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just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace · 4 months ago

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Inspiration (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you struggle coming up with new designs for the Nine, and the Lord of Gifts helps you overcome your creative block

Warnings: smut (p in v, cockwarming, tease and denial, dom!Annatar vibes), reader hesitates at first because she’s surprised by Annatar’s advances but she’s on board with it, manipulation cause she doesn’t know Annatar is Sauron, small discrepancies with the canon timeline for the sake of the fic’s (very little) plot, unrealistic(?) method of solving artistic blocks (the irony is that I wrote this fic to get out of writer’s block with another one and it worked😆)

Mature content below the cut - minors DNI!!!

“How fares your progress?”

Lord Annatar’s voice nearly startles you when you see him approach. You thought you were alone in the forge room, with nothing but your thoughts and the unfinished Ring designs currently staring in defiance up at you from a piece of paper.

“Well enough,” you say, reflexively. Then sigh, letting your pencil fall on the table. “Well, in fact... it is slow,” you confess, glancing at Annatar as he walks towards you. You wince internally when he looks over your shoulder at your sketches. “My skills are no match for Lord Celebrimbor’s, and even he has had difficulty finding the right designs.”

“And yet he chose you alone to carry on with the efforts in his absence,” he argues, even when faced with what you deem to be your far-less-than-satisfactory attempts. Looking up, you find him offering you a sympathetic smile. “You sell yourself short, my friend. It is a real pity.”

You avert your gaze, attempting yet surely failing to conceal your fluster. His compliments, however small, always have a sincerity about them that touches you deeply.

Lord Celebrimbor had, quite literally, worked himself into oblivion after one too many failed attempts at crafting the Nine, and more hours without rest than even an Elf could endure. He had refused to retire to his chamber for some much needed sleep until he had fainted upon his own worktable, and even then, he had refused for anyone but you to even attempt to create new designs for future tries in his absence. He had been odd, of late, mistrusting and, dare you say, even irresponsible at times. But you were his oldest and most trusted apprentice, and that seemed to earn you some of the good will he still had left.

Not that you feel he has made you much of a favour, leaving you to labour alone on such an intricate task. You are not exactly freshly rested yourself, and you have seen so many Ring designs in the past few weeks, you seem to have been drained of the ability to come up with any fresh ones.

There was only one idea you had that might help you, and you had risen from your seat and sat back down two or three times already, changing your mind about whether you should seek out Lord Annatar or not. Whether it would be appropriate. Now that he has come to you, however...

“I was wondering...” Your eyes wonder about the room, hesitating to meet his. “If it isn’t too bold to ask...”

“Be at ease,” Annatar intercedes with that same gentle smile, and it isn’t so difficult to look at him anymore. “My very purpose here is to aid you in your endeavours. You need not hesitate to ask for my help.”

All of a sudden, you feel quite silly for ever doubting you could speak with him openly. He has been most willing to share his knowledge as he worked closely with you these past few weeks. It’s just that now, he has taken on Celebrimbor’s duties as Lord of Eregion as well, and you hate to feel as though you are keeping him from more important matters simply because you cannot seem to handle your own given task.

“It’s just that I feel so... utterly uninspired,” you confess, casting a dismayed look to the sketch-filled papers in front of you. “The proportions, the aesthetics... I cannot seem to get all the elements right at the same time and the more I try, the farther I stray from the desired result.” You raise your gaze to Annatar’s. “Might you spare a moment to assist me, if only with one design? I’m sure it’ll be inspiration enough for me to finish the others whilst you tend to the affairs of the city.”

“Of course,” he says, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. With the other, he picks up the piece of paper, and you are now grateful that his attention is solely on the drawings, for the sudden contact has made you rather flustered. “You see,” Annatar says, contemplating the sketches, “sometimes the artist’s mind, though creative as ever, tends to... restrict itself, in the most frustrating way. So great is the desire for perfection in the end result, that it stifles the natural flow of the precious ideas without which no result may be reached at all.”

You resonate with the wise words, but you are not sure you understand the advice they carry.

“Are you suggesting I... draw whatever design I like first and worry about the practical aspects of it later?”

“I am suggesting,” he says, putting the paper down, “that you do not worry at all.” You frown. With that, you do not resonate at all. But your main focus now is that Annatar steps behind you, this time placing his hands on both your shoulders. Your heartbeat quickens as he speaks, at leisure, “That you do not even... think about the task at hand—not entirely—and that you simply... give in to your most natural instincts.”

“I am... not sure I understand,” you say quietly.

After a moment’s silence, Annatar asks, “May I show you?”

You knit your brow, unsure. You had expected him to help you by simply completing one of the sketches, or even just discussing some new ideas. These cryptic words, along with the physical contact, is all quite peculiar.

But you do trust him. You more than trust him, if you’re being honest. That is why the sudden closeness feels rather nice, though you do not wish to make a fool of yourself by showing it.

In the end, you give a small nod.

“Very well,” he says, and you hear the pleased smile in his voice. “For that, you need only resume your work, and trust me.”

Failing at producing quality designs right before his eyes doesn’t sound exactly ideal, but you put your faith in his methods, whatever they are. You pick up the pencil once more, bring a fresh sheet of paper before you, and begin your fumbling attempts anew.

You note—how could you not?—that Annatar has yet to remove his hands from your shoulders. Because of that, you sit more upright than you usually do, but you doubt changing your posture is his sole purpose. Slowly, he begins to move, thumbs brushing your skin, then softly pressing down onto it in a languid rhythm.

You are grateful that he cannot see the wide-eyed surprise on your face as it dawns on you that the Lord of Gifts himself is giving you, a common Elf, a massage. His thumbs come to knead the flesh at the base of your neck on either side of your spine, and the slight pressure feels divine, especially when you have spent so many hours hunched over the table. You bite down an audible sigh, willing your hand not to waver while you work. You still do not feel particularly inspired, but if he meant to bring you relief from the constant stress of the past few weeks, his efforts are most certainly appreciated.

You mean to offer him a polite and rather bashful thank you, when one of his hands begins to stray. His fingers leave a tingling trail across your skin as he draws them up your neck, softly cupping your jaw from behind. You are quite stunned by the gesture, and find yourself retracing the same pencil line a few unnecessary times before you move on. His fingertips graze their slow way up your jaw, straying briefly through your hair before they reach your earlobe. It’s almost as though he is drawing his own intricate pattern along your skin, and your hand slows in its movements as your heart races in your chest.

Surely, he would not— oh, but if only he did—

And he does. His fingers take their sweet time tracing the shell of your ear, and finally, they reach the tip, where they catch the pointed bit of flesh between them, tugging ever so gently.

Your breath catches in your throat, shivers rain down your spine, and your hand freezes on the page. Because your kind do not touch one another’s ears in such a manner unless they are, or wish to be, courting. The simple reason is that, as you are now vividly reminded, those pointed tips are quite sensitive to touch, erogenous in nature for most Elves—including yourself.

You do not question Annatar’s wisdom or the grace with which he has assimilated into your ways of life, but perhaps he is somehow not aware of this particular intimacy-related aspect? Should you let him know, as courteously as possible? But then how would you explain that you had felt his intent, and despite having been given all the time in the world before his fingers had reached that most tender spot, you had done nothing at all to prevent such a caress?

Before you can decide, his hand returns to your shoulder, any movement halted.

“Is something the matter?” he questions, concerned.

You cannot tell him. You simply cannot. In truth, you miss the touch already.

“No—” you clear your throat, willing the waver out of your voice. “No, my lord.”

“Then, why have you stopped?”

He sounds genuinely curious, as though he could not fathom what had affected you so. You give no answer, other than to put pencil to paper once more. The moment you resume your work, his hands resume theirs—massaging, caressing. He does not touch your ears again, though his fingers do come dangerously close to doing so as he runs them through your hair, and you berate yourself for hoping each time that they would find those sensitive peaks again, catch them in their delicious hold.

So distracted you are by the prospect of it and the images you strive to continue creating, you do not even sense Annatar leaning down. Not until you catch a glimpse of long, blonde hair at the periphery of your vision, and then there is the soft graze of his lips over your neck. You draw in a sharp breath as your skin is set alight, and the pencil slips from your fingers.

“My lord!” you gasp, chest heaving as you whip around to fix him with a most alarmed look. There is no misinterpreting the intent behind that particular gesture, and he knows it very well.

But he doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest as he stands to his full height, seeming to you more majestic in appearance than ever as you look up at him.

“Keep drawing,” he instructs calmly. “Unless you wish for me to stop.”

Your brow furrows even further, your confusion growing, and then—

It all clicks in your mind.

The rules he has demonstrated thus far are simple enough: you stop, he stops. It’s both a condition and a reassurance. You do not have to outright refuse him. You need only refuse to continue drawing, and he shall leave you be, and all will return to the way it was before. But if you do pick up the pencil, it would be tantamount to confessing to the desire you have held secret within your heart for weeks, and that would change everything. Not to mention it would be unprofessional. Most inappropriate.

Your skin still sings where he has touched it.

Be it courage or folly, you turn away from him, pick up the pencil, and draw.

You think you can feel a smile on his lips as they return to your neck. This time, you close your eyes, finally able to savour the sensation—only for a moment, though, for the blissful touch depends on your ability to keep forming shapes on the paper, so you open your eyes and do your best to conjure some semblance of a coherent design as Annatar peppers your skin with unrushed, tender kisses. His lips are even softer than you had imagined, and you tilt your head lightly to offer every inch of skin within his reach. Now that the door has been opened, there is no more use pretending like you do not crave his affections.

Before long, his fingers ghost along the neckline of your dress, then his hand ventures below, to the swell of your breast. You do not make the slightest move to stop him. In fact, you pray to the Valar for the ability to keep your hand drawing at least somewhat relevant lines on the page. For you keep reminding yourself that if you stopped, so would he, and you cannot fathom the loss of his delicate grasp of your soft flesh. He easily finds a stiff nipple, peaking through the fabric of your dress, and tugs it between his thumb and forefinger. You shudder, holding back a whimper—but to your embarrassment, the beginning of one does escape you when his hands and lips suddenly leave you.

“Do you need a respite?” he says with a tinge of admonishment. You’ve abandoned your efforts on the paper without even realizing. You shake your head, not trusting your voice, wishing for nothing more than to feel his touch again, and resume scribbling lines on paper.

“Very well,” he says, and his hands return to you.

It’s increasingly challenging to keep drawing through each graze of lips, each brush of your ears, each tease of your nipples through your dress. It’s already so much, so fast, and yet it only makes you long for so much more. You’ve given up biting back the soft moans in your throat, lacking the power of concentration to spare for that purpose as well. And you certainly cannot help how your thighs press together in a futile attempt to ease the ache growing between your legs.

The sketch of one Ring is already finished, but you don’t even stop to consider whether it’s satisfactory before you begin another. His method shall be most efficient in increasing the quantity of your work, if not the quality. Would he do this with any other smith, you wonder, simply as a means of encouragement? Is this what he has been doing to Lord Celebrimbor on the late nights when the other smiths have gone to sleep, and they alone remain to carry on working in the forge? The thought stings, but the only question on which you can truly focus at the moment is how much further will he go with you, right here and now? As if in answer, his hand begins a most tantalizing descent, over your stomach, down to your navel, and you desperately repeat to yourself to do not stop drawing, no matter what, as you part your legs to receive him without shame.

When he cups you intimately through the fabric of your dress, you truly do not know by what force you are able to keep the pencil on the page, let alone keep wielding it. But thanks to the muscle memory acquired over many years of training, you do, even as you whimper and rock your hips into Annatar’s hand, even as he massages the throbbing bud which had longed for his touch on the shamefully many nights you had stroked it yourself while thinking of him. You wonder if he can feel how wet you have grown for him even through the fabric of your dress, wantonly hope that he does—

He stops. Even though you haven’t—you are so sure of it, you’ve been so careful. You only cease drawing when he lifts himself from you and you turn to him with a questioning, pleading look.

“Stand,” he instructs simply.

You nearly protest. But you remember yourself, that you are meant to be putting your trust in him, and do as you are told. You are hyperaware of the wetness between your legs as you stand, leaning against the table for support. The haze of desire has left you pleasantly weak.

Annatar steps towards you, facing you fully for the first time since he has begun to touch you intimately, and it is both relieving and electrifying to see that desire darkens his gaze as well as he takes in your breathless state. Taking gentle hold of your chin, he lifts it so your eyes meet his, and not a moment later his lips are upon yours, soft and tender. It’s barely more than a short peck, just enough for you to melt into the kiss only for him to pull away before you can fully savour it. This teasing of his is so maddening, like a game to which the only rule you know is that you either submit to his rules, or forfeit altogether, and you can only hope he will not leave you wanting in the end.

Stepping back, be pushes his robes to the side, and proceeds to unfasten his trousers with relaxed, steady movements under your longing gaze.

He pauses whilst he is still decent, and patiently asks, “Will you welcome my flesh?”

Welcome it? You could think of little else for weeks.

“Yes, my lord,” you murmur.

Only then does he bear himself to your gaze. He is a masterpiece, hard and swollen and glistening at the tip. The state of his cock denotes much more impatience than he demonstrates as he gracefully seats himself in your chair. Your cunt clenches around a gnawing emptiness at the mere sight.

“Return to your seat, then,” he invites with a cheeky little smile.

You find it strange that he has not pulled the chair away from the table, sitting in it as though he means to work there himself, rather than receive you in his lap. But you obey either way, a daze of elation coming over you. It’s such a foreign, illicit feeling, pulling up the skirts of your dress with trembling fingers as you step between the chair and table to face Annatar, ready to straddle him.

Before you can lift one knee onto the chair, he stops it with a gentle but decisive hand.

“I do not believe you have finished the designs,” he says. “Have you?”

Frowning, you give a slow shake of your head. His tone nearly makes you feel like a chastised student. Disoriented, you are nothing but pliant as his hands guide you into turning around so that you are now facing the table. Surely, he cannot mean for you to keep drawing once he is inside you? You could barely manage to control your pencil strokes whilst you sat relatively unmoving with his hands upon you, you could not even manage to find the paper if you begin to ride him.

You are about to ride him. Lord Annatar. The thought banishes any such concerns from your mind, leaving nothing but blinding lust in its wake. He adjusts you so that your legs are bracketing his thighs, pulls your garments out of the way to expose your soaked folds, and guides you down so that the tip of his cock is only just breaching your entrance.

That initial stretch alone pulls a small whimper from you, and you plant your hands on the arms of the chair for support, trying not to make any rash downward movement that might hurt you both. But his hands are strong and so safe on your hips, and you surrender to their guidance as he eases your joining. He slowly teases the tip of his cock in and out of your cunt, each time reaching a little deeper than before, until you cannot take it any longer and and sink onto his length completely.

The stretch pulls a mewl from your throat as you finally settle in his lap. You strive to catch your breath, looking down as if to reassure yourself that this is, indeed, real. Your dress covers the place where he has disappeared inside you, but you are so heavenly filled by the length and girth of him, you fear the sight alone might cost you your sanity. You whine, your eyes falling shut as Annatar pulls you to his chest, one hand pressing down on your belly whilst the other gently wraps around your neck, and he whispers in your ear, “How does this feel?”

Your voice is no more than a trembling whisper, “Wonderful.”

You cannot bear to wait a moment more. You try to circle your hips in his lap, moaning as his cock begins to prod at all the most delightful spots within you—

He plants his hands on your hips, trapping them in a firm hold.

“Be still,” he demands. It’s no easy feat, but you settle down, awaiting his direction. “Good,” he purrs in your ear. “Good. Now...” he pauses, letting you quiver with anticipation, “you shall remain still until you have finished the designs.”

Your eyes shoot open, wide and confused as you twist your head to look at him. There is no trace of jest in his eyes. Even the pleasure he feels in the warm embrace of your cunt is a faint glimmer beneath the surface of his determination, subdued with utter discipline. You realize he truly means his words, and you despair.

“But...” You cannot even make a coherent plea. So dreadful is the thought of enduring the pleasure of having him inside you without pursuing it, you are reduced to little more than a pitiful whine, “My lord—”

“Shh,” he coos, tenderly kissing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, aiming to soothe you as if he is not the very source of your torment. “I know,” he murmurs. “I feel it too. This all-consuming ache to reach fulfillment, this longing for release... the wonders of your mind crave the very same. Open the door to set them free, as you have opened yourself to allow me in. You managed well enough before .”

“Yes, but you were not...” You grimace, clenching around him without meaning to in your anguish. “It’s so deep—”

“And you are so warm. So tight,” he breathes out, hoarse with want. “Yet I shall wait, patiently, for as long as I must. For your sake.”

His tone leaves no room for argument, which only worsens the ache between your legs. But you know by now—either play by his rules, or stop the game altogether.

You sigh, defeated, and nod. “All right.”

Annatar presses a light kiss to your temple, a gesture so sweet and chaste, it makes your head spin as much as his praise. “Good girl,” he rasps out. “Go on, then.”

He offers some support as you will your limbs into cooperating and begin to lean forward, towards the table. The movement jostles his cock within you ever so slightly, and you groan as you withhold from moving your hips in search of any further friction. The position is somewhat awkward, with you leaning over the page from a slightly too high angle, but you plant your elbows on the table and get on with it, determined to see this through.

If someone had told you this was how you would finish the designs—seated in Lord Annatar’s lap, his cock buried snugly inside you, so perfectly stretching you out that it drives you to the brink of insanity—you would have called them a most impolite adjective, and slapped them for good measure. But even less probable, even more scandalous, is that it’s almost easier this way. After a few moments of adjustment, you no longer scratch out attempts before they’ve even begun to take shape, or overthink each stroke of the pencil to the point where you forget what your overall intention had been in the first place. The wonderfully torturous stretch of Annatar’s cock within you takes over that part of your mind, and what is left of it is high on the thrill of it all, the anticipation, the graze of Annatar’s fingers as they trace the occasional languid line along your spine, so tender and encouraging.

The practical knowledge is there, deeply rooted in your mind from years of practice, and the creativity is a gift that’s never truly left you. But it is only now that you finally understand how to let them intertwine without trying to control it, to give in to the flow of inspiration the same way you are giving in to him.

And he keeps his word, sitting silently until the last stroke of your pencil, his hips never once giving the lightest stir. Only when you sit back to show him the finished sketches does he lean forward slightly, taking the paper from your hand as you take deep breaths to cope with the new stimulation.

You plant your hands on his knees for support, nerves filling you now that the creative haze is over. You are left only with great unfulfilled lust, and the creeping doubt that, perhaps, your work is no more adequate than it was before. You’d found a way to push through so far, but you are not sure you could manage such a feat a second time if he asked it of you.

But you would try. You would try anything, if it allowed only the sliver of hope that your Lord Annatar would finally take you, unrestrained and to sweet completion, at the end of it.

To your great relief, when you turn your head, you find him studying the paper with a most appreciative smile.

“See what you can accomplish when you give yourself permission to do so?” he says, caressing your thigh as if in reward. “These are splendid.”

“Thank you, my lord,” you murmur. Before, you would not have dreamed to ask for more than such words of praise. Now, you bite your lip and entreat, “May I... May I, please...?”

“Seek your pleasure?” His voice is knowing, teasing, as if he is not furiously hard within you this very moment. Even after all this, a bout of shyness makes you avert your gaze briefly as you nod. “No,” he says seriously, and your eyes snap to him in alarm. “Not in this manner,” he goes on. “I wish to look upon your face.”

You have no doubt he meant to have your heart lurch in your chest. There is a wicked side to this messenger of the Valar, a shadow hidden within the light with which he surrounds himself. It only arouses you further.

Annatar helps you stand, and the emptiness left behind as he slips from within you would render you an inconsolable mess, if it weren’t for the promise of soon-to-be-found relief. You can’t help but eye his cock, drenched in your arousal and bobbing enticingly as he rises to his feet as well. He sets the precious sketches on the table with care, then turns to you with, at last, unveiled hunger, and reaching to the back of your thighs, hoists you in his arms in one swift move.

You wrap your legs around his waist, cling to his shoulders, and gasp as he carries you to the nearest wall, pressing your back against it. He holds you up effortlessly, even as one hand slips between you to touch your clit directly for the first time. The bundle of nerves has been helplessly throbbing for so long, it only takes a few firm strokes of Annatar’s fingers to have you fall apart with a brisk whimper, burying your face in his neck.

“How sensitive,” he muses, quite content as you pant through the sudden burst of pleasure. “You have craved my touch for a long time, have you not? I admit it has been quite distracting.”

There is the slightest hint of accusation in his voice, and you know he doesn’t just mean since he first touched you today. You must have failed, in all those weeks you worked together, to withhold the lustful thoughts he invoked in your mind from showing in your eyes. And so you had distracted a messenger of the Valar from his work on the crucial task to save all of Middle-Earth.

“Forgive me, my lord,” you whisper into his hair.

“Whatever for?” he asks as though you’ve said the silliest thing. Cupping your face, he tilts your head up so your gaze meets his. “Have you forgotten my name?” he speaks softly. “I am here to give.”

And give, he does. He slides inside you to the hilt, gladly welcomed back by your still-aching cunt, and this time, finally, finally, he withdraws and sinks back in once, then again, thrust after thrust until he builds to a quick rhythm that has you drowning in the pleasure after which you had thirsted for so terribly long. A string of ‘pleases’ leaves your throat, unbidden, even though you can hardly ask for more than the stretch of him inside of you, the relentless press and drag against places so sweet and deep within, the ceiling is filled with all the stars in the night sky as you throw your head back against the wall with abandon. Annatar leans in to kiss your neck, his tongue setting your skin even more ablaze. Your sole remaining ability is to moan and cling to him, receiving the pleasure you are being given.

Sauron is deeply satisfied as he takes his own. He has been aching as well, though the Maia is far more skilled at mastering the urges of his flesh. You had been quick to obey, eager to follow his commands, even without his influence nudging at your mind to suit his purpose, which in itself was as pleasurable as having your tight cunt wrapped around him as you worked. And now you are so pliant in his embrace, moaning in sweet submission as you reap the reward he most graciously offers—the very picture of the peaceful surrender he seeks to accomplish through the Rings. If only every being in Middle-Earth would accept the blessing of his authority as easily as you have, they would spare themselves so much wasteful bloodshed.

Perhaps he will keep you safe from it. Perhaps he will keep you to himself.

But you don’t know what is to come, nor would you care as your pleasure crests towards its peak, and you cry out with the force of your release, clenching around Annatar’s cock.

“Thank you,” you mindlessly gasp in between whimpers as he generously fucks you through it, “thank you, thank you, thank you—”

With one last, brutal thrust that pins your hips to the wall, Annatar groans, long and deep as he throbs and spills inside of you. It occurs to you that he has barely made a sound besides his laboured breathing throughout your coupling. Before he even slips out of you, spent, you wonder if you might have the privilege of hearing more in the future.

He is gracious enough, as your high subsides and you catch your breath, to carry you back to your chair. You doubt your legs would support you this very moment. He sets you down, fixes his robes, then stands before you as poised as ever. If it weren’t for the spark of mischief in his eyes, one would think you had done nothing but discuss Ring designs over a cup of tea.

“Thank you, my dear,” he says, retrieving the sketches from the table, “for your most valuable work.” He admires them for a moment, then gives you a knowing smile. “Do not hesitate to ask for my aid, should you need it again.”

With a polite nod, he leaves you sitting in your chair by the table, much as you were when he had found you. Only, at that time, his spend had not been pooling between your legs, and it was hard to imagine it ever would be.

You smile to yourself. What an unconventional emissary, and how lucky you are that the Valar have sent him to guide you in your endeavours. For indeed, you are sure you shall require his assistance again quite soon.

Sequel -> Further inspiration

#annatar x reader #sauron x reader #annatar smut #sauron smut #the rings of power

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 3 months ago

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For the sake of transparency, I want to give both a heads-up and offer an apology of sorts while I'm currently thinking through a few things.

[TL;DR: Three of the four people waiting on the requests they sent in for my follower event may or may not be waiting even longer if I decide to register as a seller for a local art show in late November.]

To start, I am so sorry that this whole thing is all hinged on a "maybe" as of right now. But I would hate to leave people unaware of what's going on when I feel like this is maybe something you all should or might be interested in knowing.

A few weeks ago, my ability to focus was becoming far, far worse than usual. (It's never been great, to be completely honest...) Around that time, I gave a warning to those waiting on request fics as a part of my 200 Follower Event that things may take a longer time to write until I could address the situation with my psychiatrist (and likely for a while after as well).

Part of the plan was to do an assessment for ADD/ADHD, and to keep the post as short as possible, the outcome of the assessment matched some gut feelings. I'm now taking medication that's making it easier to focus on the things I'm trying to do, again. I'm still "settling in", but making progress in the right direction at least and juggling things with a little more ease.

I'm no longer hard-stuck on focusing on one—and only one—thing at a time. Which brings me to the other part of why I'm making this post.

I mentioned once towards the beginning of October that I was working on selling some crochet pumpkins I've been making over the past year through Facebook. Happy to say I've gotten a lot of interest and made a few sales since then!

This past weekend, a friend of a friend told me about an event taking place at the end of the month where I could sell what I've made, and I'm seriously considering jumping on it. I could potentially make a lot of sales at this art show, which makes it an incredibly tempting opportunity.

So I want to apologize ahead of time to the people who are still waiting on their requested fics. One fic will be finished not too long from now with any luck, but there's a good chance that three of you might have to wait a lot longer than I ever anticipated, if I go through with this opportunity.

I am really, really sorry it's taking me so long as it is... These are my highest priority writing WIPs, and I promise that I still fully intend to do them. I'm just not sure how much time I'd be able to dedicate to them while completing any prep-work for the event if I sign up, and I don't wish to leave anyone completely in the dark.

In the event I have decided to sign up, I'll be sure to let you all know in the interest of maintaining transparency.

Thanks, and all the best - Frost 🩷

#frosts fandom freakouts #(semi personal edition)#event update

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dendrite-blues · 4 years ago

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For a relatively short exchange, this scene is jam packed with characterization for Loki.

It’s also our first reliable look into what Loki was like before Thor 1. Not as described by others, but first hand and from his own mouth. I think that deserves a closer look, to see what we can learn about Loki and how he thinks.

This scene is significant because it tells us what Loki’s personality is like when he’s not running for his life. It tells us who he was before his trauma and what his core beliefs are underneath those layers of humor and bravado.

