworth’s attachment theory, according to which children with a secure attachment to their primary caregiver use their “attachment figure as a safe base to explore the environment”... Of course, Ainsworth’s Strange Situation was conducted with young children, but attachment styles are supposed to influence the relationships we form with people in our later lives as well (including romantic relationships)... I dunno, just a random association that popped into my brain 😅

Chapter 24

Peeta’s a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood. - Heh, Peeta sure knows how to handle fire, huh, Katniss (or should I say: Girl on Fire?) 😏

I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for him when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so greateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought. - Aww, this is so sweet (and domestic)!

It’s funny. I feel almost as if it’s the first day of the Games again. That I’m in the same position. [...] But no, there’s the boy waiting beside me. I feel his arms wrap around me. - They are a team! Katniss doesn’t have to face the horrors of the Games alone anymore! It keeps boiling down to this.

#thgagain #thg #hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg meta #my sketches and drawings #everlark

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