Better yet, since he’s alone we can assume that every line in this scene is presumably true, or at least Loki believes it to be true since he has no audience but himself.

The dialogue centers mostly around the statement “You deserve to be alone, and you always will be.” I’m not going to focus too much on the “alone” motif since I already dedicated an entire meta post to it.

What I think is more interesting about this scene is actually the looping, and the stages Loki goes through in trying to deal with it. There’s a lot of really interesting character traits on display in that progression.

Loop 1: A Warm Bath and Glass of Wine

The first loop entails Sif lecturing Loki about cutting her hair, kicking him in the balls, and storming away. Loki kneels on the floor and he gives us this great line:

“A bad memory prison? How quaint. Some punishment. I remember exactly what I did after that. I went and had a nice, hot bath and a glass of wine, and I never thought about it again. Because it was just a bit of fun.”

So we can take this to be Loki’s default reaction to pain and criticism. When put into an unexpected conflict without any forethought or outside influence, this is what he says/does.

1) Downplay the damage/threat. How quaint. 2) Dispel/soothe the emotion. Nice hot bath. 3) Minimize the impact. Never thought about it again. 4) Deflect responsibility. Just a bit of fun.

Keep those in mind as we move forward, since we’ll be using them to make sense of what else Loki says in this scene.

Loops 2 and 3: Okay, Sif, Hang On

This bit is about Loki realizing just how bad his predicament is.

L: Okay. Okay, Sif. Hang on. S: No, you hear this. You deserve to be alone... And I always will be. L: Alright, I get it. Listen. You are a reconstruction of a past event created by the organization that controls all of time. So you need to trust me and you need to help me escape. Yeah? S: Pathetic. (she kicks him again) L: (winces and groans)

As we all would expect from him, Loki’s first impulse is to try and talk his way out of it. What he says to achieve that goal is pretty revealing though. Because he doesn’t try to ease Sif’s upset by apologizing or explaining or offering to magic her hair back.

Any of these would have been more likely to save his nads in the given circumstance, right? The present threat is Sif, and she’s mad about what Loki did to her hair. But Loki doesn’t really see that. Rather, he treats her as a means to an end.

“So you need to trust me and you need to help me escape. Yeah?”

To me, that choice reveals something of a blind spot Loki has to the feelings of others. Even if he doesn’t actively like hurting people, he does prioritize their problems below his, and quite shamelessly. And at least on his first impulse, he doesn’t seem to feel much remorse or empathy for them.

Usually in fanon we attribute this callousness to his trauma. He’s learned that no one can be trusted and no one cares, and so he doesn’t allow himself to care for others.

But between his Loop 1 sentiment of “It was just a bit of fun” for an event which caused real hurt to Sif, and his Loop 2/3 behavior of “you, stop being mad and help ME” I think it’s reasonable to say that selfishness/low empathy are traits Loki possessed pre-trauma.

Loop 4-????: Happens Off Screen

It’s unclear how many times Loki loops while the camera is following Mobius, but the implication is clear that it was been many, many repetitions. Somewhere in this his denial and deflection must break, because we come back to a much humbler, more pleading Loki.

The Final Loop: I Crave Attention

S: You conniving, craven... L: Sif. Sif. S: ...pathetic worm. L: Please, please, no more. Please, I beg you. I'm a horrible person. I get it. I really am. I cut off your hair because I thought it'd be funny. And it's not. Uh... I crave attention... because I'm... a narcissist. And I suppose it's... It's because I'm scared of being alone.

HOOO BOY, so this is quite a tough bit to analyze. There’s a lot of interpretations you could make, and a lot of topics to delve into. For the sake of focus, I’m going to ignore the narcissism question. That one really needs an entire post, and I want to focus on something else here.

That being, Loki’s way of processing conflict/punishment.

I’ve always found it strange how Loki takes such pride in being called a liar and cheat when he simultaneously has this chip on his shoulder about how nobody likes him.

Those two traits don’t seem to play well together, and I always scratched my head over how they coexist in his character. If he wants people to be nicer to him, maybe he should stop antagonizing them? Yeah?

Well, here we’re finally given a clear reason. Loki craves attention, he hates being alone. So how does he avoid it? Pranks and mischief.

Fair enough.

But then, if all his pranks lead to this outcome--outrage, retaliation, insult--why doesn’t he ever learn? How is it that after 1000 years of this behavior, he hasn’t found a better way to get the attention he craves?

Loop 1: Downplay, dispel, minimize, deflect. He accepts zero accountability for the impact of his actions, and doesn’t think at all about how they affect other people. Just a bit of fun. I had a hot bath and a glass of wine, and never thought about it again.

The only reason he reaches the level of self awareness on display in the Final Loop is because the looping forces him to contemplate his actions and the impulses within him that lead to that behavior.

This is projection on my part, but to me he acts as though this kind of deep reflection is a new thing for him. He sounds like someone sharing a revelation that he’s just had about himself. We’re being shown that Loki is a man of action. He will always move forward if he can, possibly because looking back to so painful that he can’t bring himself to do it.

Circling back around to the pride Loki has for his knavery, let’s suppose that he’s been on this negative reinforcement cycle since childhood. He’s always acted out to get attention, then received retaliation and insults for it, and then pushed the bad feelings out of his mind with creature comforts and mental gymnastics.

What happens over time, when you’re being constantly told that you’re a pain in the ass and no one likes you? Most of us would take it to heart, but Loki doesn’t. He has a big ego, big enough to resist that constant barrage of hate coming at him.

So how does he marry these two conflicting realities?

He turns it into an identity, the God of Mischief.

In his head, Loki excuses himself of blame by shifting the culpability to his moniker. It’s not that he’s immature and petty, he’s just a “trickster.” It’s in his nature to cause trouble, so he can’t help it. You wouldn’t dangle a steak in front of a tiger and blame the tiger for striking, would you? And if other people can’t take a “joke” then that’s not his fault, that’s on them for not having a sense of humor. It was just a bit of fun.

Here we see the union of these two halves of Loki, the lonely ice runt and the mischievous scamp. (And a little bit of the original Loki who Thor accused of being incapable of growth!)

By refusing to think about others, and excusing himself from responsibility, Loki successfully preserves his self worth and insulates himself to most of the negative emotions he experiences.

Pain, embarrassment, and grief aren’t pointless emotions though. They are vital feelings that serve to regulate our behavior, and that push us to conform to the ways of our social circles. Without them, we annoy and upset others. Be annoying for long enough and you will eventually find yourself, well, alone. As Loki is.

Thus “Mischief” is a self-defeating loop, and Loki is just as caught in it as the cell Mobius trapped him in.

In order to be free of both traps, Loki has to stop running. He has to take a deeper look at himself and realize how much he is getting in his own way. The entire scene is one big parallel between these two “loops.” Pretty neat, huh?

Sadly these kinds of thought loops are really difficult to break, they’re buried so deeply in our personalities and habits that we usually don’t notice them until life forces us to address them.

The cell is Loki’s wake up call, and thankfully he does seem to rise to the occasion. He tells Sif quite clearly what his problem is, and he does it with beautiful, painful honesty.

Which is why it’s so fucking awesome for Mobius to acknowledge that, and to finally give Loki a taste of positive attention.

You don’t deserve to be alone. I believe you can be anything, even something good. Whatever you two did, it was powerful enough to bring this whole place down.

It’s a beautiful scene. Well written, meticulously acted. The clarity of vision in the pacing and shot selection, it’s really something special.

#loki spoilers #loki #mcu #mobius #meta #discussion #discourse #scene study #long post #sif #time loop #tva #character study

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lokiskitten · 4 years ago

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Could you do one where they're both actors and filming an intense scene (could be an argument or confession etc...)

Tom Hiddleston | nice acting skills

Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader

plot : you’re a young actor who successfully managed to earn a role into a movie starring Tom Hiddleston himself. However, you tend to get nervous during the shooting of explicit scenes. Thankfully, your older co-star is here to make you feel at your ease.

warnings : public nudity, dry humping, unwanted lust.

No one seemed to pay much attention to you on set as you stood there in your robe, a cup of coffee in your hand as you were meant to wait until filming would finally begin. You had willingly agreed to get nude for this sex scene after being slightly pushed by the scenarist. However, your bottoms as well as your partner’s were meant to thankfully be hidden by the bedsheets which would result in only your upper body being exposed to the public eye.

This movie you had signed a contract for was meant to tell about the tragic love story of a grown man, a doctor, with one of his younger nurses. Even if it didn’t end well, you had always been a sucker for movies with sad endings and therefore didn’t mind giving in as much as you could to turn this film into a success.

Once the infamous Tom Hiddleston finally arrived on set, most people around here got up and hurried to properly welcome him. You slowly started to become more and more awkward, feeling like an outcast face to this international celebrity. Though Tom was indeed a very nice person to work with who always managed to make you feel at your ease through the toughest times and scenes. His first reflex was to come up to you, towel wrapped around his waist which covered his boxers clad crotch. Just like you, he had received a cup of coffee.

“How are you doing?” The British gentleman questioned, being aware that it was probably making you anxious to prepare to shoot for such a scene. As he talked to you, some makeup ladies continued to fix your screen partner up. “I’m okay. Just nervous.” You revealed awkwardly, still barely being able to believe that you were about to shoot a sex scene with one of the most good looking man on this earth. However, one of your main priorities was to make sure you would remain serious and professional. “Ah, I’m sure you’ll be okay.” He responded before taking a few steps towards the bed, where you two were meant to shoot.

You were now only a couple of minutes away from beginning to act, your mind trying to find time to get yourself into character. Just like Tom had previously done, your feet led you to the bed near which your assistants began to take off your robe. It was chilly, and it somewhat managed to bother you more than having to be naked before tons of strangers as well as a man you thought was handsome. Your cheeks heated up as you slipped underneath the covers, getting into proper position as you watched Tom remove his own towel and hand it to one of the assistants.

Just like you had recently done, the wonderful actor then slipped underneath the covers and got on top of you, making sure to respect your private space for as long as he could before filming would begin. You smiled up at him and he smirked back, winking at you in order to let you know that you had no reasons to feel uncomfortable. Being an extremely professional man when it came to work, Tom never ever grew sinful thoughts towards your delicate self and even avoided to look at your body. Yet you couldn’t help but stare at his, feeling absolutely hypnotized by how gorgeous he looked.

“You guys ready?!” The cameraman asked, referring to the entire crew which included the actors and other assistants. You had always thought he was rude, and absolutely hated the way he constantly yelled and gave orders to the crew mates. However you also managed to understand that he simply had to get work done. Tom placed his forearms by your head, stomach now gently colliding with yours as his blue eyes looked down at what he was doing in order to avoid accidentally hurting you. Of course, you trusted him through the process and therefore didn’t intervene through his adjustments.

“Scene 3, take 1.” One of the men announced before shutting close the cinema clapboard before the camera. You and Tom were now meant to fully get into character and begin, the man’s hips starting to grind against your bare ones as the covers thankfully hid your lower bodies away from the public eye. His lips unexpectedly collided against yours, your eyelids shutting quickly in order to allow you to kiss him back without feeling too awkward. Meanwhile, your brain tried its best to erase the presence of the other people in this room in order to allow you to truly do a good job.

You could sense that Tom was truly getting involved and putting in efforts to make this scene seem as realistic as possible, and you couldn’t help but feel absolutely impressed by his performance. In some way, it managed to help you feel better about yourself and more confident as well, your arms ending up wrapping around his neck and pulling your acting partner closer to your body. Tom secretly appreciated the way you suddenly decided to take initiatives, yet he knew that he had to remain in character for the sake of his career.

His hips continued to grind against yours, gentle moans escaping his lips as your mouth now moved down to his neck : one of his most sensitive spots, and which you obviously weren’t aware of. Getting caught off guard by this unexpected move, the grown man’s member slowly began to harden, much to Tom’s greatest despair. He innerly prayed for you not to notice, even though that would’ve been hard with his crotch eagerly grinding against yours underneath the confines of the bedsheets. He knew he couldn’t afford stopping through filming if he didn’t want people to notice his embarrassing situation. Therefore, his only remaining option was now to carry on no matter how lustful he was progressively becoming.

Meanwhile, you had slowly began to notice his crotch’s state, cheeks growing warm as you made sure to keep your face against the crook of his neck in order to hide your own state from the cameras. A few, which you assumed were, fake moans escaped Tom’s lips, his head tilting back as your face was now revealed to the public. His arms moved underneath your shoulders, your panting self arching your back and causing your crotch to roughly collide with his. Doubts no longer lived within yourself as the grown man’s hardness was clearly defined through his boxers.

It was now time for Tom to stop his movements and stare into your soul before the take would come to an end, his ocean blue eyes looking right into yours. The back of his hand caressed your cheek, and for a short instant the two of you seemed to be sharing genuine feelings for one another. Clenching your jaw as you got lost into his clear orbs, the yell coming from the cameraman thankfully managed to pull you back into reality. You awkwardly smiled at Tom as the rest of the crew began to get agitated around the prop bed, handing the two of you your respective robes so that you could remain warm even after exiting the sheets.

You still couldn’t manage to forget about how nice Tom’s hard member felt as it rubbed against your own bare genitals which had soaked up through the process. Besides, you secretly wished that the grown man had felt the same regarding the unexpected situation.

Here’s something different! I spoke with the girl who requested this imagine and she indeed told me that she wanted something which diverted towards smut. Don’t hesitate to leave a request. I love you all. ❤️❤️ requested tag : @delightfulheartdream

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #marvel #marvel imagine #tom hiddleston oneshot #Tom Hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston fanfic #Crimson Peak

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telehxhtrash · 5 years ago

Text

A masterpost on Togashi’s gay subtext and why it’s intentional.

Hi ! After seeing so many posts about Togashi dropping subtext about Killua's possible romantic feelings for Gon, I thought it'd be a good idea to make a sort of "masterpost" with all the subtext that Togashi has included into his work.

I usually see a lot of people trying to say that HxH isn't about romance and that Togashi isn't interested in writing romance into the manga, but when you analyze all the subtext that's been going on the further Gon and Killua's relationship progresses, I think it's incorrect to say that Togashi has never hinted at the possibility of romance in HxH.

This is going to be a long post, enjoy your read!

Also, please note that I will only base this analysis on the manga, so there can be no mistake that "maybe this is just something the anime made gayer" : i want to prove that the subtext is 100% intentional on Togashi's part.

I'd also like to mention, although I will analyze it further after listing the subtext, that Togashi is a VERY smart man. There are always little details in the story and/or foreshadowing that are easily missed at first but when you notice them, it truly makes you understand how much attention and care Togashi puts into his work. There are countless details and symbolism that are analyzed daily through wonderful meta posts, from the main 4′s birthdays and their link to their character or the religious symbolism in Kurapika’s story arc.... Togashi loves to foreshadow and plant little details into his work, so when Togashi plants subtext, I'm sure he 100% knows that he's writing it, and it can't be seen as unintentional.

I'll also link all my references for this post at the end of it, so feel free to read all the additional textposts and content if you want to know more.

Well, let's get into it!

EDIT : i can’t believe this post is still being used as a reference it makes me so happy... thank you so much !!! i edited this to tweak it a bit because i wrote this a while ago and the phrasing seemed off to me, so if you’re reading or re-reading this post, hi, welcome to masterpost on gay subtext 2.0 !

GREED ISLAND ARC

Greed Island is to me the arc that lays down the nature of Killua and Gon's relationship. It's during this arc that we get to see a bit more of what Killua thinks, how he's lucky to have met Gon and that he feels really grateful. Gon’s behavior in this arc is also very affectionate, with him always reassuring Killua about his place next to him. While the scene where Killua thinks "You've got it backwards, Gon, I'm the one that's glad I met you." can't be considered as subtext, I think it's something that lets the reader know a bit more about how Killua feels towards Gon.

But other than this scene, which can clearly be dismissed as platonic, there are 2 more moments in the Greed Island arc that are layered in subtext.

• The Rainbow Diamond (chapter 151)

During their time in Dorias, Killua uses Risky Dice to gain cards from the slot machines. The first card that Killua gains is called "Rainbow Diamond", the description of the card being "A diamond that shines in a rainbow of colors. Propose with this diamond and she is guaranteed to say "yes"".

There are 3 different things we can take from this panel. First, the card is a marriage proposal card, so it's obviously romantic in nature. Second, the object is a RAINBOW diamond. And third, Killua, wanting to keep the card safe, gifts it to Gon.

In short, Togashi sat down at his desk, decided to draw Killua winning a MARRIAGE PROPOSAL CARD (it could've been any card, but Togashi CHOSE to make Killua win a marriage proposal card) that has a RAINBOW diamond on it and made Killua gift it to Gon.

While I personally don't think that subtext can be used to 100% ascert that Killua has romantic feelings for Gon, I think it's a funny little touch from Togashi, and I'm even gonna say a sort of hint towards how Killua's feelings for Gon are going to evolve in this arc and the next.

• “It has to be Killua” (chapter 166)

Now this is a scene that I've never seen anyone talk about, at least on Tumblr, but when I read a bit of analysis on it I was 100% convinced this was intentional subtext. I'm basically quoting here what this article explains, so if you want more detail, I recommend reading it.

As you probably recall, during their deadly dodgeball game against Razor, Killua decides to sacrifice his hands to ensure that Gon could use all his strength. When confronted about it, Killua insists that it's nothing, and Gon shocks him by saying that he knew all along that he was hurting himself for his sake.

Gon then says that it can only be Killua holding the ball, and that it has to be Killua, resulting in Killua being absolutely awestruck and embarassed. I'm also going to talk about the anime adaptation for this one, because it's perfectly executed and translates extremely well the nuance that the second sentence bears. If you want to rewatch it, this scene happens in episode 70. It's worth noting that in the anime, we see Killua not reacting to Gon's first sentence, but losing his composure entirely when Gon says the second sentence. But why ?

The reason was lost in translation. His exact words are "Booru wa Killua ga motte-kurenai to. Killua ja nakya dame nan da.". Both sentences basically say the same thing : It has to be Killua holding the ball. That second sentence can be translated literally as "If it's not Killua, that won't do." However, the second sentence, in a different context, can also be used to say a totally different thing.

While it's certain that Gon used this sentence in the context of the dodgeball match, the sentence "~ja nakya dame nan da" also serves as a confession of one's feelings in japanese. It's basically the equivalent to "you're the one for me". When you google the sentence, it turns up romantic songs, forum posts asking what it would translate to in English and posts on how to confess to someone.

The sentence basically drowns in romantic subtext. As mentioned before, Killua has no reaction to the first sentence "Booru wa Killua ga motte-kurenai to.", but loses his composure at the second one, and I think that was a very deliberate thing Togashi wanted to convey : this sentence has an additional layer, and clearly Killua is taking it to heart.

I will come back to this specific subtext in a bit, because we can parallel it with another subtext-y situation, so please keep it in mind for now.

CHIMERA ANT ARC

Now onto the sad gay arc! This arc is so RIDDLED in subtext and parallels that it's making me lose my mind.

• Gon, you are light. (chapter 199)

This scene is just... So romantic in nature. I’m not too objective on this, but I really do believe that this moment is the exact moment Killua fell in love with Gon and started to realize he felt a bit more than friendship towards him. It’s Killua respecting Gon for who he is, realizing that he’s light and he’s always been, he’s the one who saved him and who’s always been so bright and optimistic and always makes the best out of any situation. In this scene, Killua lets himself drown in Gon’s light, allows himself to feel this “wow” moment of pure admiration and love, and it’s absolutely beautiful.

It's extremely important to take the context of this scene into account. What happened is that Killua, who has been struggling mentally for the entire series with the fact that he's always running away, ran away once more, leaving Kite to die with Pitou. This ENTIRE chapter is literally adults absolutely DESTROYING Killua, first Kite's troupe bashing him for leaving Kite behind, and then Netero, Morel and Knov coming in like icing on the cake telling Killua that "After all, he's just a kid", and that he should hurry up to his mommy.

Killua is beating himself up for running away again, got destroyed by Kite's team and 3 extremely strong pro hunters. His morale is down in the drains right now. He expects Gon to be mad at him for betraying Kite, for running away once again, for leaving Kite to die alone and ripping Gon away from Kite : he expects that he'll lose Gon for his cowardice.

HOWEVER, the first thing that Gon says to Killua after having been passed out for god knows how many hours is "Thank you".

Gon woke up and instantly eased up all of Killua's fears : he wasn't a loser for running away, and Gon was actually thankful for him. Gon, at this moment, was the only one that showed kindness, understanding and gratefulness towards Killua. Gon even goes so far as saying that he knows that Kite isn't dead, and that they have to help him. At this instant, Gon is truly Killua's saving grace. He's the one that trusts him with his entire heart, and believes in his choices when even he can't believe in himself. Gon is truly Killua's light at this precise moment, because he was the only one who supported him, trusted him and reassured him in this awful situation.

How can someone shine so bright in such a terrible situation ? How can someone be so positive that nothing bad will happen ?

Gon asserting all of this makes Killua respect him a lot. Keep this word in mind, because it’s going to be important in the next piece of subtext I’m analyzing, because those two scenes canonically follow each other and are basically Togashi highlighting that something special happened when Killua called Gon his light, and that his feelings deepened.

• Introduction to Palm's character (chapter 200)

This piece of subtext is very very easy to miss but it's one of the most important subtext-y scene, because coupled with the “Gon, you are light” scene, it’s very clear that this dialogue is deliberately highlighting Killua’s feelings.

This chapter introduces Palm's character (which, imo, is a character introduced for the sole intent of being a catalyst to Killua's feelings towards Gon, but I'll talk about it in my post talking about the CAA parallels) - edit: i talked about this briefly here.

So, Killua having looked into Gon's eyes for like 10min straight and concluded that Gon was the light of his life a chapter ago, is now chilling with Gon as they meet Palm.

Palm takes them to a café and STRAIGHT OFF THE BAT harasses them about how much she's in love with Knov. Like when I say harassing, it's literally a whole page of her explaining her feelings towards Knov.

There are two interesting things that can be drawn from this interaction.

First, it's extremely easy to draw parallels between Palm's situation towards Knov and Killua's situation towards Gon. Palm starts by saying how amazing her master is, that she probably has special feelings for him but the most important thing is to respect the other person. Remember how I talked about how this last scene was Killua having a surge of deep, deep respect for Gon ? Palm makes sure to highlight that special word, that it’s important to respect someone when it comes to love.

She then goes on to say that she hasn't said anything to Knov, and never will. All of this adds nothing to the story, it's empty dialogue, Togashi could've introduced Palm in virtually any other way possible, but he chose to drag her and the gay duo to a café and make her have a monologue about love RIGHT after the extremely emotional panel of Killua declaring that Gon is his light just a chapter ago.

But there's more. Not only does Palm monologue for a while about love, but after finishing her monologue, this happens :

This panel features ONLY Palm and Killua, her looking at him like the psycho she is, and straight up telling him that "love can suddenly spark out of nowhere, don't you think so?".

What's so interesting about this is the fact that Togashi made the deliberate choice to have Palm say this to Killua and Killua ONLY, which after the gay existential crisis he had last chapter, can very much be applied to his situation. Love DID spark out of nowhere, and Togashi wants you to notice. Togashi could've made Palm say this to herself, with no distinct listener like the last panel, but he made the conscious choice to draw this panel with Palm adressing herself to Killua SPECIFICALLY.

Those two pieces of subtext, that fit perfectly together, make me believe 100% that Togashi knows what he's doing and he's not unintentionally planting gay subtext in his work. The fact that Togashi sat at his desk, drew Killua calling Gon his light, and then followed this scene with the introduction to a character who picks Killua apart to tell him that "love is something that just happens, don't you think?" is 100% proof that Togashi knows what he's doing.

• Date with Palm (chapters 217 and 218)

I think this situation has many layers, but many people still dismiss it as bro behavior so I'm gonna try my best to counter argue. First of all, and although that's not proof of anything, Killua looks EXTREMELY distressed by the prospect of Gon going on a date with Palm, but that can be counter-argued by saying that Killua is just worried because Palm is completely crazy.

What I want to talk about is the scene that happens right after, when Gon and Killua go to the gym (because theyre DUDES YEAH WE WORK OUT NO HOMO), and the conversation casually drifts to Killua asking Gon if he's ever been on a date before, valid question considering what just happened previously. There are multiple things here :

1) Killua seems distressed that Gon has been on dates before. While it can be argued that it's a normal reaction because Gon has and he hasn't, I believe that Killua - who is in no way a normal person who would get flustered about "not having been on dates before a certain age" - would not feel uncomfortable that his friend is more experienced than him - especially when literal seconds later, he monologues about how he doesn’t care about dates and just wants to stick with Gon.

2) Gon then proceeds to ask Killua if he's ever been on a date, to which Killua responds :

What I want to highlight is the panel where Killua says "And the truth is, I want to stay by your side... Always...". Basically, what Killua is saying, is that he doesn't care about dates, all he wants to do is be with Gon.

I don't think this can be counter-argued as bro behavior, but with all the subtext I've explained before, this right here is pretty gay. Togashi put this panel deliberately to show that Killua doesn't give a crap about dates when he can stay with Gon, and with the "gon you are light" scene and everything in mind, this is another intentional subtext.

There's also the fact that Killua stalks the date like a jealous girlfriend - but I'm not gonna count that as subtext because it can be argued that he's just worried about Gon because Palm is insane.

• Gon is my best friend ! (chapter 219)

Remember how I told you to keep the "It has to be Killua" subtext in mind because I was gonna come back to it later ? Well.

During Palm's date with Gon, Killua runs into Rammot, who would definitely have ran into Palm and nenless Gon. Killua is forced to confront his worst fear : this is the moment where he knows that if he runs away again, Gon WILL die. Killua is literally overcoming his "programming", the physical representation of years of abuse out of love and care for Gon. He's ripping out the needle from his forehead out of pure, genuine care for Gon, because if he doesn't, then he'll lose him forever.

Now, what I actually wanna talk about is this panel :

What we see is Killua thinking happy thoughts about all his adventures with Gon because he can't - won't - doesn't want to run away anymore, and all this for his sake. But what I wanna draw attention to is the dodgeball panel that's bigger than all the others, and the only one where you can actually clearly make out what's written : "Killua ja nakya dame nan da".

Now, isn't that interesting that the panel that takes a bigger place in the whole panel is the one with this particular sentence? Remember what I talked about a bit earlier, about how "~ ja nakya dame nan da" is a sentence with a lot of romantic connotations (would pretty much equal to "you're the one for me" in English). Clearly this particular sentence stuck with Killua.

I'm not completely objective on this matter since I firmly believe that at this point, Killua has romantic feelings for Gon, but I interpret this as another deliberate thing Togashi did : putting the panel bigger so we can see that it has a particularly significant importance to Killua, and Killua's state of mind right now (not wanting to lose Gon).

In my opinion, two things happened here: One, Killua remembers this specific interaction because he knows how much Gon trusts him and he doesn't want to betray his trust. But I also firmly believe that Killua remembered this specific interaction because of the romantic connotation the sentence "Killua ja nakya dame nan da" has. Those words clearly shocked him, and I think he remembers them in this life-threatening situation, after the "gon you are light" scene, Palm talking about "love just happens", the "i want to stay with you, always" because he realizes that he wishes Gon would say that sentence in a romantic context, and not in the context of the dodgeball match, thus leading him to surpass himself to prove his love and perhaps live to see the day where Gon could say those words in that romantic context.

Now, of course, all of this is my interpretation, so it's really up to debate, but I really wanna highlight the fact that Togashi deliberately CHOSE to highlight this particular interaction between Gon and Killua, this sentence with romantic subtext, to lead Killua to finally break his chains and be able to be protect Gon fully. It’s also interesting to note that the 2011 anime adaptation also makes it a point to emphasize how deep these words stuck to Killua by making it the last flashback that makes Killua effectively rip out the needle out of his head.

Also let's quickly mention the irony in the situation here : while Gon is on a romantic date, Killua fights to protect him, overcoming his weakness to prove his love. It’s not Palm who deserves that date, it’s Killua.

• A lovers’ suicide (chapter 286)

Now, onto the most important piece of subtext, that can not be counterargued as platonic in any way, shape or form. During the palace invasion, Killua leaves Gon's side, proceeds to go kick Youpi's butt only to have to fall back because he used up all his electricity nen. When Killua is charging up, he meets with Meleoron, and tells him that once he's done charging, he'll go back to Gon's side.

They briefly exchange information about the battle, and then Meleoron proceeds to ask Killua what's the plan for him and Gon. That's when Killua explains that "Once Gon is like this, he won't budge an inch. Worst case scenario, it'll be a double suicide.". At worst they both die, cool. They “go down in flames together”. It’s actually much, much more meaningful than that.

The specific word that Killua uses for double suicide is "心中" (shinjuu), which is a heavily romantically connotated word in japanese. Shinjuu, also translated as "lovers’ suicide", is when two people die out of love, by the same method, because there's a belief that this'll allow those two people to spend eternity together. Shinjuu is a major theme of Japanese literature, and it is always used romantically. It's a very uncommon word to use to refer to two people dying together, because of its heavy romantic connotation, and because it always refers to double suicide committed by people bound by love. In literature, it always refers to two lovers, in love. If you want to read more on shinjuu, i suggest this and this, those articles explain its historic roots and the definition, also emphasizing the feeling of "oneness" that characterizes shinjuu. If you’re interested, I also suggest reading the japanese article that defines shinjuu, and hitting the google translate button, it has some pretty interesting sentences like “Shinjuu is traditionally committed by men and women out of mutual love, in the hope that they will be connected in the afterlife because they can't be together in this world.”

So basically, what Killua is saying is that he wants to go back to Gon's side to die with him, committing a "lovers’ suicide" because he doesn't want to leave Gon to die alone, and wants to die with him.

I also want to emphasize how special this word is to Killua, and that he and everyone around him know the special meaning of this word - In chapter 300, Ikalgo literally says "We were... No, KILLUA was ready to commit shinjuu with Gon". Ikalgo is really highlighting the fact that this word holds special meaning, especially to Killua, and that it was HIM who was willing to commit shinjuu by staying with Gon. Ikalgo and company dying with Gon wouldn't be shinjuu, but Killua dying with Gon would be, and Togashi emphasizes this through Ikalgo's thoughts.

This is pretty much the gist of it, but I suggest reading the wonderful post I linked in the references below if you want to know more about this specific subtext.

(edit : i actually wrote a post going a bit more into detail on Killua’s shinjuu wish if you want to read it here ! :3)

• “The one that Gon needs the most is you” (chapter 294)

I will go into this subtext more in details when I write the post about parallels in CAA, but I still want to talk about it briefly here.

Like I said before, to me, Palm was introduced as a catalyst for Killua's feelings towards Gon. Togashi purposefully wrote Palm as having romantic feelings for Gon to foil Killua's feelings for Gon and make him show jealousy towards Palm.

To Killua, Palm is someone who stole Gon from him, he sees her as a threat because maybe she'll make Gon happier than he does ? (ofc we all know thats not true but Killua is baby) - Basically, Killua thinks Palm might be more important to Gon than Killua is, because he believes they are romantically involved. That's why when he sees her again later on, after Gon rejected his help, leaving Killua helpess as to how to save his dear friend, Killua sees Palm as a saving grace.

He knows that if Gon sees Palm as a chimera ant, he will spiral down even more, so he tries to reason with her to get her to be gentle to Gon, because if not her, then who could? Palm would clearly be able to comfort Gon, with whom Killua believes is romantically involved with, better than him, right ? If Gon rejected Killua, then clearly Palm could help, since she seems closer to Gon (BECAUSE HE BELIEVES THEYRE DATING), right?

This confrontation between Palm and Killua closely ressembles a situation like an ex confronting a new girlfriend - and I think this is exactly why Togashi wrote Palm this way. He wanted Killua to confront who he thought was a threat to their relationship, making him believe that this person who's """"dating"""” Gon is more important to him than himself, only to have her openly admit that she means nothing to Gon. The only one Gon needs is Killua.

And that, my friends, coming from someone you believe is romantically involved with your best friend (who you probably have a crush on), someone you're jealous of, the one you thought was the person most important to him, that's a pretty meaningful statement.

Basically, what's happening, is that Palm reaffirms that Gon holds Killua closer than a potential romantic partner. And that's why Killua is so, so happy to hear that. He was questioning his entire relationship, questioning if Gon even cared about him, because he rejected him a few minutes before, but then his "rival" comes in and reaffirms that even she knows that no one comes close to Killua to Gon.

I also want to mention that this act of pure love (Killua only thinking of saving Gon when in a life threatening situation) is what made Palm come back to her human senses. d'awwwwww

• Illumi and Hisoka’s parallel on lovers who die of Alluka’s requests. (chapter 323)

Now onto the final significant subtext - while I don't particularly think of it as subtext-y, I know a lot of people have so I still want to include it here.

When Illumi explains Alluka's powers to Hisoka, he explains that there are two different types of linked deaths when a request is failed : 1) the person who failed + the person they love the most 2) the person who failed + the people they spent most of their time with.

When applied to Killua, Hisoka naturally comes to the conclusion that no matter the outcome, Gon would always be the one dying with Killua, because he's spent so much time with him, and because he's the one that Killua loves the most. In the panel where Illumi explains this, we see a romantic, heterosexual couple demonstrating the effects of not completing one of Alluka's requests, and thus the "most important person dying".

While not making any true parallels, the fact that Hisoka, and the readers, are drawn to compare a heterosexual, romantic pairing to Killua dying with Gon because he's his "most important person" is an interesting piece of subtext.

_______

I want to finish by talking about Killua's birthday and how significant it is in my opinion. All the main 4 characters have birthdays that fall on specific dates, related to Japanese tradition, and often with events that can be associated to their character. Gon's is 5/5, which is Children's Day. Kurapika's is 4/4, the number 4 being considered an unlucky number, and this being an unlucky day to have a child. Leorio's is 3/3, Hinamatsuri (not really any main parallels here but still). But Killua's birthday is 7/7, and is the Japanese day to celebrate Tanabata.

If you are not familiar with Tanabata, the story is as follows : Orihime is a princess who works for her father, working hard and well, but she laments the fact that because of her hard work she can't meet someone and fall in love. Her father arranges for her to meet Hikoboshi, allowing Orihime to leave because he expects her to come back to work for him, but the two immediately fall in love and get married, and she never returns. I won't get into the rest of the story as it's this part that interests me the most, but if you want to read more about Killua and Tanabata I suggest reading the post I referenced below.

Does the story of Orihime remind you of anyone ? Killua also works for his father, but laments the fact that he can't go outside and meet someone. His father then lets him go, saying, and i quote: "he will come back, because he's my son". Doesn't this remind you of the tale of Tanabata ? Killua's story references the tale of Orihime perfectly, and I believe this is intentional : Killua's birthday isn't of any importance to the plot, so why make it Tanabata, a day that celebrates a love story that closely ressembles Killua's story ? The answer is simple : subtext.

With all this in mind, I think it's pretty clear that Togashi is writing intentional subtext to hint at Killua's feelings being romantic in nature. Togashi is a master writer, he has years of experience, and I strongly believe he knows what he's doing and not planting unintentional subtext. He's a very smart man, and knows how all of this can be interpreted.

I will finish by saying that Togashi is NOT an author that would deliberately queerbait his readers. So many people dismiss the possibility of having gay subtext leading onto an actual canon gay relationship because "it's not like the author would ever have gay main characters". While this holds true for a lot of manga authors, especially shonen manga authors, it does NOT apply to Togashi.

Togashi has always displayed interest in queer subjects and queer representation, putting trans characters in all of his major works (Miyuki in YYH, Mikihisa in Level E and Alluka in HxH). There were also canonically gay characters in his previous works : Itsuki in YYH, and a character named Kuramoto in Level E.

Togashi also always had interest in mangas having BL elements, citing Maya Mineo's "Patalliro!" as a manga he was attracted to during High School. If you're unfamiliar with Patalliro, the story focuses on the main character's love life as a gay man. He also admitted to basing Hiei's (YYH) design off a character from that manga.

Last but not least, Togashi mentioned in a note included in volume 1 of YYH that he wanted to write a sports manga, called The Trouble Quartet, where basically all the characters are gay. Togashi said he based it off his own interests as a writer, and that while it was refused by Shonen Jump, he got deeply attached to the project and that he would love to explore this project in a different shape once he made a name for himself. I suggest reading this post because the parallels between The Trouble Quartet and HxH are HILARIOUSLY accurate.

In short, Togashi has always had interest in queer matters, and was always interested in putting queer representation in his work. After YYH, which was a terrible experience for Togashi as a writer, he managed to snatch a contract that basically allows him to do whatever he wants with HxH. Having always held dear BL matters but never being able to explore it to his full intent, I believe Togashi is exploring queer identity further with HxH, because Shonen Jump basically lets him do anything.

To conclude, with Togashi's past experience and skill, his interest in queer representation, and the amount of subtext surrounding Killua, I honestly believe that Togashi is trying to explore further queer representation, and I wouldn't be surprised if HxH ends with Gon and Killua becoming a canon pairing, whether it be delivered in an ambiguous manner or not.

Edit : I actually wrote a post on why I believe it won’t be ambiguous, and that it’s truly never been ambiguous, just developing : here.

I hope you enjoyed the read, thank you for reading all of this, and feel free to show this to anyone who denies subtext in HxH !

REFERENCES

- "It has to be Killua" - Medium article, "Impossibilities in Translating Queerness : The Dodgeball Dilemma"

- Palm's Date Scene - Reddit post, "Togashi's love of Ambiguity: Chapters 217 and 218"

-A thematic analysis of Palm’s character : ”The Issue With Palm”

- Shinjuu - Tumblr post by hunterxhell, "A lovers' suicide, I guess." : + the post that mentions Ikalgo talking about shinjuu

- An analysis on different subtext-y situations

- Illumi and Hisoka’s parallel : here and here

- Killua’s birthday : "Killua, July 7th, and the significance of his birthdate”

- Togashi's interview mentioning Mineo's Patalliro

#hxh #hxh meta #hunter x hunter #killugon #meta #my posts #my meta

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asterroidd · 4 years ago

Text

cotton sweatshirt

↬ College AU

↬ Pairing: Levi Ackerman/Reader

↬ Word count: 2.6k

↬ Synopsis: Fatigue was slowly consuming you, luckily your roommate is there to save the day

↬ Notes: Thank you so much for the request anon! I apologize it took so long before I wrote it. Anw, I hope you enjoy it!

↬ no proofread whatsoever, capn’

5th and 12th prompts: “Give me back my keys! I’m fine!” and “Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

It was too much. All too much; the endless tasks, the studying, and numerous all-nighters that you had pulled by now.

It was so taxing that your body couldn't keep up; eyes blood shot red from restless staring at the laptop screen, sunken cheeks due to the insufficient meal you are getting, and dark bags under your eyes that are evidently visible even from afar. If one would see you in such a state, one would assume you are a zombie or the living dead.

Chewing your bottom lip, fingers anxiously taped against the wooden desk. Drained yes boring into the laptop screen as you tried your best to understand the text displayed in it. Your professor just had to be missing in action that week due to health reasons and as such couldn't attend most of the classroom session to teach. The replacement is just as worse—having no mastery over the lesson at hand that it only made it more confusing than before. So, you had to self-study for the sole sake of having a passing grade this semester. Finals weeks is looming around the corner and it's best that you understands the lessons beforehand so that you wouldn't have difficulty in studying once again later on.

Your study session was supposed to be done before noon, yet here you are still hunched over the desk. A pencil at hand in attempt to take notes in the filler notebook. Your other hand curled up a fist full of hair, then ever so often tugging it in frustration. True, you did try to search online for other readings and videos that could potentially help you in your dilemma. Alas, you find yourself scratching your scalp and pulling your hair in frustration as you failed, yet again, to grasp the concept of the topic.

Perhaps a book, you thought to yourself. There is a local library nearby—suppose a ten minute walk, could be even seven if you walked fast enough. For sure there are a handful of books there that could finally help you in understanding the lesson. And so with a drained sigh, you closed the lid of the laptop and stood up.

You took in your surroundings; which was an utter mess. Eraser shards littered on top of your desk that some even fell to the floor due to you hastily sweeping them off. Mountains of books scattered around—some opened with a random item on top to act as a makeshift paper weight. Sticky notes plastered all over the walls and stacks upon stacks of paper everywhere. In short, your room looks like a battleground.

Which it is; an academic battleground, that is.

That said, you swiftly stuffed a handful of notebooks and pens into a small backpack so you could continue the study session at the library. Perhaps a change in environment would ease you off and clear your mind. When you exited from your room, you were surprised to see Levi lounging off the living room. A bowl of popcorn on his lap whilst lazily popping one in his mouth every so often. His eyes glued to the TV screen as it played a series, The Confession Tapes you presumed. Ever since you showed him the first episode a few days ago, he was so intrigued and thus became so hook with the story line.

Oh, to have freedom and time for leisure activities like Levi. You would willingly kill just to have that.

"I'll be heading off to the library for a while," you uttered under your breath. Levi turned his head towards your direction, slowly munching on the popcorn. "I might come home late so I'll bring the keys with me."

He paused the movie momentarily to narrow his eyes at you. Levi looked at you from top to bottom, assessing and processing the current state you are in. Which was hell. You looked like a vampire that crawled out of your coffin after decades of isolation. Of all the years he and you had been roommate, Levi had practically memorised most of your mannerism and behaviour so much. And at the moment, he knew all to well that you would be, yet again, working yourself to the grave.

With a sigh, Levi placed the bowl of popcorn on top of the coffee table before approaching you. "Can't you see yourself, idiot?"

You scrunched up your nose in confusion. What does he mean by that?

"When was the last time you ate?"

You racked your brain for answers. When was it truly that last time you had a proper meal besides energy bars that you bought from the convenience store. You went silent for a moment, eyes cascading down.

"I had instant noodles I think? Last night," you answered after a pregnant pause.

"Then that means you have not eaten anything since this morning?"

You only nodded in response, all too tired to argue back with him. All you wanted to do was to finally leave the apartment and resume your study session in the library. Where, in hopes, you could finally progress in.

Levi clicked his tongue. No wonder you look like a living dead. You are barely getting any nutrition in your body at all! Being studious is a great thing—but being all too unforgiving and torturing one's body too much is an unacceptable habit.

As swift as a fox, he snagged the keys from your hands. You, in your drained state, reacted poorly and sluggishly. Though, you gave him one ferocious glare.

"Give it back, Levi." You held out your hand.

"No. You should rest. You look like shit."

"Give me back my keys. I'm fine!"

Levi, much to your surprise, had a hint of worry in his eyes. Silence fell between you and him, eyes focused on each other. You thought of kicking him on the shin, then took the chance to grab the keys. But you find yourself unable to as your body slowly slumped over.

You let out one tired sigh, eyes closing every now and then in drowsiness, but you can't give in. Not now. Not at least you'd finally understand and finish writing your notes. Still, exams is a couple of weeks away. Surely a brief break wouldn't hurt?

You groaned, the floor beneath your feet swaying as you struggled to keep yourself upright. It was only then did you notice the ever growing itch in your throat which signifies tonsillitis, mucus flooding your nasal passages, and increased body temperature.

"I'm fine. . ." you inhaled sharply. "Just—" you continued but was caught short when your knees buckled under your weight, causing you to lean forward. Luckily enough, Levi caught you just in the nick of time before you fell face first into the wooden floor.

"Tch. Look at what you got yourself into," he huffed, palm pressing against your forehead. "You also have a fever, dumbass."

Did you now? You let your head rest into his touch, relishing his cool touch against your flushed ones. Maybe you really need a rest.

"How about you take a seat on the couch while I brew you a cup of tea?"

"Sounds good. . ." you uttered under your breath.

That said, Levi practically dragged your body towards the couch and helped you settle on it. Making sure that you are comfortable enough by placing pillows behind your head. The male crouched down to your level, bringing a hand up once again to your forehead to properly estimate your temperature this time.

"Looks like a bad one. . ." he muttered.

"You tell me. I feel like shit," you've managed to crack a joke despite your conditions. Levi rose his brow at you, shaking his head at your idiocy. Then you watched him as he removed his cotton sweatshirt that hung loosely on his figure. Suffice to say, you were beyond perplexed when Levi placed the article of clothing on top of your lap.

"You're cold aren't you?" he shrugged his shoulders. "Wear that for the time being to keep you warm."

That said, he soon disappeared inside the kitchen to perhaps brew you a cup of tea much to your delight. It is practically known that the male had an immense skill in brewing and perfecting the art of tea. And as his roommate, Levi practically forced you to learn how to brew yourself; mainly because he doesn't want you wasting precious tea leaves that are far too expensive to be wasted. You recalled the time spent with him, hours upon hours inside the kitchen while trying your best to not burn your hands as you, yet again, try to perfect boiling tea. Levi stood beside you, a scowl present on his face as he frowned at your blend.

Do it again, he snarled. The temperature is not right.

It was little moments such as those reminds you of how much of a stuck up bitch Levi is. Nonetheless, the male still have a special place in your heart as your roommate and perhaps crush.

Gingerly holding his sweater in your hands, you took one deep whiff of his scent—despite mucus flooding your nose—relishing the soft floral scent of the detergent that he bought about a week ago. Yet, Levi's natural aroma gradually overflows your nasal cavity; refreshing and clean with a hint of musky scent. It was pure heaven.

Blood rushed to your cheeks as you let his sweatshirt hug your body, encompassing you more with his scent. Truth to be told, it was your long time dream to wear one of Levi's clothing. Suppose it was the thought of you in his clothes that brings butterflies to your stomachs, or the pure concept of his smell flooding your senses. Either way, you liked it.

"Hey. . ." Levi's voice boomed which slightly startled you. The male placed a mug full of tea on the coffee table before kneeling down and opening a pack of fever patch.

"What flavor did you brew?" you mumbled.

"Chamomile," Levi replied, brushing your hair away from your forehead. For a brief moment, he stopped to stare at your glossy eyes due to the fever. Small patches of sweat that peppered your skin that glistened slightly under the light. Not to mention your lips that he oh so long to get a taste of for months—but he wouldn't tell you that out loud. Red dusted his cheeks ever so lightly that you would've missed if it weren't for your keen attention to detail.

Levi bit the insides of his cheeks, slapping himself internally to focus at the task at hand which it to place a fever patch on your forehead. That said, he carefully set it against your temples. Making sure that it is adhered on firmly as to not fall in case you tossed and turn in your sleep. A smile adorned your features as soon as the cool hydrogel rested against your skin. You mumbled a quick gratitude towards the male before snuggling deep into his sweatshirt.

"Levi. . ." you started to which he hummed in response, helping you sit up. Then, the male gave you the mug with hot tea. Its heavenly aroma making you sigh in relax. "Come sit with me?" you asked, patting the space next to you.

The male opened his mouth to argue; to refuse your request because he doesn't want to catch your germs and be sick himself. Though, with one look at your puppy-dog eyes and pouting lips, Levi knew that he wouldn't be able to resist you. "Fine. . ." he begrudgingly replied.

You let out a small cheer of victory. Placing your head on top of his shoulder the minute he sat beside you. Even for just a moment—just for this day—you want to delve into your fantasies and revel in the company of the male. Levi looked at you from the corner of his eye, admiring how his sweatshirt that embraces your form. Due to him being quite short in stature, his clothes were not too big. So, naturally, most of his wardrobe would probably fit you. Which he has no complaints about.

"Can we watch Kitchen nightmares?" you asked, taking one small sip of tea as to not burn your tongue.

Levi shrugged, "Why not?" That said, he adhered to your request. Playing that one episode in the series that he knew you enjoyed watching despite the countless times you've already seen it.

You relaxed back into the couch, letting more of your weight press against Levi as your hands cupped the warm mug in between. The brutal and fierce howls of criticism of Gordon Ramsey brings a small smile to your lips, and oddly enough, as well as Levi's. Watching Kitchen's Nightmares (as well as other shows that the iconic chef starred in) was a guilty pleasure, so to say, of both yours and the male's. There is just something so satisfying how the chef makes people humble down and admit their mistakes.

One great thing that comes from watching his series was that Levi could learn a thing or two in cooking. Even though he was already great from the start. The male picks up a recipe or two just by watching the series, much to your satisfaction. Between you and Levi, he is the mother of the household, if you will. While you're just one lazy couch potato who would receive an ear full of scolding every now and then.

Soon enough, you felt your eyelids closing involuntarily, yet you fought to keep them open. It was getting into the good part—the climax—of the episode and you didn't want to sleep through it. Though, you find yourself giving in and finally letting your eyes rest for once. You exhaled, rubbing your cheeks against Levi's shoulder blades in attempts to get more comfortable. The male shifted on the couch, allowing you to be cozy and warm with him beside you.

In your dazed state, you swore that Levi slowly rest his head on top of yours. Nevertheless, you couldn't conclude if it was true since the sweet embrace of sleep consumed you. For the first time in that week, you finally had a good night's rest.

Levi relaxed under your touch, finally relieved that you gave in and let your body get the rest it deserves after days upon days of continuous work. He contemplated whether to turn off the television so that the noise wouldn't bother you in your sleep, or keep it open since a part of him wants to finish the episode. Though, his thoughts were caught short when you murmured.

"Levi. . ." you mumbled in your sleep, hands gripping his sweatshirt.

"What?" he humored, despite knowing that you are in deep slumber and is probably sleep-talking.

Then to his surprise, you whispered a phrase that he never anticipated would slip past your lips.

"I love you. . ."

He was taken a back, eyes wide while his mouth slightly hung open. Levi blinked once, then twice, trying to process if what he heard was real or was his imagination deceiving him.

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?" Levi said, testing to see if you were truly asleep or was just toying with him. When he concluded that you were—in fact—knocked out and catching some Z's, he breathed lowly the three words he oh so wanted to tell you for months.

"I love you, too. Brat." He snaked his hand around yours, intertwining his fingers around your hand.

Little did Levi know, you were half-awake during his confession.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #aot #aot x reader #snk #snk x reader #reader insert #asters fics

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peach-pops · 4 years ago

Text

Amorentia || Kuroo Tetsurō

summary: amorentia has a different scent or aroma for anyone who smells it and the potion, if done correctly, can remind the user of things or more specifically someone they find most attractive, even if the said person is oblivious in their attraction.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: none

authors note: i dont know why i always end up writing for kuroo but this dude just speaks to me on an inspirational level ya know? kuroo is a ravenclaw in this but the reader is gn and i didn’t specify what house the reader is in to make it a bit more inclusive. credits to @rhymewithrachel for the picture of kuroo which you can find here and pls check out their page for more amazing art! also i def feel like i’ve written the last few lines on like another piece i’ve done but oh well if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it

The library was eerily still for a Thursday morning but you relished in how quiet it was. You had found the perfect sweet spot; not too late where you would forget breakfast but early enough to where you would avoid the morning rush of students who would try to find a quiet spot to study.

The lowly lit lanterns were useless since the sun was beginning to peak its way through the windowpane behind you and the small semblance of light drew your attention to the dust that was floating lazily in the air.

Even though there were hardly any students around you, you felt as though you were tucked away from the world as you spread your legs out against the leather couch with a Magic Potions: Basic for Beginners textbook settled in your lap. Besides the ever so often sound of a few students rustling their papers, it was truly peaceful.

“ Good morning beautiful, mind if I join you?”

Bloody hell.

You looked up from your textbook to see Kuroo standing over by your legs that were neatly crossed over each other. You would be lying if you said you weren’t slightly taken aback by seeing him so early in the morning but even if he did manage to wake up on time for class, his hair was still a disheveled mess from his horrid bedhead.

“ You’re up early,” You replied normally as you turned your attention back to your book,” by the way, your tie is crooked, might want to fix that, yeah?”

You and Kuroo were both in the same year but you two didn’t officially get acquainted until your fourth year when he had “accidentally” spilled butterbeer all over you and then attempted to wipe it off with his bare hand.

“ Shit, I-I am so sorry! Let me just-”

“ Can you stop feeling me up and get me a napkin instead, you creep?”

“ A creep? I’m nothing short of a gentleman- speaking of which, are you dating anyone by chance?”

“ Are you joking? As if I would be under the accompaniment of a clumsy Ravenclaw like yourself.”

Your vow was fully ignored and by some weird alignment of the planets, you two had been inseparable since. Of course, Kuroo still spent his time over the past two years trying to woe you in some way and while you used to find yourself flustered over his charm, you managed to get used to the constant flirting between the two of you.

Who were you kidding, the flirting was mostly one-sided unless you weren’t exhausted trying to think of witty comebacks to try and get him stumbling over his words like the first time you two met.

However, you weren’t blind. You were bold enough to admit to yourself that over the years, Kuroo got progressively wittier, taller, and yes, possibly more attractive. You would never admit it out loud but there was a slight possibility you were starting to see him in a different light.

Nonetheless, you figured feelings like those would just come and go, and surely you didn’t actually have feelings for him.

Kuroo looked down at his tie and shrugged nonchalantly before fixing it,” I was tossing and turning all night, poor Akaashi had to sleep in the common room because I was keeping him up too. Quidditch tryouts are this afternoon and I’m hoping we can get a strong team together so we can keep up our legacy.”

“ First-year as captain and you’re already nervous,” You clicked your tongue against your teeth as you took another bite of your raspberry scone, utilizing the silence between the two of you as you finished chewing,” hopefully Ravenclaw will get some wins this year. You know, for your own sake and my sanity.”

“ Okay ouch, first of all, you know you’re not supposed to eat in the library it’s forbidden,” Kuroo crossed his arms playfully over his chest as you only hummed in response,” and second of all, maybe if I had someone special cheering me on, I would do immensely better.”

You knew he was only being smug since you always showed up to his games but nothing was more entertaining than watching Kuroo practically gush over Quidditch only for you to act somewhat disinterested.

“ Aw, do you want me to show up with some blue and bronze paint over my face? Maybe even bring a poster with your name on it with little hearts decorated on the border because I have sooo much free time on my hands?” You teased as you played with your hair while pouting back up at him, relishing in the way he shifted from side to side,” honestly Kuroo, you know I have better things to do than to watch you fly around like a lunatic.”

Kuroo smirked to himself but said nothing to retaliate as he offered his hands to help you out of your seat once he saw the time,” Come on, you know Slughorn will throw another fit if we’re late again and by the looks of it, you can’t afford falling behind.”

For a moment, you thought that maybe you had gone too far. His response was almost disappointing in contrast to how he would usually retort with something wittier of the sort but it was out of your control now.

You closed your textbook and grabbed Kuroo’s hands so he could help you off the leather couch but once he got you up to your feet, his strong grip on your hands didn’t release.

Your chests were almost touching and the distance between you two was so small, you could distinctively smell his signature vanilla aftershave that he put on every morning. You looked down at your hands that were fitted perfectly against his as Kuroo leaned down close to your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

“ Don’t act so coy, Y/N. I know you would love nothing more than to wear my jersey so that everyone else could know you like me.”

You could feel the heat rise from your chest to your ears as you slipped your hands out from his to hold your textbook to your chest, as if it would cool you down. You fiddled with the spine of the textbook as a distraction as Kuroo smiled back innocently at you to give you time to compose yourself.

“ D-Don’t say things like that, you’re my friend and that’s all,” You stammered as you slapped his shoulder to make the tension less thick,” and wipe that grin off your face, you look like an idiot!”

Kuroo laughed, easing whatever tension was left in the air as he bumped your shoulder with his, “ Fine, fine, I’ll stop but only because you’re my special friend.”

“ You’re the worst.”

“ And you love it.”

“ Are you sure we’re doing this right?” You asked Kuroo as he sprinkled in the powdered moonstone while you stirred the concoction slowly.

You surveyed the room as you watched your fellow classmates fail miserably at the assignment at hand, some being greeted with thick clouds of smoke while others potions just combusted into flames.

You flinched at the sound of shrieking and looked up to see Sugawara and Daichi backing away from their cauldron as a mass of black tar started to slither out towards them. Slughorn had warned everyone that this potion was tricky to master but you didn’t think it would be this difficult and as time passed, the more anxious you grew.

Kuroo, as unbothered as ever, looked down at the instructions for a moment before turning his attention back at the cauldron,” Yep, triple checked it and everything. You sure are nervous today.”

“ I’m always nervous during this class, you know I’m awful at potions. Plus look what happened to Oikawa, he’s in the hospital wing because of this lab.”

“ He’ll be fine, the flames weren’t too high, he probably just lost an eyebrow,” Kuroo teased, trying to keep your mind at bay,” are you sure you’re not nervous because we’re concocting Amorentia?”

You continued to stir the mixture carefully as you only scoffed,” Why would I be nervous of a silly little love potion?”

“ First off, Amorentia is one of the most powerful love potions in existence so show some respect,” Kuroo said as you only rolled your eyes back at him,” And second of all, maybe you’re nervous because this will finally prove that you have feelings for me.”

“ Knock it off before I send you to the hospital wing nerd,” You replied hastily as Kuroo put his hands up in defense,” Are you sure you’re not the nervous one? You’ve been acting weird since class has started...like more mouthy than usual.”

If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve gone the whole lesson completely oblivious to Kuroo’s nervous tics, but after years of being friends, you knew better than to pass them off as normal tendencies.

Kuroo rubbed the corner of the textbook page between his fingers as his eyes read the directions over again to try and ground himself in his thoughts. He had re-read the same step of the last instruction for the past couple of minutes to look occupied but his facade was starting to fall apart.

“ If you paid more attention to the assignment instead of me, maybe you would pass the class, huh?” Kuroo smirked to try and ease your mind but the action only made you feel more annoyed.

“ Enough with this back and forth, are we almost done? You’ve been reading the last step for a while now, is it that hard or are you just stupid today?” You nudged Kuroo out of the way and bent your body over the table to read the last step, wanting nothing more than to get this class over with.

Kuroo watched as you began to stir the concoction slowly, his eyes trained on the top of the cauldron to watch for any sign of steam.

“ What color are the spirals supposed to be?” You asked as a dark, pink-colored steam started to slowly rise from the mixture,” did he say pink was right or purple? Maybe red I don’t even remember.”

Kuroo carefully leaned closer beside you to get a better look at the steam,”Looks right to me. You smell anything?”

“ The only thing I can smell is that god awful aftershave of yours so back up.”

You leaned your forearms on the table and took in a deep breath of the potion. Almost instantly, you felt a comforting warmth spread throughout your body that started in your chest and moved all the way down to your head and toes. You felt your body completely relax and it felt almost similar to the feeling of submerging yourself into a hot bath after a long day.

It would make absolutely no sense to describe the scents as something so oddly familiar and distinct while not being obvious at all yet that was where your headspace was as you tried to identify the scents.

Almost immediately, once you pinpointed one scent, the rest came flooding in one after another,” I smell something like cinder-a burning logfire...and....I know what this is it’s kinda like- oh, broomstick polish!”

You took into another deep breath to try and identify the last scent but you couldn’t put a name to the scent which only made you more frustrated.

“ Kuroo, can you help me? I can’t figure out the last scent,” You sighed as Kuroo closed his eyes to take a turn, even though he could already pinpoint a few scents from his spot,” do you smell the logfire too?”

Kuroo only smiled to himself as he felt the warmth spread across his body before shaking his head,” That’s not how it works. Our scents would be different for example, I smell…freshly clean linen, old parchment paper, and… butterbeer froth.”

Once the words left Kuroo’s mouth, he opened his eyes and turned to you to read your reaction. He looked for something, anything behind those eyes of yours to watch it all click in your head but as usual, you were completely oblivious to the huge hint he had given you.

“ Lucky you, I wish I could smell what you can- this is harder than I thought,” You pouted as you noticed some of your other classmates were getting distracted by you and Kuroo’s Amortentia,” maybe we did this wrong.”

“ We did it right, don’t worry,” Kuroo cleared his throat as he gave you a nudge with his shoulder which only made you nudge him back even harder,” maybe you should try again, think really hard. Try to see where you recognize the scent instead of what it is.”

You closed your eyes and just like before, the same warm sensation flooded your body but this time, you could feel yourself leaning closer and closer to the cauldron, almost as if the potion was pulling you in deeper.

“ Burning logfire, broomstick polish and…” You took in another deep breath but you were only meet with more frustration,” for the last time, can you give me some space, Kuroo? I swear all I can smell is your-.”

You opened your eyes and practically pulled yourself away from the table once an unsettling realization had started to develop quickly in your mind. You knew exactly what the scent was but there was that lingering sensation in your mind that still tried to convince itself that for once, maybe you were wrong.

Kuroo let out a breathy laugh as the back of your neck and ears began to grow hot,” Something the matter-”

Without thinking, you grabbed Kuroo’s collar and pulled him down to your eye level. Kuroo’s face started to grow red as you brushed your nose against the side of his neck to get a better smell. You had to be going crazy, there was no way- it all had to be a trick.

“ Are you sure we did this right? You’re absolutely positive?” You asked softly as you let go of his collar.

Kuroo smoothed out his collar and nodded as he looked back at the cauldron,”I’m absolutely positive- why are you freaking out?”

Because I smell your stupid vanilla aftershave.

“ I’m not freaking out,” You lied through your teeth as you turned your attention to Slughorn as he dismissed the class for the day,” You know what, I’m actually not feeling well- Can you clean up for me? I’m feeling a little lightheaded.”

“Y/N-”

“ I’ll see you around,” You gathered your things quickly but as you reached for your potions book, Kuroo snatched it off the table and held it behind his back,”enough Kuroo, give it back.”

“ Clean linen, parchment, and butterbeer froth,” Kuroo listed as you tried to grab your book from behind his back but Kuroo was quick to hold it above his head,”did you hear me?”

You looked up at how high he was holding your textbook and as embarrassing as it was, you decided to hold on to the little dignity you had left and not jump up and down for it.

“ Yes I heard you but I don’t care.”

“ You do care and you’re not listening to me. I smelled clean linen, parchment paper, and butterbeer froth so now it’s your turn, what did you smell?” Kuroo asked, this time a bit louder. It was obvious in the way he was enunciating his words that he was trying to lead you down a certain conversation but you were slow to pick up on it.

You didn’t want to tell him, all you wanted to do was go back to bed and pretend as though this day had never happened. The idea that all this time you actually had real feelings for Kuroo only made you feel flustered.

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of liking someone like him but for years, you had convinced him and seemingly everyone else that you would never have feelings for Kuroo. In reality, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“ Do we have to do this right now?” You asked softly as you nodded over to Slughorn who was dusting the corners of his desk but it was obvious he was eavesdropping on the conversation.

Without missing a beat, Kuroo nodded and lowered your textbook back down to hand it to you.

“ You’re right, we should discuss this someplace quiet and private, how does dinner sound?”

You shook your head at the boy as you tried to grab your textbook from him but you couldn’t pry it off his strong grip,“ Quit flirting with me, now isn’t the time.”

Kuroo couldn’t take it anymore; the years of endlessly flirting and being ignored was taking a toll on his pride and he couldn’t stand it. He knew you were prideful but this was on a whole different level.

“ Now is the perfect time since now I know you like me after all.”

“ How- I do not-”

“ You’re a terrible liar Y/N, the aftershave was a dead giveaway and I don’t know whether or not I’m more hurt by the fact that you’re too embarrassed to admit you like me or that you think my aftershave is god awful,” Kuroo said as he loosened his grip on the book so you could take it from his hands,” aren’t you tired of pretending you don’t have feelings for me?”

You carefully took back your textbook as if it was a fragile vase and held it close to your chest as if you were shielding your heart.

“ For the record, I don’t think it’s god awful, I just think you put on way too much,” You mumbled as Kuroo stood up straighter,” and I’m not tired of pretending, maybe I don’t like you or maybe I do have feelings for you.”

“ But maybe you like me more than you dislike me, am I right?”

You opened your mouth but quickly closed it after thinking his words over for a moment,“Emphasis on maybe...but don’t let it get to your head. You get one date so don’t ruin it.”

Even though it wasn’t the confession Kuroo wanted, it was the only confirmation he needed to hear from you to let him know that the feelings were mutual.

Kuroo couldn’t help but wear a huge goofy smile on his face as he collected his things and followed your lead as you both started to walk out the classroom. You and Kuroo politely nodded and said goodbye to Slughorn, who was pretending to read the textbooks along the shelves.

Once you two left the classroom, Kuroo’s hand slide down beside yours and started to play with your fingers carefully. Your hand recoiled from the feeling but once you made sure the hallway was clear of any onlookers, you let your hand slide back down and let his fingers intertwine with yours.

“ You know, I knew you really liked me, I called it since day one-”

“ Okay, that’s enough Kuroo.”

“ You said and I quote,’As if I would be under the accompaniment of a clumsy Ravenclaw like yourself’ and look at you now, holding hands with one!”

You shook your head at him and wondered to yourself if this is how things would be now yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to hide the small smile on your face,”You’re the worst.”

Kuroo squeezed your hand in his and shared the same lovey-dovey grin on his face,” and you love it.”

taglist: @goopyartiste, @sugas-sweetheart, @kirislut, @estridries, @hannahalanib1, @art0saurus, @shoutamajiki, @yee-harr, @animatedarchives

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu hogwarts au #haikyuu hogwarts #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo scenario #nekoma x reader #nekoma hogwarts #kuroo headcanon #kuroo imagine #kuroo tetsuro headcanon #kuroo tetsuro scenario #tetsuro kuroo x reader #tetsuro kuroo scenario #tetsuro kuroo headcanon

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mxpseudonym · 4 years ago

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Indulgent

Pairing: Michael x Fem!Reader

Summary: Michael is your father’s easy to tease business parter and you are one lucky bitch. In which Michael Gray is an ass man and a thigh man who gets lost in the wap.

Length: 2153 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Spicy, Smut, Oral Sex, Michael is a little punk as usual

A/N: Michael won the spicy scenario contest! This was v fun to write and honestly, we love a cocky yet generous lover on this blog. Shout out to all my thick thigh thirsty bishes.

"Are those new?" Michael asked, only shifting his eyes from the documents he was signing for a moment. You lifted your leg, showing off your new french stockings to your father's business partner. Bringing Shelby Company Ltd documents to be signed by Michael Gray himself was the only errand of your father's that you volunteered to help with. The ever serious, young businessman was easy on the eyes and easy to rile up- your two favorite things.

"They are, Mr. Gray. I'm surprised you noticed. I didn't think country boys cared about such things, even when they become handsome company men."

You couldn't help it. Calling Michael a "country boy" was your favorite jab as it was the one where he gave you an annoyed glare, much like he was now. He ignored you, however, and returned your documents to their folder.

"Of course, I noticed. And did you buy them yourself?"

"I did. I buy all of my lingerie."

You smiled cheekily as you stood. You headed towards the door, documents in hand, when Michael stopped you by gripping your wrist. You turned and felt your back hit the wall next to the door when he took a step closer.

"Are you wearing it now?"

Though you'd been hoping for this moment, you still felt the heat warm your cheeks at such a question. Micheal's hand reached up, his knuckles brushing against your stomach and dragging the fabric against your skin. "Is there more under this?"

"Yes," you finally answered softly.

"Can I see it? Please?"

As Michael scrunched up the fabric of your beaded dress, you thought about how devious he sounded whenever he used polite words. You'd be better off if he'd just commanded it. Michael pulled your dress up until it was above you bralette, and you shifted under his gaze. He let out a soft grunt and reached up.

Your breath hitched in anticipation, ready for his touch. Instead, you heard the click of the lock next to you. It wasn't necessary. You strategically came after hours, and the office was empty. If anything, it was a signal to you for what was about to come.

"Hold this."

It took a moment before you realized he wanted you to stand here, back pressed against the wall of his office, holding your skirt by the hem, so a man you hadn't even had dinner with had his way with you. Who were you to disobey?

Michael kneeled before you, still eyeing you with a look of satisfaction and renewed hunger. He found your waist, caressing up to your ribs then down to grasp your fleshy backside covered in silky, lacey delicates.

If his touch hadn't already set your face aflame, the eager moan that left you at the feeling of Michael's unforgiving groping would have done it.

He swore under his breath before leaning in and pressing his lips against your stomach. His hands slid from your backside down to massage your thighs as he placed open-mouthed kisses against your tummy. Every so often, he'd bite down, quick to cover the teeth marks with a hot, soothing tongue before you could complain.

You'd slept with a few people before, but this was a different kind of act. Were you always this sensitive? Or perhaps it was the way Michael seemed to be trying to consume. Your new stockings were a bit tight on the lining, and the garters pressed into the meat of your thigh as you were still getting used to adjusting the clasps. The combination made the pudge of your thighs spill over in a way you weren't sure about, but Michael couldn't get enough of.

His nimble fingers played with the hems of your stockings, dipping under them almost absentmindedly before letting the material snap. His fingers slipped under the straps of your garter as well, teasing you further until he moved from your stomach, now littered in love bites, to lean down and bite at your thighs. You could feel the hot dampness of his tongue through your stockings for only a moment before he moved on.

"Michael," you gasped loudly when he shamelessly pressed a kiss to your mound through the fabric. He paused. You thought you'd upset him, but after a moment, you felt a soft vibration against your hips. He was... laughing.

Michael looked up at you through his eyelashes, and you almost gasped at how boyish he looked in that moment, the first time he'd looked straight into your eyes since moving down your body.

"Y/n, you can take more, can't you? I even haven't done anything yet."

There's a wicked smugness about his words that left you pouting. "Stop that." He gives the order seriously, and you take your bottom lip between your teeth instead. "Good girl."

Your fingers clenched around the hem that was now anchored at your bust. Everything Michael was saying went straight to your core. Though he was teasing, you hoped Michael was right about you being able to take more.

His unspoken statement of "are you this wanton already" was apparent. He'd hardly started, and you were already trembling and so close to the edge. It wasn't your fault, you decided. He was the one who was as calculated as ever, even in the way he unclasped your garters to tug your shorts down your legs.

"Can you multitask?" He asked, arrogant as ever. You nearly slammed your legs closed around his stupid face. However, he reached up and pulled down one of your hands, guiding it to hold up your leg by the back of your knee. Your back pressed harder against the wall as you adjusted to your new balancing act.

Gingerly, Michael leaned forward and kissed your aching pussy, making your breath hitch. He leaned back and looked up at you, the glint of his lips apparent even before he slowly licked his lips. You said his name weakly, meaning to scold him for being vulgar. He pushed all of your words away, however.

"You're so wet."

He was leaning in again, and you could only tilt your head back in delight but also disbelief that this was even happening as Michael indulged.

Indulgence was the perfect word for it. Michael wasn't one to rush, but he'd never waste time. His nosed skimmed the soft hair on your mound as he nudged your clit. Michael moaned when his tongue laved over the length of you. He was eating you well. He was eating you for fun.

You hadn't thought about staying quiet due to your whereabouts, and you were glad for it seeing as you would have failed. Your cries filled the air of the office, making both of you even hotter. Michael dipped between your folds, prodding your entrance with a stiff tongue and making you a bit dizzy as the heat that had rushed to your face ran between your legs.

Michael, for a moment, took inventory of the situation without stopping his efforts. Maybe something was off if he had this good of a time, not that that would have hindered him. Your thighs were warm around him, you were positively trembling, and making you cum as a way to shut you up was becoming addictive. He can hardly keep up with your bucking hips as you cum from his tongue, circling your sensitive bud. As you panted, you could feel Michael's breath against your still twitching cunt as he spoke into it, almost to himself.

"Mm, you taste sweet. Dripping too."

Though this wasn't planned, there was a natural flow to these things. Michael had fully expected to be inside of you by now. But you looked enticing in your lingerie, and your skin was so soft he couldn't help but kiss the inside of your thighs. And you were whining for more? He could feel himself bulging against his pants, and yet he couldn't stop himself from diving back in. He needed more.

He fired you from the job of holding your leg up and threw it over his shoulder instead. Your hand clenched his hair, earning a deep groan from the man beneath you. Your hips rocked against his mouth, and he quickly matched your rhythm, never letting you escape from the pleasure you instinctively felt was too much.

"Ah, Micheal, please," you panted. A sudden pinch to your backside made you jump and look down at him with wide eyes.

"I said hold it," he said, face glossy with you. You realized only then that you'd dropped your dress, and it was disrupting his progress.

"S-sorry, Mr. Gray"

"If you can't hold it, bite it for Christ's sake," he said, dismissive as ever. And yet, the was a glint in his eye from you saying his name that way made you realize it was a new command. Michael looked you over, your eyes teary from your dress now stuffed in your mouth like a gag and a muffled whimper coming from you when he hungrily licked his smirking lips.

Seeing you like this was more than he could ask for. Your cries were muffled but no longer held back. He looped an arm under your leg, keeping your hips still with a firm hand. The least he could do was release anything holding him back as well.

You came again from his mouth alone, and yet you felt a stiff finger slide into you before you were even sure your waves of pleasure had subsided. Michael's tongue flattened against your bud, and your head fell back, eyes clenched shut. Having something to clench around was more than satisfying.

"Can I have you like this all the time, love?" Michael asked, watching your face as he added a second finger with ease. Your whimper at the initial feeling turned into a loud moan when he curled them inside of you. "Maybe not, though. You can barely keep it together. You should see yourself right now, y/n."

"Mm!" Even if you weren't gagged, you still would have had trouble calling his name. Every thought left your head. Only the chase of more releases and the sound of Michael's voice remained.

"Can't help that you're addicting, y/n. I did want to have you over the couch or something, but that'll have to wait. I want to tire you out just like this. You're a tight little thing too. Squeezing the life out of me, just from a couple of fingers."

He chuckled, and the familiar embarrassment that also made you more aroused shot through you. He pressed deep into you and massaged your walls, pushing you off the edge once again. He let you pull his hair with both hands, only groaning as his head tilted back from the force.

Even like this, he didn't stop. Instead, he used the added wetness to add a finger.

"Sorry, I'm greedy. Can I have one more, y/n? Just one more okay?" He said it so casually you'd think he was saying one more cigarette or one more pint. He pulled the dress from your mouth, revealing the ache in your jaw that you couldn't be bothered with yet.

"I want to hear you."

He pressed a hand against your stomach, holding the dress and your hips still as he leaned him and attacked your clit once more. The tightening coil in your lower belly was almost overwhelming now.

"Oh god, too much, too deep,"

"Hm? You're not making sense, love," Michael said just as he began a steady pace of pressing the sweet spot deep in you. "It's too much?" You only responded with your eyes rolling back as you shivered. "You're this worked up from my fingers. How do you think you'll be when I actually get inside of you?"

The thought itself made your walls flutter around him. Your body tensed and released as you cried out. Michael continued until you were calmed, merely whimpering. He freed you, and you slowly found yourself panting on your knees.

Through hooded eyes, you watched Michael lick your cum from his fingers. How did this country boy end up this way? He pulled his handkerchief out and cleaned his hands, then his face.

"Sorry, you didn't get a taste, love. Here."

Michael let you slump forward into his arms, wrapping you in his warmth before kissing you. His tongue pressed past your lips before you could even think to stop it. As he intended, you could taste yourself all over him.

Something stirred in you, but you were too spent at the moment to do much more than getting drunk off of this sinful kiss. Michael kissed you fervently until finally, they came soft and lazy. When he pulled away, he cupped your cheek.

"That was good," you finally said. You leaned against Michael's chest and closed your eyes, allowing a small smile to grace your lips. "For a country boy."

#Michael is Michael #Shout out to my thick thigh hoes #Micheal Gray #Micheal Gray Fanfiction #Micheal Gray Smut #Micheal Gray Imagine #Micheal Gray x Reader #Peaky Blinders fanfiction #Peaky Blinders Imagine #Peaky Blinders smut

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wings-of-a-storm · 4 years ago

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Alrighty lovely peeps, here is the final part of my thoughts on Victor’s infamous ‘love-triangle’ journey in episodes 9-10 (and why the undercurrent is full of Benji).

MOURNING A LIFE WITH A LOVER ALMOST LOST: HURT AND ANGER

Our first understanding of how Victor is holding up in episode ten is through the visual of the wedding invitation he is holding. It’s a very strong visual with so many connotations -- weddings are romantic, full of love and celebration, and most importantly a lifelong commitment to a loved one. That is Victor’s dream too and one he was working hard on (not necessarily a marriage but certainly a life-long commitment). But the person he wants to work on that commitment with isn’t talking to him and quite likely easing them into a separation.

What is even more of a mockery is the envelope -- Victor and Benji’s names are printed together in gorgeous cursive, like they are a team, a unit, a done deal. It’s almost like how their own wedding invitation might look, if they ever wanted to have one. But it is a dream that only exists on a piece of paper right now.

It is clear in this scene that Victor is feeling a mix of three things: sad, hurt, and anger. The anger is quite clear when he puts the invitation aside with the shake of his head. He’s angry that Benji ditched the wedding commitment last minute, yes, but no doubt a lot of that anger is born from how hurt he is that Benji is seemingly giving up on them. A glance at his unanswered message to Simon where he says something similar confirms it.

This anger is channeled into a practical matter -- the etiquette faux pas of being a last-minute wedding guest now messing up catering. Victor needs to find a substitute plus one (which to be honest feels like a plot device but shh). Enter Rahim, sans Pilal. Once again, Rahim is a welcome friend that Victor knows he will have fun with, be comfortable around, and more importantly experience a nice distraction with again.

Fast-forward to the next key scene, for me: Victor’s fascinating response to hearing Harold’s and Veronica’s wedding vows. Which brings me to:

VICTOR’S DESPERATION FOR SOMEONE TO LOVE HIM ENOUGH TO FIGHT / BUILDING A SAFETY NET P2

Guess what themes happen to be in the wedding vows Victor hears? A) Fighting for a relationship you love. B) Not giving up on someone in the tough moments.

“I know there will be tough days but it's on those days that I vow to love you the hardest” / “I vow to always remember that we are worth fighting for. Forever. No matter what.”

Gee, what an extraordinary coincidence!

And what does Victor do in response to hearing a loving couple voice his own feelings and goals? He looks at Rahim. Or rather, to Rahim. He knows Rahim is a romantic (like himself and Benji are), so he knows Rahim would share those goals too. And Rahim certainly is transfixed by the vows, very much feeling their sentiments too.

Rahim just ticked a box Victor is currently desperate for: someone who looks like they value fighting to beat the odds for the person they love, unlike what Benji is seemingly doing. Victor can project that onto Rahim. In reality, there is no way of knowing what Rahim would actually do in a relationship, but he feels safe right now.

It rather feels like VIctor was trying to distance himself from Benji in that moment and find a sanctuary with someone else who would give him the love and commitment he really needs right now. Like a protective, defense mechanism. He is so terrified that Benji has reached his limit of fight; that this time their argument and Victor’s breach of trust pushed Benji too far and Victor will end up severed from him and alone. With each hour Victor is closer to processing the end of that relationship and is now trying to put up a shield to block the impending tsunami of pain that he really doesn’t want to be hit by.

BENJI MAKES HIS OWN VOW

Victor doesn’t know it yet but we, the audience, get a hint of good news: the romantic vow exchange cuts to Benji staring at a picture of Victor on instagram, clearly missing him. From that piece of storytelling timing, we know what that probably means… (Flashback please to Benji’s declaration of “I don’t think I could give up on you. Even if I wanted to.”)

Benji is fighting. Or trying to.

What seals the deal is the beautiful conversation Isabel has with him -- her promise that Victor adores him and that Victor did actually stand up for Benji to the point of impressing her with his moxy. For a lot of the season, that is so much of what Benji needed -- to know he was worth standing up for, fighting for. Gee, what a familiar theme…

The next time we see Benji, he has come to the wedding reception, after his shift, as Victor’s belated plus one. His appearance symbolizes a promise, a vow of his own that is yet to be said out loud: that he is committed to fighting for their relationship to work.

I found that a really nice piece of storytelling -- that Benji is linked to the wedding vows at Brasstown and then fulfils them (or at least will try to make the sentiment a reality as best he can).

VICTOR’S CROSSROAD

Unfortunately for Benji, Victor does feel a connection with Rahim. New friendship is exciting and thrilling on its own let alone having the opportunity to suddenly slow dance with that person. Lines can get blurred. Plus the atmosphere is completely romantic and Victor has never had the opportunity to experience this particular romantic act before.

Victor and Rahim spend quite some time staring deep into each other’s eyes without even saying a word to interrupt the Moment. Because it is a legitimate moment of intimacy between the two. Which is exactly why Victor doesn’t stop immediately and run straight to Benji as soon as he notices Benji has come to see him. His head is still half in the Moment and it is tricky to extricate himself from Rahim.

That Moment is also why Victor doesn’t keep chasing Benji through the yard after Benji sasses him with his ‘Sure, Jan’ energy after Victor insists Rahim is just a friend.

Consciously Victor thinks he is telling the truth, but his “That was crazy, I’m not allowed to have a friend?” defense had the same energy as S1 Benji’s “I know I didn’t do anything wrong when you kissed me!” before scuttling his ass out of Brasstown with all of his belongings. Hello guilt.

The question is how much is Rahim a friend-cum-something-more. Which is the crossroad Victor finds himself at when Rahim confesses his feelings and kisses him.

We have Rahim who confessed so sweetly and endearingly, who at this moment is comfort and warmth and safety because Rahim isn't going to break up with Victor any time soon. And whom Victor does feel a connection with.

And we have Victor’s relationship with Benji which feels like a dying ember, especially now that Benji is even more furious at Victor and it will be a very hard battle to win him back around again. It won't be a romantic running into each other's arms moment if they were to reunite…

So Victor has a dilemma to figure out now in Mia’s room: does he fight a very hard uphill battle with Benji to win him over (a fight filled with inevitable painful emotions being unleashed), or does he just let it go since that appears to be the trajectory for them... Or does he try exploring things with Rahim where there is a 100% success rate guaranteed in the short-term if he accepts Rahim’s declaration…

If the big theme of this episode is vowing to love someone on their tough days and committing yourself to a relationship worth fighting for (something Victor had been obsessing over even before he heard the wedding vows), it would feel like a strange conclusion for Victor to choose Rahim over the partner who proved he was mutually willing to fight for their relationship against the odds, especially when they have already been tested through tough times and found their way through. (And of course Felix’s visualisation exercise would have reminded Victor of all the qualities he loves about Benji...)

THE WINK OF VICTOR’S PARENTS’ PARALLEL

And finally we have the culmination of an underlying parallel: Victor's parents’ relationship, which also slips into the theme of those wedding vows.

Isabel and Armando, the high school sweethearts who were stuck in a cycle of fighting, fore-sake choosing a new partner with less baggage and instead make the choice to get back together. This doesn’t influence Victor’s decision because he doesn't know about his parents’ progress yet but we, the audience, do know. We can see the underlying parallel there. They are making it work, so so too can Victor and Benji if they keep putting the work in to understand each other better and learn how to communicate.

But that’s just my take on ep 10.

#Love Victor #LV appreciation post #Venji #I promise to never write anything this long again XD #LV S2 analysis

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jingabitch · 5 years ago

Text

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell - final

SUMMARY: when you were ten, taehyung adopted you and gave you a home. now that you’re eighteen, the sudden change in your scent perplexes and confounds him.

PAIRING: wolf hybrid!tae x human!reader (all bts members are hybrids)

WORD COUNT: 20.5k (lmfao)

RATING: explicit

A/N: yay this massive fic is finally done!! when i first started this i thought it would be like a 15k oneshot and now it’s a g i a n t. thank you to everyone who read this, left lovely comments and feedback, and cheered me on! not quite sure what i’m going to work on next, but nevertheless I hope to have your support for future projects too. :)

also, shoutout to my wonderful betas @knjkitten and @xoxrinaxox for going over this for me! yall are the greatest 💕

btw the last part of this isn’t betaed because google docs sucks and doesn’t sync reliably most of the time lmao. i’ll work on finding a better solution but in the meantime i hope there aren’t glaring mistakes.

series index

“The only recorded cases where a hybrid was able to move on from an imprint… is when the object of the imprint passed away.”

When the object of the imprint passed away.

You blinked at Namjoon in shock, unsure how to react. You certainly hadn’t been expecting such an extreme solution, and you hesitated audibly.

“Not that I’m suggesting that, of course,” he hastily reassured you. You nodded slowly, your mind still playing catch up. “We’ll figure out another way to manage it, all right? Don’t do anything crazy.”

“Okay.” You agreed, nodding robotically. It felt like your mind had short-circuited when he said that. You didn’t want to die. After all that had happened to you, you just wanted to live normally, safe and secure in your home.

Still, you couldn’t stop thinking about what Namjoon had said. Spring turned to summer, and then to fall, and it almost seemed as though you could forget about it entirely. Things were going well at home – you and Taehyung had settled into a new routine that was, if not ideal, comfortable enough, and you thought that he was coping fairly well with the imprint.

Now that everything was out in the open, it felt like an oppressive air had been lifted from the apartment. You understood now why Taehyung had done that to you, and while you still weren’t thrilled, at least you knew why. He was relentless in his attempts to show you his remorse, too, doting over you almost obsessively.

Gradually, you eased up around him, too. He was always respectful of your need for space. After the first night where you stayed in his room, you’d returned to your own room to think about how you wanted to proceed. All his cards were on the table now, and it was only fair that you figure yourself out. You still weren’t really comfortable being as close to him physically as you’d been before, and you were definitely leery of any sexual contact, both because of your traumatic experiences on the street as well as because of what Taehyung had done.

He handled your attempts to put more distance between the two of you with grace. You didn’t quite know whether he’d hoped to pick up where you’d left off, but you weren’t ready or willing to do that, and he didn’t push. That wasn’t to say that you weren’t acutely aware of the way his eyes would follow you around sometimes, almost predatorily, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Sometimes you could hear him sigh when you went into your own bedroom at night instead of his.

Still, he never made a move, and you understood probably better than anyone else that having an urge and acting on it were two different things. He couldn’t help the way he looked at you, wanted you, but he held it in as best he could to avoid making you uncomfortable. You saw, and you appreciated his effort. Even though he probably didn’t see it, you were trying too, to move past everything that had happened.

For Taehyung, though, this was like purgatory. Having you so close, just out of reach, unable to touch you, was driving him insane. It hadn’t been so bad at first, because his wolf could sense the sour notes of your fear and reacted accordingly, wanting to provide for you and comfort you. It was difficult maintaining his distance even then, of course, since his instincts demanded that he wrap himself around you to keep you warm and protect you from any threats. His wolf had never been the smartest, of course, failing to realize that it was Taehyung who was the threat.

As you started to ease up around him, though, was when the trouble truly began. When you looked at him and smiled, or didn’t flinch away when he accidentally touched you… every sign that you were finally starting to let your guard down around him, no matter how insignificant it seemed, was a win for Taehyung. He celebrated internally every time he noted a milestone, charting your progress silently. The unpleasant scent of your discomfort was slowly replaced by your natural, happy, fruity scent, the one his wolf found so alluring. Which, of course, meant that he was having a hard time keeping his instincts at bay.

If this was what the rest of his life was going to be like, it was going to be torture. He could handle it, though. He was determined to, for your sake – he would grit his teeth and bear anything you threw at him. He would not, under any circumstances, let his imprint ruin his relationship with you more than it already had.

---------------------------

Last year, when you were still happy and carefree, you’d noticed immediately when Taehyung went into pre-heat. It had been clear as day to you when you were attuned to him and paying attention – the increased neediness, the voracious appetite, how moody he had been. You’d broken up so many silly arguments between him and the boys, picked purely because Taehyung was in a bad mood.

This year, however, was different. Even though you’d started getting better with time, and Taehyung’s conscientious, careful treatment of you, it was clear you were still affected by your time on the streets. You sometimes avoided Taehyung’s gaze, ate as quickly as you could because you still remembered what it was like to be hungry, and slipped away from the table as soon as you were done with your meal. It was still difficult for you to sit quietly with Taehyung, since it required a level of comfort with him that you hadn’t managed to get back.

Even when you were with him, you were hunched over on yourself, cautious, trying not to do or say anything to anger him. Even though he’d explained why he’d kicked you out and took pains to assure you that it would never happen again, you couldn’t forget the memory of him grabbing your arm and dragging you out of his apartment, throwing you out like garbage. It made sitting with him a far more difficult and uncomfortable endeavor than it had been in the past.

When Taehyung started going into preheat, the boys were on tour, which meant you were too. It was an East Asian tour – a short one, just six weeks, kind of a warm up before the global tour that was going to start next spring. The tour had been, to say the least, stressful. Before, they’d been great fun. Who wouldn’t love the opportunity to travel around the world, getting to eat different things and be spoiled by the boys and their entire crew? While everyone had to work, your life had basically been one giant vacation.

Now, though, things were different. As awkward as you felt around Taehyung, you’d had to act normally in front of all the cameras that were perennially trained on you. That meant giggling, smiling, cuddling up to all the boys, especially Taehyung, and never letting your guard down. Because of the boys’ social media presence, even the hotel rooms weren’t always safe, and it had been exhausting.

Taehyung was equally stressed out, trying to act nonchalant in front of the cameras when you clung onto him and plopped yourself into his lap for cuddles every day the way you used to. He quickly became an expert at shifting you around to avoid making you uncomfortable when his body reacted instinctively, and on not overreacting to your proximity. No stiffening (ha), no sharp inhales, or wide eyes, or anything else that would tip off the fans, who were basically detectives.

Knowing his heat was coming didn’t make dealing with the symptoms of it as it approached easier. This was already shaping up to be the worst heat he’d ever had, and it hadn’t even started yet. His increased sensitivity to scent made it all the more difficult to pretend like he wasn’t affected by you, and as the tour dragged on (and his preheat symptoms intensified) he could also see you withdrawing, the stress of pretending like everything okay evidently too much for you.

When the tour finally ended and you were back at your apartment, you immediately made a beeline for your bedroom and shut the door after you, desperate for time to yourself after spending weeks on end surrounded by the boys. Humans didn’t get their own hotel rooms, after all. It just wasn’t in the budget.

You’d think that spending so much time basically glued to his side would have made it easy for you to realise that he was going into heat, but that wasn’t the case at all. The more time you spent without a break with him and everyone in the crew having to keep up the act, the more it took out of you, until you were barely able to take in anything from being so stressed out all the time. Being so occupied with controlling your own reactions to being so close to Taehyung meant that all your attention was focused on yourself, instead of on your surroundings, and the fact that he was acting weird barely blipped on your radar.

Taehyung looked sadly at the closed door separating the two of you and sighed. Even though things had slowly started to improve, you were still clearly holding yourself away from him, and as much as he understood why and wanted to respect your need for space, his impending heat was making things difficult, bringing his animal side to the forefront and making it harder for him to resist his impulses.

As embarrassing as it was, he steeled himself to have an awkward conversation with you about it tomorrow morning. It was, somewhat surprisingly, the first time he’d ever had to tell you that he was going into heat. In the earlier years that you’d been his pet, all the boys had worked together to keep you from being too exposed to that aspect of their unique biology, and the only difference you noted during his heat was that Taehyung spent a lot of time shut in his own room while the other boys took turns playing with you.

Later on, you figured out fairly quickly what was up, and cottoned on to the symptoms that his heat was approaching easily. By the time you were fifteen, you had established a comfortable pattern and he’d never had to explain to you in words that his heat was coming – you just always knew, based on how differently he acted and the time of year.

It was almost tempting to go back to the way they’d dealt with his heats when you were a child – pawning you off onto his brothers and struggling through it alone without having to have an overly intimate conversation was probably the last painful option. In light of last year’s disastrous heat, though, he figured it was only fair that he let you know what was going on.

He scrubbed his hands down his face with a groan. Why had things gotten so complicated? All he’d wanted had been some companionship, and now there was this huge problem staring the both of you in the face that no one had asked for. Not for the first time since finding out about the imprint, he wished that he hadn’t been born a hybrid.

-----------------------------------

You woke up in the morning in your own bed, relieved to be back in your own space after having to share a hotel room with Taehyung for six weeks straight. You hadn’t shared his bedroom since that night, months ago, when he told you everything, and he never pushed, a fact for which you were grateful.

Still, morning meant you had to get up and prepare breakfast, since Taehyung was all but useless until noon. Feeling rejuvenated from the best night of sleep you’d had in weeks, you pushed the covers away and headed for the bathroom. You’d established a new morning routine with Taehyung now that you weren’t sleeping in the same room anymore, that gave you a little more space in the mornings. You’d use the bathroom and prepare breakfast while he got ready, then he’d eat while you got ready.

Today, however, was different. You’d placed his breakfast on the counter and were going back to your room to get your clothes when Taehyung cleared his throat.

You stopped short right as you were about to round the counter and leave the kitchen, your eyes darting towards Taehyung. Had he made that noise on purpose or was he doing that stupid sleepy grunting thing he did when he didn’t feel like getting up?

He stared back at you, and you couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. Damn. So he’d made the noise on purpose then to get your attention, then.

“Y/n, I have to tell you something.”

That sounded serious. You moved back to where you were so that you were standing directly across the counter from him. “What is it?” you asked curiously.

Cue some more awkward throat-clearing and avoiding eye contact.

“Uhhh… you know it’s autumn now, right?” Taehyung started.

You raised your brow. “Uh, yes…?” Did he just want to talk to you about the weather? That seemed very unlike him, especially this early in the morning.

“So… winter is coming soon?”

“Yes… that is what autumn usually means.” You didn’t mean to get snippy with him, but his wishy-washy attitude was starting to grate on your nerves.

“Right, so, um… I’m going into heat…?” Taehyung mumbled his words directly into his plate, his shoulders hunched over as he cringed, not quite daring to look up and see your expression.

Your mind was racing, panic threatening to overwhelm you when you remembered what had happened during his last heat. You’d almost lost control then and let him have his way with you, and it was what had started this whole thing anyway. As you were freaking out, your heart rate picked up rapidly, and Taehyung could hear it even if he wasn’t looking at you.

“Hey, whoa, what’s happening?” Taehyung asked, holding his hands out placatingly. You took a deep breath and refocused on him.

“Are you okay?” his brow furrowed as he watched an array of emotions cross your face in quick succession.

“Yeah,” you said, though your voice was a little choked. “I’m fine. What do you want to do about your heat?” you asked, trying to calm your racing heart. Wild panic was definitely not the best way to go here.

Still eyeing you suspiciously, Taehyung told you, “Well, I’m sure Suga-hyung wouldn’t mind it if you stayed with him for a week or so…”

The suggestion was so unexpected that it completely wiped out your distress, replacing it with shock instead. You gaped at him, unable to find the words to ask him the question you wanted to ask.

Thankfully, despite everything that had happened between you Taehyung was still fairly good at reading you, and he hurried to reassure you. “Oh, don’t worry about all of that,” he said, referring to the imprint and the fact that during his last heat he’d basically gone feral for you. “I’m sure it won’t be too bad.”

You could see on his face though that even he didn’t believe his own words. Even though you appreciated his attempt to smile and muscle through it for you, you couldn’t help but remember how miserable and out of it he’d been during his last heat when you refused him, and your heart squeezed at the thought of him going through it again.

Seeing your clear doubt, Taehyung smiled at you, though it was a little strained and didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I- I’m not,” you immediately denied, your voice shaky and unconvincing.

“Okay,” Taehyung accepted easily, not believing you for a second. “Go get ready.”

You hesitated then. “Actually… I think I might stay home today.”

“Oh… okay,” Taehyung said, this time slightly dejectedly.

“I just started a new book,” you offered, a lame excuse to try and spare his feelings. He nodded, acknowledging your effort, but it was clear the conversation was over.

“Well… have a good day at work then,” you said, before escaping back into your room.

---------------------------------------

As much as you wished you could say you’d taken on the role of martyr quickly and decisively, the truth couldn’t be any more different. It took days of agonizing over the decision, days in which you stayed mostly alone in your room, pacing up and down despite Taehyung’s repeated pleas from right outside your door to come out and tell him what was bothering you.

You ignored him, knowing there was no way you could tell him. You didn’t know if Namjoon had told Taehyung about the rather radical solution that he’d found to the imprint, but you didn’t want to hear anything Taehyung said about it. The best case scenario would be that he told you insincerely that he didn’t want you to do anything rash, that he could live with it, even though you could see in his eyes and every fiber of his being that he just wanted to be free of the imprint. The worst-case scenario… you shuddered to think about it.

No, this was a decision you had to make alone.

On the one hand, you really didn’t want to die. After everything you’d already been through, why did you have to make the ultimate sacrifice for Taehyung? The injustice made you want to scream in anger at the sky, roll around and pound your fists against the ground. You’d never asked for any of this. All you’d ever wanted was to be a good pet, to love and be loved by your owner.

Then again – Taehyung hadn’t asked for any of it either. He’d gone into all of this with the same hopes as you, just wanting companionship and a cute pet. Instead he’d gotten arguably the short end of the stick, far more affected by the imprint than you were. After all he’d given you over the past nine years, was this the best way you could pay him back? By setting him free?

Even if you stayed alive, what kind of life would this be? Stuck in this uncomfortable situation without any way out, living indefinitely with Taehyung? It was torture for the both of you. Even though he tried to hide it, to show you a brave, unaffected face, and never made you feel bad about anything, you knew he was suffering. You could feel the way his eyes sometimes followed you around hungrily, even if he himself was unaware of the way he was looking at you. During the tour, whenever you’d glomp him in front of the cameras to play the role of an adoring pet human, you could feel him stiffen ever so slightly and hold his breath to avoid inhaling your scent. Was this really the way you wanted to spend the rest of your life, pretending to be a devoted and adorable pet when neither of you enjoyed it?

You’d never felt so trapped before. There were no other options for you – you were too old to be adopted again since everyone wanted babies, and in any case, you were sure Taehyung wouldn’t let you go. Having you somewhere in the world but away from him would be torturous for him given the nature of the imprint, and even in your darkest moments, when you resented him and wanted him to suffer the way you had and were continuing to, you wouldn’t wish that on him.

Why were your only options staying put or death? The unfairness of it all, the feeling that you’d been wronged by the universe, twisted your insides. You wanted to cry, but you’d cried so much over the past few days that your eyes hurt and you didn’t think you had any more tears in you.

The worst part was that you knew this was difficult for Taehyung too. He’d barely left the apartment in the days since his announcement, when he came back from the studio on the first day and found you in your room. Despite your best attempts to cry quietly, his keen hybrid ears picked up the sounds of your muffled sobs and sniffles and he’d been camped outside your bedroom door ever since, begging you to let him in, to tell him what was going on and let him help you.

His heartfelt pleas tore at your heart, and you found yourself sitting on the ground with your back against the door to be close to him even though you needed to be alone, in the same position you’d found yourself in almost a year ago – Taehyung begging to be let in, and you in tears as you refused, for his own good. The irony was not lost on you.

Ultimately, though, you knew the choice had always been clear. Between setting the both of you free and staying trapped in this purgatory, you’d always choose the former.

It didn’t make going through with it any easier, though. Even though you knew rationally that this was the best option, your instincts urged you to cling to life. You could always go back to the streets, hitch a ride out of Seoul and try to eke out an existence by yourself in the countryside. You knew how to grow fruits and vegetables from living with Taehyung’s parents, and you wouldn’t starve. As you lay in bed on what you’d decided would be the last night of your life, you allowed yourself the comfort of dreaming about what such a life might be like. One where you didn’t need to worry about where your next meal was going to come from, or pleasing someone else, where you could live independently, just you and your little garden.

You fell into a restless sleep that night, the tears you’d thought you didn’t have any more streaking your face.

-----------------------------------

When you opened your bedroom door the next morning, Taehyung, who’d been leaning against the door while he slept, fell backwards into your room. He jolted awake before he hit the floor and managed to catch himself, leaving you impressed, as always, with his superior hybrid reflexes.

“Good morning,” you murmured as he blinked up at you sluggishly.

“Y/n…” he said softly, his mind still foggy from sleep. “Good morning,” he replied reflexively.

“Did you stay out here all night?” you asked, squatting to bring your face closer to his.

He cleared his throat and nodded, and your heart squeezed from how cute he was when he’d just woken up. You wished you’d gotten to see more of it, and maybe in a different world, you’d have gotten a shot at a happy ending. Thinking about it too much kind of made you want to cry, so you started to stand up to go brush your teeth.

Quick as a dart, his hand snaked out to capture yours, and you looked down at him in surprise. He rarely initiated physical contact anymore, after learning about your trauma, but since he was still half-asleep, old habits came back to the surface. “What is it, Taehyung-oppa?” you asked, kneeling back down.

“I have to go to the studio today,” he rasped in his deep, early morning voice. You suppressed a shiver – as difficult as you found it to be around him sometimes, your body had never forgotten the initial attraction you’d had towards him a year ago, and when he was sleepy and pliant like this he almost seemed like a different person from the cruel man who’d forced you onto the streets.

“Okay,” you accepted easily. In truth, you didn’t understand why he was telling you this – you knew he had to go in. They were already preparing for the world tour next spring, and you were surprised that he’d spent the last two days camped outside your bedroom door when he should really be at work with the rest of the boys. “I’ll go get your breakfast ready,” you said, looking pointedly down at your hand still enveloped in his. He needed to let go if you were going to help him get ready.

“Wait,” he said, blinking the last of the sleep out of his eyes. Yesterday Namjoon had called him to ream him out for not turning up for practice for two days in a row, and even though he’d been understanding about the whole situation with you, knowing that Taehyung was always worried about you now, he’d still told Taehyung in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t just shirk his responsibilities to his bandmates and fans like he’d been doing for the past few days. Taehyung had wanted to stay home with you because you were so clearly upset about something, but he’d been neglecting his duties at work long enough.

“I- I know you’re upset about something,” Taehyung began haltingly. He didn’t know exactly what it was, since you’d refused to tell him, but since it had started right after he told you about his heat, he could pretty much guess that it was related to that. Approaching it, however, was difficult since he didn’t know how to go about it tactfully, especially in the mornings, since it took so damn long for him to get his act together. He really should have written this down last night.

“Y/n…” He stopped, swallowed, then started again. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

That caught your attention, and you froze, staring at him with wide eyes.

“I know you hate this imprint,” he choked out, and the words felt like sand leaving his mouth because of how difficult it was to express thoughts that went so directly against his instincts. “I don’t like it either, and I promise you that I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want to do, okay? You’re safe here.” Even though he meant well and was trying to reassure you, his admission that he didn’t want the imprint either made you all the more certain of your decision.

“I understand,” you said, reaching out to pet his ears soothingly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” he accepted. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Promise. Even if it’s about the imprint.” His gaze searched yours imploringly, like he didn’t quite know how to reassure you of his sincerity.

“I know,” you agreed. You really didn’t agree with that, but you’d say anything to get that hangdog expression off his face.

He stared at you for a couple more seconds, then let you go with a nod. “All right, then,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed as you fled to the bathroom.

You blinked back tears as you made his breakfast for the last time, feeling Taehyung’s gaze boring into the back of your head from where he sat at the counter waiting for you to finish. He was still worried about you, you knew, though he wouldn’t pry anymore since you’d shut him down. You both loved and hated him for that.

When you set his plate down in front of him, you tried not to look at him because you were barely keeping it together as it was. Then you realized that this was probably the last time you would have the opportunity to and swung your gaze from the countertop to his face, taking it all in greedily.

Taehyung was still looking at you, and when you looked back, your eyes met, which you were completely unprepared for. Your jaw dropped slightly in surprise as he stared intently at you, and in that moment, you felt stripped bare for him, like he was looking effortlessly into your soul. It was too much for you, and you averted your gaze out of embarrassment, hating how vulnerable he could make you feel. Before, you hadn’t minded it, had thought it was a sign of your affection and trust for each other, but after your security in this home had been stripped away, it just scared you.

“Do you want to come with me to the studio today?” Taehyung asked. He was still watching you with that unsettling, piercing gaze, and you shook your head without looking back at him.

“Are you sure, Y/n-ie?” Something was off, Taehyung could feel it, and his instincts were ordering him to keep you by his side. Imprinting wasn’t magic, but it meant he was always hyper-attuned to you. With his hybrid senses, he could hear the erratic beating of your heart, smell the salt of the tears you tried so hard to keep at bay, see the distress written clearly across your face. There was clearly something bothering you, and it killed him to know that he was the cause of it and that he’d ruined the trust between the two of you so much that you were too afraid to talk to him about it. He’d always been there for you, and the fact that you weren’t letting him in now cut him up inside.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile as you looked back at him.

His brow furrowed in concern. “Okay, I’ll call Namjoon and tell him that I can’t come in today either then.” He reached for his phone, sitting next to his plate on the counter.

“What? No,” you protested, snatching the phone before he could grab it. “You need to go to work; I know Namjoon-oppa will be mad if you skip again.”

Taehyung’s frown deepened. “I don’t want to leave you alone when you’re like this,” he objected.

“Tae-oppa, I’m fine. Please just go to work,” you begged, using the old nickname you had for him for good measure. You hadn’t called him that since before he kicked you out, and you could see him softening in front of you.

“Are you sure?” he asked, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at you – not that he needed it, with his enhanced wolf vision.

“Yeah.” You nodded, smiling tremulously at him.

“Okay. I’ll see you when I get home then.” Taehyung got up and got ready to leave, and you followed him to the front door. As he was putting his coat on, you sidled up to him and wrapped your arms around him in a hug, the first one you’d voluntarily given him since he’d found you at Hangang Park.

“What’s all this?” he asked, bemused, even as his arms wrapped around you. His wolf just couldn’t resist, and you were so cute, nuzzling into the hollow between his collarbones like you were scenting him. Humming with pleasure, he dropped his head to the top of yours, sniffing your hair.

“Nothing,” you said, your voice slightly muffled. You pulled back a little so you could look up at him, and for a second, your faces were so close that he could have just dipped his head slightly to kiss you. The temptation was overwhelming, especially since you’d initiated the hug, but Taehyung held it together – just barely. You squeezed him a little tighter and it took everything in him to stay still, praying that you wouldn’t notice the erection starting to form in his pants.

Obviously, you did notice it, since it was pressed into your belly, but you graciously ignored it, knowing that he couldn’t help it. Knowledge of your impending mortality made such things seem less significant, anyway.

When you finally released him and took a step back, he blinked for a moment, slightly bereft. Without your warmth pressed against him he felt a little cold, even though he knew it was ridiculous. Still, he had to leave, so he brushed your hair behind your shoulder fondly and asked, “Are you sure you’ll be okay at home?” one last time.

“Yes,” you stressed, pushing him gently out the door. “I’ll be fine, I promise, Tae-oppa.” He still looked a little dubious, but you’d distracted him by calling him that again, and he left with a small smile on his face.

With the door firmly shut behind Taehyung, you leaned against it and sank onto the ground. Just getting him out of the house had been exhausting, and you didn’t know if you actually had the strength to end your own life. Your breath shuddered out of your lungs and you tipped your head back against the door.

Even though you were now alone, you were afraid to give in to your emotions because you didn’t know if you would have the courage to go through with it if you let the fear take over. Instead, you mechanically got on with your morning routine, washing the dishes and tidying up. You avoided the bathroom because you knew what was there.

Since Taehyung had been having trouble sleeping without you in his bed, he’d gotten a prescription for sleeping pills which he kept in the bathroom cabinet. He didn’t use them all the time, you knew, just the nights that were particularly bad. If you thought hard enough, it would be easy to connect the times when he couldn’t sleep to your ovulation cycle, but you were determined to ignore that.

It wasn’t until hours later that you opened the bathroom cabinet and found the pills. You reached into the cabinet, your hands trembling, and closed your fingers around the small bottle. Your legs wouldn’t work properly when you went back to your room and shut the door, and it felt like every muscle in your body was already stiff.

Looking down at the bottle in your palm, you bit your lip to prevent tears from leaking out again. You rolled the container back and forth a little, looking at the sticker with Taehyung’s name on it. The recommended dose was half a pill to one.

Breathing out heavily, you steeled yourself to open the bottle, but you couldn’t do it. With a sigh, you placed it down on your bedside table, staring at it. The little orange bottle with a white cap sat innocently where you’d left it, like it was mocking you.

-----------------------------

Something had been off all day, Taehyung could feel it. Obviously, there was no supernatural aspect to the imprint, but he’d been living with you for almost ten years now, and you weren’t as good at hiding your emotions as you thought you were. Worrying about you consumed almost all of his focus, and he was a complete mess during dance practice – even Namjoon was doing better than he was.

After the third time Hoseok had stopped practice to yell at him, Namjoon intervened, taking Taehyung aside to talk to him in the hallway.

“Tae, what’s been going on with you recently? You skip out on practice for two days, and now it’s like you’re not even here when you are.”

Taehyung shrugged, averting eye contact. He was ashamed of how he was acting, because he knew it was stressing his brothers out too when they were already freaking out over the comeback tour, but he just couldn’t get you out of his mind. “I’m sorry, hyung. Y/n’s been acting a little strange recently, and I’m just worried about leaving her alone,” he explained.

Namjoon’s expression softened. “Do you need to talk about it?” he offered.

“I don’t know. She’s been acting a little strange since the tour ended, and after I told her that my heat is coming up…” he blushed. Hybrids weren’t shy when talking about their heats – it was a normal bodily function for them, after all – but since Taehyung had the imprint, any mention of the heat implied that he couldn’t stop thinking about the way his pet human smelled and tasted. Even though he was coming to accept that the imprint, and by extension, his desires, were not his fault, it was still awkward and embarrassing for him to talk about it. He hadn’t told anyone about it other than you, so only Namjoon knew.

“Yeah? What’s been going on? Maybe she’s just stressed out about it,” Namjoon tried to reassure his brother. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know…” Taehyung pursed his lips in thought. “She spent the last couple of days locked up in her room and I kept hearing her crying. She wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, though.”

Namjoon was starting to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. Was this related to the conversation he’d had with you so many months ago?

“And she was really weird today, too. You know she gave me a hug?” Try as he might, Taehyung couldn’t stop the dreamy note from entering his voice. As uncharacteristic as it had been for you, he’d missed your physical affection so much that he couldn’t bring himself to complain about it.

“That sounds nice. Why are you worried then?” Namjoon prompted.

“I don’t know. She just seemed really upset even though she was trying to hide it.” Taehyung frowned. “I even offered to stay home again to keep her company, but she basically forced me to leave the house.”

His jaw tightening, Namjoon’s mind raced. “You should go back to check on her if you’re worried,” he told Taehyung.

“What? But practice and everything, I can’t just abandon you guys-” he protested.

“Please, as if you’re helping us out in your current state.” Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Go, I’ll cover for you with the others.”

“Okay. Thank you, hyung,” he said gratefully before running down the hall to the elevator.

------------------------------------

You picked up the bottle again, shaking it a little and hearing the noise as the pills rattled against the container. “Okay, now or never,” you psyched yourself up with a deep breath. Of course, you’d rather it be never, but you pushed that thought out of your mind. This was for Taehyung, you reminded yourself.

The bottle cap had a child lock on it, which was truly ridiculous when you stopped to think about it, because adult humans were definitely more able to open a stupid bottle cap than a hybrid child was. If they were going to restrict access to prescription medication, a human-proof lock would be better.

Then again, you mused sardonically, most humans were smart enough to know not to break into medicine cabinets and eat whatever they saw, so it was probably seen as redundant.

Opening the bottle easily, you turned it over and emptied the contents into your hand. You dropped the bottle onto the covers next to where you were sitting and reached for the glass of water you’d prepared on your nightstand. Your hand trembled so much, though, that you had to work extra hard to get a good grip on the glass, and even then, you spilled a bit on the bed.

Slowly, you unclenched your hand and stared at the pills. Closing your eyes, you tossed them all into your mouth, then brought the glass of water to your lips. Come on, you thought to yourself. It would all be over soon – all the suffering that you’d experienced in the last year. Just a couple of minutes, and you would slip into blissful sleep. No more nightmares, no more trauma…

Now that you’d decided on this path, the knowledge that you wouldn’t need to continue living such a painful existence was almost a relief to you. Finally, you tipped the glass a little so water filled your mouth and swallowed. You finished the water before setting the glass back on the bedside table, then stretched out so you were lying on your side, facing the door.

Although it was too soon to feel the effects of the sleeping pills, you felt an incredible wave of peace wash over you, and you closed your eyes. Soon, all of this would be over. You’d be free, setting down all your burdens.

Right before you faded out of consciousness, you vaguely registered your phone vibrating against the bedside table, but your eyelids were too heavy to lift, and it felt impossible to raise your hand to pick it up to see who was calling.

----------------------------------------

The sense of dread and discomfort Taehyung felt brewing in the pit of his stomach only intensified as he drove back home, and by the time he parked his car, the unease bordered on panic. He’d been attempting to call you the whole time, but you hadn’t picked up, which was strange for you – you’d not been far from your phone ever since you’d gotten your first. It was just lucky that he hadn’t been pulled over or gotten into an accident from how poorly he’d been driving, his gaze constantly flicking from the road to his phone.

He raced up to his apartment as quickly as possible, bursting through the door like a madman. Every second felt like life or death, and he’d almost broken the elevator buttons from pressing on it so hard so many times. “Y/n?” he called, his voice echoing through the apartment the moment he stepped through the door.

There was no response to break the ominous silence, only the deafening sound of his heart pounding in his ears. Kicking off his shoes, Taehyung walked quickly through the corridor, peeking into the kitchen and living room as he passed them to make sure you weren’t in either of those rooms.

“Y/n?” he called again, his voice starting to sound slightly manic. He hoped more than anything that you would appear from around the corner and laugh at him for getting so worked up over nothing, but there was no sound or movement. Your bedroom door was shut, so he knew you hadn’t left the apartment, because you never shut it after you.

Stopping in front of your room, he knocked on the door. “Y/n, are you there? Can you let me in, please?”

Silence.

“Y/n?” He knocked again, a little more insistently.

When there was still no response, he opened the door hesitantly and peeked in. “Y/n?” When he saw you lying on your bed, he relaxed for a moment, thinking that you were just taking a nap. In fact, you looked so peaceful like that, with all the lines in your face from that tense expression you always wore around him smoothed out.

He stepped into the room and realized only then that something was wrong. You were breathing too slowly, and your heart rate was sluggish. Looking closer, he saw the empty pill bottle lying on its side next to you and his panic rocketed through the roof.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, rushing to you. “Y/n? Y/n!” he tried to shake you awake, to no avail.

“Shit,” he hissed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to prop you up. Your head lolled listlessly. “Y/n, please,” he begged, tears pricking at his eyes that he tried to blink away. He had to keep it together, or you wouldn’t make it.

Setting you back down on the bed, he called the ambulance hotline. The moment he heard the click that meant someone had picked up, he started explaining what had happened, the words spilling out of him in his urgency. “My human, she’s swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills, I don’t know what to do, I—” His voice broke on a sob.

“Sir? Please remain calm. I’ll send an ambulance; can you provide your address?” The person manning the hotline’s soothing voice helped Taehyung, and he took a deep breath as he told her the address.

“An ambulance will be there ASAP. In the meantime, it would be helpful if you could induce vomiting to start removing the drug from her system.”

Taehyung tossed his phone onto the covers and pushed his sleeves past his elbows. “Induce vomiting…” he muttered to himself, his hands hovering uncertainly over your face. “Uhhh…”

Gingerly, he slid one hand under your neck to hold your head off the mattress slightly and winced as he stuck two fingers in your mouth, gently probing at the opening of your throat. No response.

“Fuck, come on…” he said, voice strained as he pushed a little harder and felt you gag. Encouraged, he did it again, and it felt like your whole body convulsed as you started throwing up.

“Gross,” he cried, unable to retract his hand fast enough. He tilted your head so you didn’t choke on your own vomit, and it fell onto the floor instead. He wrinkled his nose – the smell was awful, especially to his enhanced hybrid senses – but he could see the pills lying among the mess, and he sagged in relief, bracing his arms against the bed on either side of your prone form as he bowed his head, his forehead just barely touching your stomach.

And then the paramedics arrived, and everything was a blur of motion that Taehyung could barely keep up with. You were lifted onto a stretcher and someone was wiping off his hand, then he was following the paramedics out while answering their questions about you. Turns out, he didn’t know a lot about what you’d been doing before you decided to do this.

On the way to the hospital, he sat in the ambulance clutching your hand, hovering anxiously above you and watching your face for any sign of discomfort or pain. There was none, of course. You were still out cold, but watching you made him feel useful, and reassured him that you were still breathing and okay. His wolf was frantic, and it was difficult to keep his baser instincts under wraps when his control was so frayed by his emotional state, but he had to, for your sake.

It became almost a mantra for him during the traumatic hours when they wheeled you off into the hospital, pumped your stomach and gave you other drugs to get the sleeping pills out of your system. He reminded himself sternly that he could not give in to his animal instincts, rip into the doctors and nurses who were causing you pain and growl at everyone to leave you the fuck alone. It had been easier staying in control of his animal side when there was a task at hand that he needed to focus on to help you, but now that there was nothing to do but sit around, he felt like he was going crazy, the two sides of his psyche at war with each other.

He sat in the corridor right outside the room you were in, listening to the sounds coming from within: the beeping, the yelling from the doctor and nurses as they tried to save your life, and worst of all, the revolting sounds that came with you having your stomach pumped. You regained consciousness briefly during that time, and your cries of distress and pain were agonizing to listen to. Unaware that there was nothing he could do, his wolf side snarled and begged for him to help, to snatch you away from the people who were torturing you. He bowed his head, sat on his hands and cried along with you.

It wasn’t until you were safely in your own room in the hospital, cleaned up and asleep in your bed with an IV drip in, that Taehyung could finally relax, knowing you would be all right. He texted Namjoon to tell him what had happened, then just sat with you, waiting for you to wake up.

---------------------------------------

The room was dark, you noted sluggishly. The door was open, and some light spilled in from the hallway, but the ceiling was barely lit with a dim yellow. It was kind of soothing, you thought as your eyes slid shut again. Everything felt heavy and ached, so you didn’t bother trying to move. It was easier to just go back to sleep.

The next time you woke up, the room was bright again, and when you tried to lift your hand to your face to block out the light, you found that you couldn’t. This was concerning until you turned to see Taehyung, slumped on the bed with his cheek resting against your hand.

You wriggled your fingers a little, just to check that you still could, and the motion woke him up. He blinked slowly, his vision blurry for a second, until he realized where he was and jolted upright. It was probably the fastest you’d ever seen him wake up, and you wanted to make a dig at his expense about it, but when you tried to speak, you realized how dry your throat was.

“Water,” you croaked, and Taehyung leapt to do your bidding, bringing you a paper cup filled with water. You reached out to take the cup from him, but he refused to hand it over, helping you sit up with one arm while feeding you the water with the other. When the cool liquid touched your lips, you sucked it down eagerly, unaware until that moment how very thirsty you actually were.

“Slowly,” Taehyung cautioned. Ignoring him, you drained the cup and asked for more.

When you’d had three whole cups of water, he helped you find the remote control for the bed so that you could sit up comfortably. The blanket pooled around your hips and Taehyung continued fussing over you, making sure you were comfortable.

“I’m fine, oppa,” you said, batting his hands away gently. He looked up at you, his face so close to yours, and the anguish you saw in his eyes took your breath away. “Oppa… are you okay?” you asked, cradling his face with your hand. You swept your thumb across his cheek as his eyes closed. He was supposed to be okay… that was the whole point.

“I should be asking you that question,” he forced out, his voice thick with emotion as he sat back down heavily. “Y/n… why did you do it?”

Swallowing hard, you looked away from him and refused to say anything.

“Y/n, please…” he begged. “I want to help you. That’s all I want.” He leaned forward, trying to meet your eyes, but you slid your gaze away again. “If you won’t talk to me, will you talk to a psychologist or a therapist?”

Your eyes widened in panic and you turned back to face him so fast he thought he might have heard your neck crack. “I can’t talk to anyone else about this!” you cried out. “You know we can’t tell anyone about the… the…” As you realized what you’d almost blurted out, you clammed up, clutching at your blanket in distress as you lowered your gaze.

“Is this… about the imprint?” Taehyung asked, his voice shaky now. You didn’t reply, but the damage was already done. “Y/n, I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice choked. He sniffled and blinked away tears. “I know this has been difficult and unfair for you,” he continued. “If you want to leave me, you only have to ask, okay?”

Fuck. This had never been the plan. Now he thought there was something wrong with you and wanted to get rid of you. Of course he did – who wanted a defective pet who tried to commit suicide? “You want me to go?” you asked in a small voice. “Where- where would I go?”

“Will you be happier if you leave? I just want you to be happy, baby. You can go live with my parents, or I’ll get you your own apartment somewhere, or if you want--” He gulped. “I can see if anyone else wants to adopt you. You’re so cute and pretty, I’m sure lots of hybrids want to adopt a human like you.” The words felt like ground glass, but he was sincere in his offer. If it would help you, he would give you up entirely, despite the personal cost to him. Even saying the words had his wolf going crazy, begging and whining for you to stay, but he remained resolute, refusing to give voice to his feelings. This was about you, and it would remain about you.

Would you be happier if you left? Honestly, you didn’t know. You looked up at him and bit your lip thoughtfully. The imprint had been difficult for you to deal with, yes, and he’d ruined your trust in him by kicking you out. But he’d been trying to make up for it ever since, and it had been about eight months of him reining in his instincts and being patient and kind. You were more than aware that his insomnia was caused by you, and it probably wasn’t the only problem that you were causing in his life, yet he’d never made you feel bad.

And—most importantly, he’d saved you. You were sitting in this hospital bed, well and alive, because of him, and he was still trying to help you. Would you ever find somebody who cared about you as much as Taehyung? Who else would go to the same lengths to make sure that you were safe and happy?

Even now, you could see how difficult it was for him to make you that offer. Taehyung was notoriously bad at hiding his feelings, after all, especially from someone as familiar with him as you were, but even without seeing his distress from his body language, you knew that it wouldn’t be easy for him if you left his life. Yet he’d offered, and he was being sincere about it.

Taehyung was one in a million, and you’d lucked out by having him as your owner. He’d been exemplary other than his one slip, and as awful as that had been, you could sort of understand why he’d done it. Besides, hadn’t he made up for it?

Before you knew it, you were shaking your head. Slowly at first, then increasingly vehemently. You didn’t want to leave him, you realized now. Yes, things had been difficult recently, but he’d done his best to make up for it, was truly remorseful about his mistake, and you could feel how much he cared for you with everything he did. For the most part, you really liked being his pet, and you would miss him if you left.

“I don’t want to leave,” you said in a small voice.

Taehyung sagged in relief. “Okay, baby,” he said, reaching out to stroke your hair. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Trust me. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you ever again.”

His promise made you feel like everything was going to be all right, because you knew Taehyung would move heaven and earth for you.

------------------------------

When you were discharged from the hospital a few days later, Taehyung was right there to pick you up, wheeling you out in your wheelchair – despite your protests that you could walk, thank you very much – and attempting to help you into the car. Although you slapped his hands away and got into the car unaided, you couldn’t stop the small smile that stole across your face at how eager he was to coddle you.

Taehyung had barely left your side during the time you’d been in the hospital, and they’d given him special permission to stay past visiting hours because he was your owner. He’d only gone home to shower and change, and to bring you some proper clothes to change into when you were discharged. Your near-death experience had changed your entire outlook on the situation you were in, and you were more open with him now than you’d been in the past months, ever since he rescued you from the streets. Taehyung, for his part, reveled in your new, easier relationship with him, smiling so much at you that you wondered how his cheeks didn’t ache.

You were glad to be home, honestly. Hospital food sucked and you craved the comfort of being back in familiar surroundings. Taehyung looked over at you after pressing the button for the elevator, and you smiled back at him. “You doing okay?” he asked, just to be sure. He’d been doing that a lot over the past couple of days – asking after you periodically, like he just had to make sure that you were still okay.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you told him, squeezing his arm. You knew it had scared him when you suddenly – or so it seemed to him – decided to take your own life, with very little warning. Since you didn’t have any plans to tell him why you’d done it, not being willing to throw Namjoon under the bus when you knew he’d meant well, you’d made up your mind to reassure him that you didn’t have any plans to try again. You were quite happy being among the living.

When Taehyung opened the front door and let you in, you about leapt out of your skin when you saw the other boys standing in the entrance. “Y/n-ie!” Jimin cried, rushing to give you a hug. Confused, you stood still and let him rub his cheek against your temple, staring with wide eyes at the boys over his shoulder.

“Guys, what are you doing here?” Taehyung grumped, trying to sound irritated but not entirely succeeding.

Hoseok shrugged. “We wanted to come welcome Y/n back,” he explained. “We brought lots of food, too.”

“Aww, thank you guys,” you giggled.

It was easy to not overthink when you were with all seven of the boys. They were rowdy and noisy, as always, yelling at each other and hamming it up to make you laugh. You didn’t need to do much to feel comfortable with them, sliding into old, familiar patterns of interaction as you sat at the table and ate the food they’d brought, giggling at their antics.

Even Taehyung seemed to relax around them, losing the tension you’d seen him carry in his shoulders and the lines around his mouth. As he smiled and laughed with Jungkook and Jimin, you couldn’t help but feel warm inside. This was what you had chosen, and you were happy with your decision.

None of the boys mentioned why you’d been in the hospital to begin with, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but from the way Namjoon kept staring at you, you knew Taehyung had definitely told at least him. You tried your best to avoid his gaze, feeling awkward, but you could feel his eyes drilling holes into the back of your head.

After lunch, you excused yourself to use the restroom while the others started clearing up. As you were washing your hands, you stared into the mirror as the memory of what had transpired the last time you were in this room happened. Right behind the mirror was the cabinet, and you couldn’t help but recall reaching in to grab the bottle of pills.

Shaken, you quickly dried off your hands and exited the room – only to run into Namjoon, who was leaning against the wall by the bathroom door.

“Oppa,” you greeted him, making to skirt around him and return to the living room, where the rest of the boys had migrated.

“Y/n,” he said urgently, and you looked up at him, surprised. You’d thought he just wanted to use the bathroom too, but apparently you were wrong.

“What is it, oppa?” you asked politely, not wanting to make a scene.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he apologized, looking down shamefully.

Your eyes widened. This hadn’t really been what you were expecting. “What for?” you asked cautiously.

“For suggesting that you should… you know,” he gestured at you with his hands, unable to say the words.

“Oh… don’t be sorry. You didn’t force me or anything,” you said, patting his arm.

“Still, I shouldn’t have told you about it,” he persisted. “That was wrong of me, I realise now. It’s not your responsibility to break the imprint.”

“Oppa…” you sighed. “It’s really not your fault, okay? I was the one who made the decision, and I was the one who asked you for the information. I know you were just trying to help.”

He raised his anguished gaze to meet yours, and you were surprised by how truly miserable he looked. This whole time, you’d thought that he only tolerated you, that he resented you because of what you’d done to Taehyung. His attitude towards you had shifted so drastically after finding out about the imprint that you’d gotten whiplash, and it was a huge part of why you ultimately accepted that the imprint was mostly your fault. Seeing him so cut up about your suicide attempt was jarring, to say the least.

“No, it was wrong of me,” he insisted. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I realise now that it isn’t your fault all of this happened, and I should have known better than to tell you when you were still recovering from your traumatic experience.”

“What did you tell her?” Taehyung’s voice cut rudely into the discussion you were having with Namjoon, and you both whipped around, eyes wide. It would have been almost comical if Taehyung hadn’t been so furious.

“Taehyung-ah—”

“Tae-oppa—”

Both of you tried to placate Taehyung, but he wasn’t having it. “What. Did. You. Tell. Her?” he asked, louder and more forcefully this time.

You wanted to facepalm. You’d been so careful about not letting it slip to Taehyung, trying to prevent this very situation from happening, and he’d caught you at the earliest possible moment.

“Tae-oppa, please—” You ran towards him, grabbing his shirt with your hands and trying to stop him from advancing on Namjoon. “It was nothing, please just let it go,” you begged.

When he looked down tenderly at you, brushing his thumb over your cheek in a manner that was very reminiscent of the way you’d done the same to him in the hospital, you relaxed a little, thinking he was going to do as you asked. Then he looked up at Namjoon over your head, and you sighed. Oh well, you thought. It would have been too easy if you’d been able to defuse the situation just like that.

Namjoon, for his part, wasn’t doing anything to defend himself, standing with his head bowed and hands clasped in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered softly, knowing that Taehyung would be able to hear him anyway.

It didn’t help. Taehyung pushed you out of the way gently and you stared, wide-eyed, as he stalked towards the taller hybrid. Namjoon could probably defend himself if he wanted to, but he didn’t bother, letting Taehyung deck him so hard he fell onto the ground. Unsatisfied, Taehyung straddled him and continued hitting him repeatedly, so hard you could see Namjoon’s eye already swelling shut as blood spattered on the ground.

“Stop, stop!” you screamed, throwing yourself onto your knees behind the and wrapping your arms around Taehyung’s waist. “Stop, please…” you started sobbing, burying your face in his back. The violence reminded you of being out on the streets, watching the various gang fights between the humans that would take place on a near-daily basis.

The commotion had the other boys rushing to see what was going on, gathering in the hallway as they gawked at the scene in front of them. Hoseok was the first one to snap out of it, running forward to haul Taehyung off Namjoon. The fox hybrid wasn’t strong enough to control the incensed wolf, but Jin and Jungkook quickly stepped in to help, and together they managed to separate the two.

Jimin darted forward to fuss over Namjoon, helping him up while Taehyung strained against his brothers and continued yelling and swearing.

“Tae-oppa, please,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Please stop.”

The proximity to you seemed to help, as he relaxed slightly in your hold. “You’d better go,” you said to Namjoon, and he nodded. The rest of the boys filed out with him, leaving you alone with your owner.

“Tae-oppa, are you okay?” you asked worriedly once the door closed behind the others. You pulled away from him and grabbed his hands, examining them to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself.

“Is that why you did it?” he asked. He didn’t sound like himself, and you looked up at him with concern. His bangs hung over his eyes, which were still sparking with rage. He’d never seemed more like an animal than in that moment, and this was including the last time he’d been in heat.

“Taehyung-oppa…” You didn’t know what to say.

“Is it?!” he raised his voice, and you jumped in fright. Your nerves were already shot to hell from the bathroom and then the confrontation with Namjoon, and you broke down in tears.

“I’m sorry,” you blubbered between sobs. “He said it was the only way to break the imprint, and then you said you didn’t want it, and I thought—”

“Hey, hey.” Your distress snapped Taehyung out of his anger, and he immediately turned his attention to comforting you. “I wasn’t blaming you, please don’t cry,” he said, his tone a lot softer now as he rubbed his hands up and down your arms. “You don’t need to apologize, ever, okay? It was my fault for being thoughtless,” he said, ducking a little so he could look you in the eye when you were stubbornly looking downward.

“I don’t ever want you to think that the imprint is a problem for you to solve, okay? It’s not your fault, and I should never have made you think that you had any obligation to seek out a solution, especially one like that.” The strength and conviction with which he spoke the words made it difficult to do anything other than nod, and you finally felt the weight you’d been carrying on your shoulders ever since Namjoon told you about what he thought was the only way to break the bond.

“And I’m sorry for yelling.” He sighed as you hugged him, wrapping his own arms around you and stroking your hair as you sobbed into his shirtfront. “Next time, if you have any problems, I don’t want you to think you have to hide them from me, okay? Even if they’re about us.” He might have imprinted on you, but he was still your owner and he was still responsible for you. He’d been paying for his slip-up for almost a year now, and he was determined to be more mindful from now on. The image of your body, looking so small and fragile, in your bed still haunted him.

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Being back in your room was difficult, you realized once you’d washed up and gotten ready for bed. Even getting into bed made you think of your suicide attempt, and there was also that ugly stain on the carpet from where you’d thrown up. Taehyung had tried to clean it, but he hadn’t been able to get the stain out, and looking at it bothered you.

There was no way you’d be able to fall asleep in the room, so you hesitantly walked over to Taehyung’s intending to bunk in with him. However, the moment you reached the door, you chickened out and paused with your fist raised. Would it be okay if you slept with him tonight? Taehyung would never say no, but you knew it would probably be difficult for him to get any rest with you in his bed. The last time you’d slept in the same room with him had been the night he found out about your experience on the street, and you still remembered waking up to his hard-on pressing into your back.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, you thought. You could always stay on the couch tonight, you decided and turned to do just that. Before you could take a step, however, the bedroom door opened behind you and you turned back around to see Taehyung standing in front of you wearing just pajama pants.

“H-hey,” you said awkwardly.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked. You didn’t ask how he knew you were there – of course he heard you coming down the hall. You bit your lip uncertainly, but sleeping with him did sound like a much better option than the couch, so you said yes and scurried into his room, climbing back into your side of the bed and burrowing under the sheets.

“Are you all right?” Taehyung asked as he got back into bed.

You hummed noncommittally. “I guess,” you said cagily, and he turned onto his side to look at you more fully. The intimacy of this position made your heart race, and you weren’t sure if it was discomfort or something else. His quirked brow was all it took to make you come clean. “Being in my room reminds me of… you know,” you mumbled, feeling guilty for some reason.

“It’s okay,” Taehyung soothed, though he didn’t initiate any physical contact. “You can stay here tonight, and tomorrow we can go stay with my parents for a while, okay? Would you like that?”

Your eyes lit up at the prospect. “We can visit Yeontan?” you asked, your voice lilting with delight.

“Of course we can,” Taehyung said, smiling at you. Your affection for the little dog knew no bounds, and he really should have done this sooner, he realized as he watched you snuggle more deeply into the sheets and shut your eyes. You were asleep within minutes, which he envied, knowing it would probably be a sleepless night for him.

Thankfully, he was wrong, although he thought maybe it would have been better if he’d stayed awake when he woke up and realized that he was wrapped around you again. He was really working on remembering to limit physical contact with you, but it was difficult not to give in to habit (and his wolf instincts) when you seemed more open and comfortable around him than you had in months. Your brush with death had really changed your attitude towards him, it seemed, and though he didn’t really understand why, he was just pleased that you didn’t seem to shy away from his touch as much anymore.

Carefully disentangling himself from you, he slipped out of bed with his phone in his hand and hobbled awkwardly towards the bathroom. Sharing a bed with his imprint was hard (pun intended). Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, he called his parents to ask if it was okay if the two of you stayed with them for a little while. They were more than pleased to have you.

The next call he made was considerably harder. Since he wasn’t exactly on talking terms with Namjoon, he called Hoseok to let him know that he would be taking a couple of weeks off to spend time with you and his family. He felt bad about it, and apologized repeatedly, but right now he had to make you his priority.

Hoseok was understanding enough, explaining that he too thought it was best if Taehyung and Namjoon didn’t see each other for a little bit. They were already going to have to push promotions back by a couple of weeks because Namjoon’s face was messed up, so it would be fine if he skipped practice.

When he hung up the phone, he took a moment to bury his face in his hands. God, everything was a mess, but at least you were healthy and seemed to be in high spirits. Shaken up by your near brush with death, sure, but overall doing way better than expected. Thank God for small blessings, he supposed. And big blessings too, like that he’d decided to come home early and found you before it was too late.

You woke up to an empty bed, but that didn’t really faze you. When you peeked out the bedroom door, you saw the bathroom door was closed, and figured Taehyung was in there. Shrugging, you skipped over to your room to start packing. You couldn’t be more excited about going back to Geochang and seeing Yeontan and Kai and everyone else.

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Being back on the farm was great, you thought. Yeontan came running up to the car as soon as it pulled up in front of the house, and you leapt out to pick up your furry little friend. “I missed you so much,” you cooed, rubbing your face in his fur as he wriggled around excitedly, trying to lick your face. Taehyung’s parents came out to greet you, hugging their son and then you. Yeontan was now panting happily from his perch in your arms, and you cuddled him as Taehyung brought your bags in.

Distractions abounded on the farm, and you kept yourself well-entertained with Taehyung’s siblings, nephews and nieces, and hanging out with your old friends. It made it easy to avoid thinking about everything that had transpired, and every night when it was time for bed, you were so exhausted that you weren’t able to lie there thinking and worrying, falling asleep almost immediately.

Taehyung was enjoying the break too. He loved the city and his work, but being back in the countryside, with the clean air and the family he rarely got to see was a welcome respite. He spent his days mostly in the house, hanging out with his family while you ran around doing whatever. It was nice to see you happy again, he thought one afternoon as you took a nap on the couch, snuggled up with Yeontan. He was still a baby, but he was getting on in age and wasn’t as spry as he once was, something you didn’t mind as you carried him around so he wouldn’t strain his little joints walking.

Still, you could only distract yourself for so long before everything caught up with you, and you found yourself huddled in a shed late one morning crying over everything you’d lost. As healing as being on the farm was, it reminded you of the last time you’d lived here, while Taehyung had been serving in the military. It had been so much easier, everything uncomplicated and simple. You hadn’t had to battle these complicated feelings for Taehyung, knowing that he was struggling with his own turmoil – you’d just been secure in the fact that he loved you the way he should love a pet.

Yeontan, concerned, propped his front paws on your knees and tried to lick your tears away, but you just pulled him close as you continued to sob. Why had everything become so difficult? What had you done to deserve all of this?

As you were having your little breakdown, Taehyung was looking for you. It was almost lunchtime, which you were never late for because you loved his mom’s cooking, so he got concerned when you didn’t pop up with Yeontan in tow. It seemed like the dog liked you better than everyone else, including Taehyung himself, which didn’t seem fair, but he’d gotten over sulking about it when he saw how happy you two made each other.

“Mom, have you seen Y/n? She’s usually never late for lunch, I’m getting worried,” Taehyung finally asked after checking every room in the house and the spots around the farm he thought she’d be.

“Oh, try looking in that old shed on the far corner of the orchard, sweetie,” his mother replied carelessly, plating up the dishes. “She likes to hang out there for quiet time; thinks we don’t know about it.”

With that helpful tip, Taehyung jogged through the orchard to the shed in question, knowing he’d hit the jackpot even before opening the door because of the sound of your sobs coming through the door.

“Y/n?” he called, knocking on the door. “You in there?”

Sniffling, you hastily tried to wipe away your tears with the sleeve of your shirt. “Yeah,” you called out.

“Hey,” he greeted you as he walked in, coming to take a seat next to you. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you said, looking down at your hands, half-covered by your oversized sleeves. Only your fingers peeked out, making you look smaller and more vulnerable than usual.

“Come on,” Taehyung coaxed, knocking his shoulder into yours gently. “You know you can trust me with anything, right? I’ll always support you.”

You clenched your hands into fists, hiding them in your sleeves. Yeontan hopped from your lap to Taehyung’s, and you felt the loss of his warm little body immediately, curling closer into Taehyung in response.

“It’s just… it’s a lot,” you said vaguely, unsure of how to put your thoughts into words.

Thankfully, Taehyung understood without you needing to say anything. “I’m sure it is,” he empathized quietly. His giant frame radiated heat that you soaked up eagerly. As a human, you weren’t quite as resistant to the cold as he was. “If you want to talk about it, though, I’m always here for you, okay? It can be now or any time.”

“I know.” You nodded. Taehyung had definitely demonstrated his commitment to you. Whether it was because he was a responsible pet owner or because of the imprint you weren’t sure, but you knew now that there was no stronger force on this earth than Taehyung’s determination to keep you safe.

It was that sense of security that had you opening up to him. Resting your head on his shoulder, you started speaking. “Being here just reminded me of a simpler time, is all.”

“I get that,” Taehyung said quietly, leaning his head against yours. “Being here reminds me of my childhood too.” He ignored the way his heart seemed to skip at your proximity, determined to be there for you. You’d always enjoyed physical comfort in the past, and it wasn’t anything more than that. What kind of owner would he be if he couldn’t even cuddle his pet?

He looked down at Yeontan, sitting on his lap and panting up at him happily. That’s right, he tried to convince himself. You were just like Yeontan. Pesky imprint aside, he shouldn’t see or treat you any differently.

Thankfully, you didn’t notice any of his inner turmoil since you were so absorbed in your own thoughts. Looping your arm around his, you continued speaking, feeling like now that the dam had been broken the words were spilling out of you almost too fast, without any control. “I know none of this is your fault – well, except for kicking me out, that most definitely was—” Taehyung nodded, accepting your censure with grace, “—but it just feels like a lot of pressure, you know?”

Taehyung stiffened. “If I’ve ever made you feel obligated to do anything—” he began, but you cut him off, shaking your head.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Your brow furrowed as you thought about the best way to phrase it. “It’s just that…” you paused to think for a moment, before continuing. “Knowing how much you’re struggling makes me feel like I should be doing more to help you,” you explained.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to, really, you shouldn’t worry about this at all,” he stressed, and meant it.

“That’s not how caring about someone works, Tae-oppa,” you countered. “Besides, isn’t your heat coming up soon? If we don’t go back soon you’re going to have to go through it here and it’ll be super awkward and—” You stopped when Taehyung abruptly lifted his head off yours and stared down at you.

“What is it?” you asked, looking up at him. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Oppa? You okay?”

“My heat,” he murmured. “I forgot about that.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion. “You forgot? How is that even possible?” The symptoms of his preheat were so disruptive that all his daily activities were affected by them.

“I don’t know, the symptoms just… disappeared.”

Blinking at him, you tried to put the pieces together. “Okaaaay…” you said slowly. “When did this happen?” If there was a problem with his health, you had to go back to Seoul ASAP so he could see a doctor. You’d never heard of this happening before, although granted, you’d never been seeking this information out.

“Uhh, I remember eating way more than usual for breakfast the morning that you, uh…” he paused awkwardly, then continued, skipping over any mention of your suicide attempt altogether. “Then you were in the hospital and I was so worried I was barely eating, so I guess it was then?”

You frowned. That didn’t make sense – his heat cycle had never been disrupted by stress before. Even when there’d been deaths in his family his heat had still passed without incident. Yet it had to be that, since the timing lined up so perfectly.

Taehyung’s lips pressed together to avoid smiling at how cute you were when you were deep in thought, trying to figure the puzzle out. “Come on,” he said, standing up and dusting his pants off. “It’s lunchtime.”

“Oh, okay,” you said quietly, jolted out of your train of thought, as you let him help you up. By the time you got back to the house, lunch was almost over and as you exclaimed your disappointment over your favourite stew being gone, you forgot entirely about the strange mystery of Taehyung’s heat.

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Being back in Geochang meant hanging out with Kai again. Your reunion with your ex-boyfriend was something you’d been looking forward to since Taehyung even floated the idea of going back to visit his parents. You hadn’t broken up because you were incompatible in any way, of course, but because it was just impossible to be together, since your life was with Taehyung’s in Seoul, and Kai’s family was very happy living in the countryside.

Still, when you went to visit him, his owners just let you into the house, telling you that Kai was upstairs in his room. After thanking them politely, you ran up to his bedroom, bursting in and jumping on his bed, where he was still sleeping.

“Kai! Wake up, you lazy sack!” you giggled as you shook him awake.

He batted you away irritably. “I haven’t seen you in over a year and you’re still just as annoying as ever,” he grumbled, but since he glomped you while he was saying it, you ignored his annoying whining.

You bullied him into going to brush his teeth and sat on the edge of the bathtub watching him as he did so. He was just as handsome as ever, if not more so, but somehow you didn’t feel any attraction towards him. Was it because of the time you’d spent on the streets? Oh God, what if you didn’t like men anymore? Or sex in general? That would be a real tragedy, you thought, pressing your lips together.

Despite your confusion about Kai, the two of you still had a good time together, riding bikes around the countryside the way you used to. It was cold now, since it was winter, but you didn’t let that stop the two of you, even though you were both freezing with red drippy noses. Eventually you ended up in the community greenhouse, setting up a picnic in a cozy corner and shucking your coats. Being with Kai was easy and familiar, and you found yourself slipping into a younger state of mind, feeling lighter and happier. Still no lust, though.

Kai, on the other hand, seemed to have no such compunction – you felt his hand sliding along your lower back, clearly trying to get under your shirt, and you bit back a smile. Even if you didn’t reciprocate, there was something so therapeutic about the predictability of your ex-boyfriend trying to hit on you after all the chaos in your life over the past year.

“Kai,” you rebuked, brushing his hand away from you.

“No?” he asked, pouting at you.

Instead of answering verbally, you just shook your head with a smile.

“Okay,” he accepted, lying back. “I had my doubts anyway.”

“Yeah?” You turned onto your stomach and lay down next to him, propping yourself up with your elbows so you could look down at him easily. “How come?”

He shrugged. “Your whole vibe just seems different,” he said vaguely. “Can you move over a little, please? The sun is getting in my eyes.”

You rolled your eyes but acquiesced so that your shadow blocked out the sun. “What do you mean by that, though?”

“You seem… quieter, and your eyes are different. Like you’re keeping secrets, or you have a burden.”

Well, that much was certainly true, you thought as you hummed in acknowledgement.

“You’re still hot, though,” was his conclusion. You rolled your eyes as you laughed. Kai would be Kai, you supposed.

“Don’t worry, everything’s going to work out,” he said unexpectedly, and you looked at him with wide eyes. He’d always been perceptive, so you shouldn’t have been surprised though. He just smiled sweetly at you in response, and your heart squeezed with affection for him.

“Kai,” you sighed, snuggling close to him and resting your head on his chest. His arm came up around you, and it was nice and secure and warm. Still, you couldn’t shake the thought that Taehyung gave warmer hugs and was altogether better at making you feel like nothing in this world could touch you.

The both of you fell asleep in the greenhouse and only woke up when the sun was starting to set. Kai dropped you off at your place, just like old times, and you smiled fondly at his departing figure on his bicycle before turning around to enter the house.

You almost tripped over Taehyung on your way back into the house.

“Where were you all day?” he demanded.

“Jeez, oppa!” you screamed, pressing your hand over your pounding heart. “I was hanging out with Kai today, don’t worry,” you said dismissively, walking into the house. “Mom, I’m home!” you called out, unwinding your scarf and shucking your coat.

Taehyung came in after you, right on your heels. “You smell just like him,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, we fell asleep after lunch,” you explained with a shrug. This wasn’t necessarily uncommon behavior – even when you were just hanging around the house, you often napped in the afternoon.

His face still looked like a thundercloud, though. “What’s wrong, Taehyung-oppa?” you asked, your brow starting to furrow in concern. Had you missed something important today?

“Nothing,” he sulked. “You just really smell like him,” he repeated.

“All right,” you accepted, though you gave him another strange look before going to the dining room.

Jealousy was inappropriate and ridiculous, Taehyung reminded himself sternly as he ran his hands through his hair. He glanced towards the dining room where you’d gone, and tugged on the fluffy strands hard, hoping the pain would help him ground himself. You’d done nothing wrong and didn’t deserve this weird attitude from him.

Still, he had to admit that he absolutely hated having to smell another man’s scent on you, especially because Kai was human. He knew that you hadn’t done anything with Kai, but still, even if you had, who could blame you? Certainly not his mother, who was asking you about your day with your fellow human.

He needed to get a grip, he decided as he went to rejoin his family. This silly possessiveness over you was because of the imprint. He’d promised you that the imprint wasn’t going to be a problem because he could control it, and he intended to keep that promise.

Although, he thought as he looked over at you again, helping his mother set the table, these days he wasn’t quite sure where he ended and the imprint began.

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By the time you headed back to Seoul with Taehyung two weeks later, your relationship with him was much stronger, and you were happier than you’d been since before his last heat. Being in Geochang was like magic for you, the change in your surroundings making it so much easier to talk to Taehyung about all the doubts and insecurities that you’d been battling with for the past year. You’d even confessed your long-held guilt about taking advantage of him during his last heat, which he’d been horrified by.

Taehyung was driving, and he thought you were asleep in the front seat, so you took the opportunity to open your eyes just a crack to peek at him. He looked so good today, his large hands handling the steering wheel with ease, and you never felt safer than you did with him at the wheel.

“Tae-oppa?” you asked hesitantly as he got into the other side of the bed.

He hummed in acknowledgement, letting you know he was listening.

“About your heat…”

At that, he turned around to face you more fully, showing that you had his full attention.

“Can you go through your heat with another woman?”

“Uhhh…” Taehyung blinked at you. The question had come out of nowhere, and it took him a few seconds to digest it. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s not like there’s a manual for the imprint. It was thought to be obsolete technology, remember?”

You scooched further down into the sheets as you contemplated your response. “So what happened during your last heat… will it happen again?” It was kind of embarrassing talking about this, but you needed to be prepared. You weren’t going to end up in the same position as last year, caught off guard and unable to protect Taehyung from himself and you.

Unbeknownst to you, Taehyung was thinking the same thing. “It won’t,” he rushed to reassure you. “Now that I know what’s going to happen, we can make preparations, okay? You’ll stay with Yoongi or one of the others during my heat. You don’t have to worry that I’ll, uh…” He didn’t want to use the word ‘attack’, but that was what came to mind. “Anyway, yeah,” he concluded lamely.

“But you’ll be miserable, won’t you?” you asked, your eyes filled with concern.

“You don’t have to worry about that, sweetie,” he reassured you. “I can handle myself.”

“But I already feel bad about what I let happen last year,” you protested. “Are you sure you can’t go through your heat with someone else?”

His nose wrinkled in distaste at the mere thought of another woman, but he was more focused on what you’d accidentally let slip. “What do you mean what you let happen?” he asked.

Oops. You hadn’t really meant to say that. “You know,” you equivocated, gesturing helplessly with your hands. “You were clearly indisposed,” you tiptoed around it delicately, “and I should have known better than to reciprocate.” God, this was embarrassing. Your hands itched to bring the duvet up over your head.

“Y/n… what are you talking about?” Taehyung, completely flummoxed, had nothing else to say.

Okay, screw this. You burrowed further under the sheets, hiding your head under the covers. You were officially leaving this conversation.

“Y/n, what happened wasn’t your fault at all,” Taehyung said strongly, patting the head-shaped lump under the covers. “I basically attacked you like an animal, and you were the one who stopped it from getting out of hand. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Your head popped back out. “’Thank you’?” you echoed disbelievingly.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have wanted anything to happen, especially when we hadn’t talked about it before. You took charge when I wasn’t able to control myself, and I know it was difficult for you.”

Your eyes started to sting, and you willed your tears away. The relief of knowing, after all this time, that he didn’t blame you and you didn’t need to keep carrying this burden silently was overwhelming, making your throat close. You couldn’t have said anything in response to him, and Taehyung didn’t push you, just smiling down at you before he turned over and went to sleep, leaving you with your own emotions.

You’d thought about that night almost obsessively since, and you were replaying the events that had occurred in your mind again. Ever since then, you couldn’t stop the way your heart sped up a little when Taehyung was around, and you didn’t quite know what to make of it. He just made you feel so safe and cherished, and he’d so easily helped you set down all the emotional baggage you’d been accumulating for the past year. Was it gratitude or was it something more?

You opened your eyes fully and blinked at Taehyung, and he took his eyes off the road for just a second to smile at you. “Did you have a good nap?” he asked, returning his gaze to the front.

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling back at him. It was true – ever since you’d told him everything, you’d been sleeping so much easier. You still had occasional nightmares about your time on the streets, but Taehyung was always there when you woke up to comfort you, and you were starting to move past it.

“That’s good,” he said, the sincerity radiating off him.

Yeah, you thought to yourself. It was good.

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The return of his preheat symptoms didn’t particularly surprise Taehyung, but it definitely complicated things a little. Now that you were less distracted by everything and getting the space you needed from being home, without cameras constantly trained on you, you noticed almost immediately, increasing the amount of groceries you bought and making other small adjustments to make it easier for him.

These days you accompanied him to the studio more often than not, and somewhat ironically, it was Namjoon who was the most grateful to see you there. Even though you still seemed a little uncomfortable around him, refusing to make eye contact and getting jumpy whenever he walked past your chair or came too close, you were also careful to keep an eye on Taehyung, intervening whenever it looked like Taehyung was getting too hostile. Without your presence, he was sure that the comeback prep would have fallen apart ages ago. It wasn’t the first time you’d mediated fights between the boys, but Taehyung had never been so angry for so long before.

As Taehyung stormed out of the studio where they were practicing the choreography, citing his frustration with Namjoon’s inability to get the dance moves right as the reason he needed a break, you winced as you stood up and bowed deeply to the others in apology. “His preheat is making him irritable,” you explained. “I’m so sorry, I’ll talk to him after his heat passes and he’s more level-headed.”

The others made various noises of assent and/or irritation, but they all accepted that Taehyung’s behavior was just going to get more irrational until his heat was over. As hybrids themselves, they were more than familiar with the havoc that the heat wreaked on their emotions.

Turning, you ran after Taehyung, finally finding him in the empty recording booth. He was seated on the couch, his elbows propped on his thighs and his face buried in his hands. When he heard you come in, he didn’t even react.

“Hey,” you said softly, coming to sit next to him. “You doing okay there?”

“No,” Taehyung grumped. “And you probably shouldn’t sit this close to me, either.” Your scent had been distracting him all day, and the sexual frustration added to his existing anger towards Namjoon. He probably shouldn’t have snapped, but he was still so angry at the older man for meddling.

Ignoring him, you rubbed his back soothingly. You’d gotten a lot better about physical contact, and while he was grateful that you seemed to be moving past your trauma quite well, it really wasn’t helping. One consequence of the delayed heat seemed to be that the heat symptoms were coming on a lot faster and more intense, and he didn’t really trust himself around you anymore. Even your comforting touch was making heat coil in his belly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you suggested.

“I’m just mad at Namjoon-hyung, that’s all,” Taehyung explained sulkily. “I don’t know why you aren’t more upset with him. He literally told you to kill yourself.”

“Okay, first of all, no he didn’t,” you said firmly. “He just said that was the only way he’d found to break the imprint, and he told me explicitly not to do it.” You might not be pleased with Namjoon for what he’d said to you when you were in a fragile state, but still, you didn’t want Taehyung to get the wrong idea. Namjoon had meant well, after all, and besides, Taehyung still had to work with him, and they were brothers.

“Secondly, I was the one who sought him out and asked him. And you know he’s just looking out for you. You weren’t happy about the imprint either and he thought he was being helpful.”

“I guess,” Taehyung grunted. He hated how much sense you were making. He still wanted to be angry with Namjoon, especially since it was giving him another outlet for all the nervous, pent-up energy he had inside him.

“Besides, he gave you information when you asked for it, right? It would have been unfair for him to not tell me when I asked too.” Seeing him start to cave, you snuggled closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “I’m not saying you have to forgive him or anything. You’re allowed to feel how you want to feel. Just be a little more patient with him, okay? He was just trying to look out for you, and he made a mistake. It happens to all of us.”

With your scent in his head and your body pressed up against his, Taehyung lost all sense of reason as he turned his head, caught your chin in his hand, and kissed you. His lips were soft as they moved against yours, but you were completely frozen, your mind blanking at the unexpected kiss. It was only when Taehyung brought his other hand up to cradle your face as he started to deepen the kiss that you regained your senses, pushing him away by his shoulders.

You stared at each other for a second, neither of you sure of what to say. You were sure the shock was written across your face clearly, while Taehyung just looked slightly confused, his eyes still heavy-lidded. Then you could see the awareness trickle back into Taehyung’s gaze and his ears started turning red.

“Fuck!” he exploded, standing up. “Fuck, Y/n, I’m so sorry, I—” For a second longer, he just stood there, then he made an abrupt turn and ran out of the room.

Damn. You ran your fingers over your lower lip thoughtfully. You hadn’t been kissed for a long time – the Big Bang boys hadn’t been big on that – and it seemed you’d missed it. There’d been some initial anxiety when he kissed you, and your mind had short-circuited for a second, but right before you pushed him away… you’d started to enjoy it, just a little.

Huh.

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“Hey, Y/n?” Taehyung said suddenly, breaking the silence that the two of you had been stuck in since leaving the studio. That had been one of the most awkward car rides you’d ever experienced, but every time you wanted to say something, you looked over at Taehyung and his troubled frown stopped you. He really was awful at hiding his feelings.

You looked up from your dinner, happy that he was finally talking to you again. “Yeah?”

“Maybe it would be a good idea for you to go stay with Yoongi until my heat is over,” Taehyung said, fiddling with his stew and refusing to look up at you. He’d been castigating himself about what he’d allowed to happen ever since he left you behind in the recording booth, and feeling lower and lower the more he thought about it. This was the only way to make sure you were safe from him, he figured. He’d promised to protect you, and that included from himself.

You frowned. “But your heat isn’t here yet, is it?”

Some awkward throat-clearing and foot-shuffling later, he admitted, “It’s coming on really strong this time, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry about earlier, but I can’t guarantee that it won’t happen again if you stay here.”

Here it was. You swallowed and put down your chopsticks, lining them up with your thumb on the edge to buy some time. You’d been thinking about this ever since he left, and you weren’t quite sure whether this was the right decision to make, but you wanted to anyway. Taehyung had been there for you every step of the way, not just throughout this whole year-long nightmare, but before that too, and remembering how amazing he’d been throughout it all, even though it had to have hurt him to know how much trouble you were having because of him made something flutter in your tummy.

“I don’t want to go.” Now that the words were out in the open, you looked up through your lashes, sneaking a peek at Taehyung’s reaction. Would he be happy? Excited? Turned on? The anticipation made your stomach clench.

“Y/n…” Taehyung sounded slightly irritated now, and that wasn’t what you’d been hoping for. “Thank you for your trust in my restraint, but please go. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want,” he begged.

“Maybe… I do want it,” you suggested. Your voice was barely a whisper and the words had come out so fast a normal human would never have been able to make it out, but you knew Taehyung would have no problem with that.

As he gaped helplessly at you, you felt a thrill of satisfaction. There it was, the reaction you’d been hoping for. “A-are you sure?” he asked, and you felt a pang of fondness for him. He was always doing his best to look out for you, even at his own expense. If anything, it made you more certain of your decision.

“I’m sure, Tae-oppa.” Then you realized that he might not be willing to do this with a human and quickly backtracked. “I mean, only if you want to too! If you don’t want to be with a human—”

“No,” Taehyung interrupted. “I do, I…” Emotion seemed to overwhelm him for a second, before he composed himself. “Do you know what you’re agreeing to?” he asked, just to be sure. He didn’t think he would be able to restrain himself if you were here with him during his heat.

You smiled at him and reached across the table to scratch his ears. “I do,” you told him with a soft smile, as his eyes closed in enjoyment. He’d always enjoyed this, you thought fondly, and he was so handsome like this, with his features relaxed. He’d spent a lot of time frowning in the past year.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and when he opened his eyes, you saw such profound gratefulness shining in them. You wondered if he saw the same thing in your gaze.

----------------------------------

Now that he had permission, it was like a switch had flipped in Taehyung. He insisted on helping you do the dishes that night, which was usual, but he decided that he absolutely had to stand shoulder to shoulder with you in front of the sink, helping you rinse the dishes and place them on the drying rack after you’d scrubbed them with dishwashing liquid. When you were done, he stood behind you as you rinsed your hands off and wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his nose in your hair.

When you went to bed with him, he snuggled up to you like he used to before everything happened, dragging his nose across the pulse point in your neck to scent you as he wrapped himself around you. It didn’t take you long to realise just how restrained he’d been in terms of physical contact, letting you initiate more often than not and only touching you casually and fleetingly when he did reach out to you.

Still, you could tell that he was holding himself back, not wanting to overwhelm you with the sheer extent of his heat-driven desire for you. In the mornings, though you could feel his boner pressing into your ass, he just rolled away when he woke up without you saying anything. Neither of you quite talked about the inevitability of his approaching heat and what it meant that you’d agreed to spend it with him, but the tension between you was thick enough to cut with a knife. Taehyung still tried his best to be respectful of your need for distance, though, keeping all physical contact – well, if not platonic, at least affectionate more than overtly sexual.

You could tell it was taking a toll on him, though, and now that you were aware and looking out for the signs, you wondered how it was that you’d been so oblivious last year when he’d been struggling through his preheat. You had to stop going to the studio with him because he was having a hard time focusing on anything when you were around and would often just stare at you instead, which had earned him a few questioning looks from the other boys.

Now that you’d agreed to spend his heat with him, Taehyung’s wolf was finally satisfied after over a year of being in conflict with his rational side, and it felt indescribably good, like puzzle pieces falling into place. He hadn’t even realized how agonizing it had been to hold himself apart from you, like trying to tear the two halves of his psyche apart. His wolf reveled in every touch, every flirtatious look and smile that you sent his way, puffing up proudly every time he saw you. It was a little embarrassing, since Taehyung knew that it was ridiculous to feel that way, but he couldn’t help it. Now that he didn’t have to fight the imprint, it settled into place in his chest warmly, making him feel like he could take on the world. For the first time in years, he actually found himself looking forward to his heat.

As his heat drew ever closer, Taehyung, ruled by his baser instincts, allowed himself to indulge in you. Casual cuddling on the couch while watching TV turned into lazy makeout sessions, which inevitably ended with him lying on top of you, your tongues sliding against each other lewdly while he tried his best not to grind against you. More than once, he’d had to excuse himself abruptly while you lay, dazed and flushed, on the couch, trying to recover and feeling bereft from the loss of his warmth.

This time, Taehyung was well-prepared for his heat, taking time off instead of going to work like a fool like he had last year, so when he woke up one morning and felt the familiar full-body ache that meant his heat was coming, he didn’t have to do anything but pull you closer to him. He knew you were awake from the sharp intake of breath you’d taken when you felt his erection rubbing against your ass, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel all that embarrassed about the way he was basically grinding against you.

“Y/n…” he groaned, his hands sliding up your shirt greedily to feel you up.

“Tae-oppa,” you gasped, and he made a noise low in his throat in response. He liked that, he decided. In his heat-addled state, he wasn’t capable of much complex thought, but he was definitely more than capable of making you scream his name.

However, your priorities were very different from Taehyung’s. As you gradually gained consciousness to Taehyung manhandling you, it occurred to you how nasty your breath was – and how bad his was as well, probably. Knowing that you might not have a chance to brush your teeth for hours if you let him start now, you tried your best to wriggle away from him to get to the bathroom.

“No,” he whined against your neck. “What are you doing?”

“I wanna brush my teeth,” you complained. Thankfully, his heat had just started and he hadn’t lost all sense of reason yet, so he let you go, though he was sulky when you turned back to look at him.

“Come on,” you coaxed with your hand out for him to take, rolling your eyes at his pouty expression. He looked just like a child that had had his favourite toy taken away. Still, he was pliant and obedient, and you even managed to convince him to brush his own teeth too.

“Do you want breakfast?” you asked as Taehyung was rinsing his mouth out. The bathroom door was open, and you were leaning against the wall right outside the door. He wasn’t very vocal this morning, but then he usually wasn’t a morning person anyway, so you didn’t think too much of it.

At your question, his entire demeanor changed. “No,” he growled. “I don’t want fucking breakfast.” He took the couple of steps to you, his long legs eating up the distance, then he was on you, pushing you back into the wall as his mouth descended on yours.

You’d been kissed like this only once before, a year ago during Taehyung’s last heat. He was ravenous, one hand cupping your cheek as his other gripped your hip urgently, sliding around your back to press you closer to him. As his tongue slid against your bottom lip, you let out a small moan as heat rushed through your lower belly. The sound only spurred him to deepen the kiss further. All those makeout sessions on the couch had nothing on this.

Taehyung’s urgency was contagious, and you hooked your fingers in his pajama pants to pull his hips closer to you, reveling in the feel of his erection prodding at your belly. He started grinding it against you, detaching his lips from yours to pant. “Fuck,” he gasped, shuddering. “You smell so fucking good.” Then his lips were back on yours again, his hand diving into your pants.

As much as you were enjoying this, you didn’t particularly want to be fucked against a wall, at least not for your first time. (You decided to put a pin in it to revisit later.) “Tae-oppa,” you gasped as his fingers ghosted over your clit through your panties. “We should go back to the bedroom.”

He pulled back, clearly displeased with the idea of any more delays, but couldn’t fault your logic, so he lifted you off the ground and carried you back to his room. The casual display of strength was more arousing than you could have imagined, and you felt the wetness slipping out of you as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Fuck,” Taehyung said again, gripping you more tightly. He couldn’t get back to the bed fast enough now, and one hand slid down to your ass to hold you close to him as he sped up.

Unwilling to part from you for even a second, he fell with you onto the bed, almost crushing you beneath his weight as he kissed you again, a filthy mess of lips and tongues that made both of you moan. He separated from you for just long enough to pull your camisole over your head, although you definitely heard it rip – not that you were overly concerned about it, however, when he was sliding his big hands over your body to grope your tits.

In retaliation, you stuck your hand down his pants. He wasn’t wearing underwear, which was very typical of him, and you smiled against his lips as you wrapped your hand around his dick and he shuddered in response. It felt so good to finally have a cock in your hand again, all warm and hard and throbbing.

Bracing his knees on the bed on either side of your hips, Taehyung lifted himself off you to tug your remaining clothes off, taking your panties and sweatpants in one fell swoop. You continued jerking him off almost lazily, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes.

With you now naked, the scent of your arousal permeated the air, driving Taehyung crazy. He had to have more of it, and it was that thought that guided him to shift so that he was between your legs, pushing them further apart to reveal your soft, wet pussy, all shiny from how turned on you were. It made his mouth water and his cock throb between his legs.

“Shit,” he breathed quietly, his eyes completely fixated on what lay between your legs. His unabashed scrutiny was starting to make you feel a little self-conscious, and you started to bring your legs together, but he stopped you with his hands on your inner thighs and a warning look.

“Tae-oppa,” you whined, throwing an arm over your eyes to hide. “Stop staring.”

“Okay,” he agreed absently. It wasn’t a difficult promise to make, he thought as he lowered his head. There was so much more he wanted to do to you.

The first swipe of his tongue across your slit had you shivering. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned before he dove back in with gusto, using broad strokes of his tongue to scoop up all the juices leaking from you before circling your clit. He teased you with light, kittenish licks that you honestly wouldn’t have expected from someone clearly so wrecked, and he moaned like you were doing him a favour by letting him eat you out.

It was all too easy for him to build you up to the brink of orgasm, his heightened senses allowing him to take note of every sigh, whimper and moan that you emitted as he found all your best spots. With his fingers in you rubbing against your g-spot and his lips suckling on your clit, it wasn’t long before you were lifting your hips off the bed, thrashing as you came ever closer to the edge.

“Please, Tae, pleasepleaseplease—” you moaned, cutting yourself off with a choked cry as you felt the tension in your lower belly snap beautifully. You clenched hard on his fingers as you came, your slick dripping out of you and down his hand. When the waves of pleasure buffeting your entire system stopped, you opened your eyes and blinked at him lazily with a small smile.

Taehyung, on the other hand, stared down at you with intense bedroom eyes as he lifted his hand – the one that just been inside you – to his mouth and cleaned your juices off with his tongue, keeping eye contact the entire time. You couldn’t help but feel a frisson of arousal snake through your core again at the clear intent in his gaze.

“Tae…” you held your arms out for him invitingly, and he groaned as he bent to kiss you, one hand planted into the mattress next to your head for balance while he worked his way out of his pajama pants with the other. Too impatient to take them off fully, he left them bunched around his knees as he shuffled closer to you, stroking his erection with his hand.

“’m gonna fuck you now,” he mumbled against your lips as he lined the tip of his cock up with your folds. You held your breath in anticipation – despite everything that had happened, including your brief dalliance earlier this year, the two of you had never actually done this before. You found yourself tensing up as he started pushing his way into you, making him groan at the increased tightness and friction.

“Relax for me, love,” he mumbled, his breath washing against your temple. You whimpered, locking your arms and legs around him and clinging on for dear life. Slowly, biting your lip, you concentrated on doing what he said, and he huffed in pleasure as he sank further into you. You were wet enough that even though you were tight around him, it didn’t really burn, the stretch and fullness teetering on the edge between pleasure and pain.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me,” Taehyung praised, stopping to kiss you. Compared to what you were currently in the midst of, this kiss was gentle and chaste, intended to comfort you. It was somewhat surprising – based on what he’d told you and what you’d observed, you’d expected him to be out of control, unable to focus on anything other than his own pleasure. This considerate, gentle side of Taehyung wasn’t one you’d expected to see until the initial wave had subsided and he could think more coherently.

That wasn’t to say, of course, that you didn’t notice the strain this slow pace was taking on him – he was sucking marks almost viciously into your neck, his teeth catching on your skin almost threateningly, and his whole frame was wound so tight that he was almost trembling. You felt the tension in his shoulders and back, and you stroked his side soothingly, although from the way the muscles under your hand jumped, he didn’t appreciate the meaning behind the gesture.

When he finally bottomed out, you let out the breath you’d been holding as he groaned, holding himself painfully still. He could feel every ripple as you clenched and fidgeted under him, trying to get used to having him inside of you, and it was sorely testing his control. “Y/n, please,” he finally groaned. “Please stay still.”

Instead of doing as he said, you clenched as hard as you could around him, delighting in the shaky groan he let out as he dropped his head, his forehead brushing against your collarbone. “Fuck,” he huffed, reaching down to hook his arms behind your thighs and draping your legs over his shoulders. “I tried to be nice,” he grumbled as he pulled his hips back.

“Fuck being nice,” you purred as you hooked your arms around his neck, one hand finding its way into his hair.

That was the last straw, and all the impressive control Taehyung had been showing up till now shattered spectacularly as he started a brisk pace with his hips, folding you almost in half with his frame. You really didn’t have any clue just how much he was holding back until he stopped, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it as he plowed into you with everything he had.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he huffed, his breath making the baby hairs by your temple flutter. The bedsprings were creaking and the headboard thumping against the wall, but neither of you could bring yourself to care. All of Taehyung’s energy was being channeled into fucking you as hard and as fast as he could, his mind solely focused on the race to the finish. He was going to fill you up so good, you’d be dripping with his cum for days, finally getting those vile human men’s scent out of you…

The thought was endlessly titillating to him, and when he looked down to where you were joined, putting a visual image to the filthy thoughts swirling in his head, he bared his teeth in a snarl. The sight of his cock splitting you in half, shiny from your juices was almost too much for him, but he couldn’t look away.

Taehyung had never looked more like an animal than he did right now, completely focused on fucking your brains out, but instead of being afraid, his fucked out expression sent a shiver through you – the good kind, of course. You wanted to cum with him, but in his current state, he wasn’t focusing on your pleasure, so you snuck a hand between your joined bodies to rub at your clit.

As close as he was to orgasm, the sight of you pleasuring yourself filled him with irrational fury. His wolf howled, demanding that he take care of his mate, and completely under its sway now, he batted your hand away with a growl. “You’re mine,” he snapped as he took over, rubbing your clit with the rough pad of his thumb.

“Cum with me,” he groaned into your ear before he kissed you. He was too far gone to do it properly, of course, basically just pressing his open mouth against yours in a filthy imitation of a kiss, but he still managed to retain the presence of mind to tilt his hips slightly to adjust the angle with which he was pounding into you so that he could brush against your g-spot. The increased stimulation made you wail as you tried your best to move with him despite your limited leverage.

“Fuck, Taehyung,” you huffed, trying to warn him as your hips jerked slightly, pressing your clit harder against his thumb to get that little bit more that you needed to cum. And then it was happening, your mind blanking out as you squeezed his cock tightly, clenching rhythmically as you worked through the waves of your orgasm.

As he heard and felt you cum around him, Taehyung groaned like he was dying and redoubled his efforts, his hips now basically a blur with how fast and hard he was thrusting into you. “Fuck, Y/n, yes,” he groaned breathlessly as he finally came, pushing himself as deep as he could and grinding against you for that extra bit of friction to make his orgasm last just a little longer.

When it was over, he slumped down over your body, letting go of your legs so that you could wriggle them out from under him to wrap them around his hips, a far more comfortable position for you. He felt boneless, so utterly satisfied that he would never need anything again, although he knew that was definitely not true. In about ten minutes, he’d be ready to go again.

For now, though, he was happy to just fuss over you, nuzzling into your cheek and brushing your sweaty, matted hair away from your face. “You’re so pretty,” he sighed blissfully, bracing himself over you with his elbows as he leaned down to kiss you. The urgency was temporarily gone now, and he traded soft, slow kisses with you, feeling so happy his heart could burst.

“I love you,” he blurted out unintentionally, and your eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t know where it had come from either, but now that it was out there, he realized that he meant it. No one had ever made him feel so good – not just physically, of course, but so at peace with the world. When he was with you, everything felt so right, so perfect, like you’d been made for him and he’d been made for you. If that wasn’t love, what was?

You raised your hand to cup his face, brushing your thumb across his lips. The way he looked at you, searching, hopeful, made your heart clench. Taehyung always made you feel so safe, so protected, like nothing could ever touch you. Being with him felt like being free from the difficulties of life that lay outside his bubble of protection. If that wasn’t love, what was?

Smiling back at him, you told him, “I love you too.”

#btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #plotsofpastel #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #ur-net #smutcentralnet #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #kim taehyung #bts smut #taehyung smut #bts scenarios #bts fic #hybrid bts #hybrid taehyung #dont ask dont tell

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rookie-ramsey · 4 years ago

Text

Last Night Alive (Ethan X MC)

Description: What if Ethan was in that room? AU to chapters 10-11.

Warning: Major character death(s).

Rating: T

Word count: 4,687

Art by @churning-the-sea-of-milk

“Stand back! I mean it!”

Travis’s voice echoed in the room, making everyone freeze in their steps.

From the bed, Ed spoke up. “Travis, please… think about what you’re doing…”

“It’s not over… not yet…” Even as Travis’s voice lowered in volume, it did nothing to lessen the threat of the situation.

Olivia found her voice, willing herself to sound more confident than she felt. “Killing Ed won’t bring your brother back.”

Travis turned his icy glare on her. “You think I don’t know that? I tried to move past Johnny’s death for years, but it destroyed my family. My parents. Me.”

“Travis, let’s talk about this…” she urged, taking a deep breath and keeping a stoic expression plastered on her face.

Travis shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about. If I leave this place, I’m going to jail. So I might as well die and take Ed with me.”

Olivia’s pulse quickened with panic. Her eyes glanced to the canister in the aide’s hand. “Travis, what’s in that can?”

“Justice,” Travis snapped. His arm trembled as his finger tightened around the canister’s trigger. Slowly, he lifted the can.

“Travis, for god’s sake!” Ed interrupted. “You’ll get someone killed.”

“Like you got my brother killed?”

“What…?”

“My brother is dead because of your cost-cutting, backroom deals. He was just a kid-- I went to sleep every night for years dreaming of how I’d make you pay… I planned this for years.”

Olivia gasped when he whirled around to face her. His steely eyes met hers as his face curled into a scowl.

“It didn't have to be this way. You could've just let him die. You heard his phone call. You knew what kind of man he was.”

“I’m a doctor, Travis. I had to do my job.”

“Olivia is right, Travis. Come along with me. Let’s end this thing.” Bobby reached for Travis. Travis’s finger squeezed the trigger, releasing a spray directly into the security guard’s face.”

“No!” Olivia knelt next to his side and pressed her fingers to Bobby’s neck. “Travis, this has to stop now. He’s going into cardiac arrest!”

She reached for the defibrillator, but Travis raised the can again. Rage contorted his features as he aimed the nozzle directly at her.

“It didn’t have to be this way.”

Before his finger pressed the trigger, strong arms pushed her out of the canister’s direct line of fire.

She heard a hissing sound as the can’s contents deployed into the air. In the commotion, the door slammed shut as Ed fled the room.

Olivia felt a light mist land on her hands. A second later, her skin tingled and the smell made her throat tickle. Olivia raised her head to meet Ethan’s eyes. Her stomach dropped when the light reflected the clear oily sheen clinging to his skin.

“Ethan… what do we do?”

Ethan returned her worried gaze. “I don’t know.”

At his words, her stomach churned. She coughed, trying to ease the itch in her throat. The canister sputtered as the last of its contents spilled into the air. Her eyes travelled, falling on Bobby’s fallen form.

If the can’s contents had triggered immediate cardiac arrest, she couldn’t fathom what was inside it. Her only reassurance came from the fact that she and Ethan were younger and not exposed to a full blast straight to the face, but there was no denying the severity of the situation.

“All I know is we can’t leave or open the door. They’ll need to have this floor evacuated and the vents sealed.”

“Right.” She nodded tightly and stole a glance through the window, where a crowd already gathered. She pressed the button on her pager, gripping it tightly to stop her fingers from shaking.

A minute later, Baz and June worked through the crowd. Ethan held a hand against the door.

“Travis released some sort of chemical into the room. Get every patient moved off of this floor. We also need to call the CDC and Naveen. Nobody can come in or out until we know what this is.”

“Oh god…” Baz blanched. “How are you two?”

Olivia stood next to Ethan at the window. “We’re fine right now, but Bobby took a full blast to the face. Whatever’s in that can triggered cardiac arrest. All we know is it’s dangerous. We didn’t get as much on us, but it’s in the air.”

“We’ll get the patients taken care of and make those calls. You two hang in there.”

Olivia nodded and stepped back. She glanced across the room, where Travis curled up on the floor, shaking. Glancing away, she turned her focus to the window and watched as every staff member on the floor helped in getting patients moved.

A shaky smile crossed her features. “Not how I planned on spending a Friday afternoon.”

Ethan gave a tight smile in return. “Me neither.”

She took a deep breath and reached for his hand. After a couple of seconds, he returned the grip. Left with nothing else to do, they let quiet fall between them as they waited.

XXXXXX

Olivia had to glance at the clock on the wall to remind herself it had only been a little over an hour.

They’d since changed into hospital gowns. Olivia scratched at her wrists, trying to rid herself of the itch that wouldn’t leave no matter how many times she’d scrubbed her hands.

Her eyes drifted, fixating on the spot where Bobby’s body had lain. The CDC had removed Bobby and Travis, but it didn’t make the room feel any safer.

A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed hard and looked away. She stopped pacing a few feet in front of Ethan and glanced at him.

“Are you having any symptoms?”

“No.” Ethan shook his head, but his hesitation betrayed him. Olivia narrowed her eyes at him and he sighed. “A sore throat, headache, and mild nausea.”

“I only have a sore throat. You were exposed to a lot more of it.” Her worried expression gave way to an accusatory frown. “What were you thinking?”

Ethan hesitated. He inhaled sharply and ran his fingers through his hair. “I saw that he was aiming for you and I did what I had to lessen your exposure.”

“And by doing that, you put yourself in danger!”

“Once they determine what this is, they’ll know what antidote to use. You’re…. We’re going to be fine.”

The worry didn’t leave her eyes. “I thought you didn’t believe in false hope.”

Ethan fell silent for a long moment. His hand found hers and squeezed lightly. “I don’t. But right now, I’m choosing to believe that they can figure out what this is. My symptoms aren’t severe, at least not yet.”

Olivia’s eyes wandered, focusing on their hands. She laced her fingers through his. “I just hope you’re right.”

“I hope so, too.”

She fell silent, unsure of what to say next. For now, all they could do was wait and hope that there was an answer.

It was just a matter of time.

XXXXXX

Night fell and they were no closer to having an antidote than they were hours ago.

All they knew was they’d been exposed to a deadly maitotoxin with no known cure, and the clock reminded them of just how fast time was running out.

Olivia stifled a cough and glanced over at Ethan. He didn’t announce when new symptoms started, but he didn’t need to tell her for her to know that the effects were progressing.

A slowly tightening pressure weighed on her throat and chest in addition to the painful pulse in her head. Ethan tried to keep his discomfort hidden, but she saw through it. With the amount he’d been exposed to, his symptoms were inevitably progressing faster than hers.

“How are you feeling? And don’t try to make it sound better than it is to avoid worrying me. I’m way past that point,” she cautioned.

He leaned heavily against the window, gazing into the night. “It’s… uncomfortable. Very much so,” he admitted, his voice hoarse with the hints of a wheeze.

Olivia slipped her hand into his. She bit her lip as she looked him up and down. Even in the dim light, she could make out the paleness of his skin and his red-rimmed eyes. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead even as a chill coursed through his body.

A glimpse of her reflection in the window told her she didn’t look much better and she tried to crack a smile. “Deadly poison isn’t a good look for us. We look like we haven’t slept since 2009.”

A somber smile curled his lips. “I don’t have any arguments against that.”

“You? No arguments?” She shook her head and tried to laugh, but it fell short. She joined Ethan at the window and tentatively rested her hand on his arm. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. I know it’s pointless.”

Ethan turned to face her. Her heart skipped a beat when his eyes softened, gazing at her with eyes more tender than she’d seen before. He hesitated before speaking, his voice low.

“I… I don’t know how this is going to work out,” he agreed. The affection in his eyes flickered into wistful yearning, along with fear she knew he was trying to mask. “And I want to say I’m glad you’re here, but if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“I was here first. You didn’t drag me into this. It would have happened to anyone who was in this room today.” Her voice quavered and she took a deep breath to steady it.

Wordlessly, Ethan settled his hands on her waist. He closed the distance between them and silenced her with a dizzying kiss. Olivia paused for just a moment before she gave into the longing and cupped his face in her hands.

Her heart skipped when Ethan deepened the kiss. His hands gently tugged her closer until their chests touched. After several moments, their lips parted and she touched her forehead to his.

Olivia opened her eyes to meet Ethan’s. She shivered at the longing he didn’t even try to hide. “Ethan…?”

He took her hand into his and squeezed tight. “I… I felt like I needed to do that.”

Hearing the unspoken reason, Olivia tightened her grip on him. She brushed her thumb against his stubble. “Promise me something.”

“What is it?”

“Promise me you’re not giving up. Promise me we’ll do that again. Please?”

Ethan’s throat tightened. He didn’t respond right away. His jaw clenched as he glanced away, blinking his eyes against the threat of tears. How could he make a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep?

“I can’t do that.”

Olivia shook her head. “Ethan, promise me. Even if you feel like you can’t mean it, I need to hear it. Please?”

He returned his focus to her. His expression faltered when he took in the pleading in her eyes. “I… I promise,” he relented, the lie making his chest constrict with guilt.

Nodding shakily, Olivia leaned up and kissed him again. Ethan closed his eyes and sank into her, taking solace in the tenderness even if he knew the comfort wouldn’t last.

“You… should lie down,” she whispered when he leaned into her. “You need to rest.”

Before he could protest, she took his elbow and gently steered him toward the bed. Olivia urged him to lie down and pulled the thin blanket over him. Her hand brushed against his clammy cheek.

“Here.” Ethan edged over and patted the empty space next to him. Without hesitation, she occupied it, turning onto her side and lying next to him.

“Are you sure you’ll be comfortable this way?”

Ethan nodded. He shifted onto his side so they faced each other. He leaned closer and cupped her cheek in his hand. “I’m sure. If this is my last night alive, I want you next to me.”

Tears threatened to fill her eyes, but she blinked them back. “I’d want the same.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but there was a sadness to it. His fingers laced through hers. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

“Mm hmm.” Nodding, she touched her forehead to his. “I… I hope we have more time.”

“I do, too.” Ethan let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “But there’s no antidote. If they find one, it might not be soon enough.”

She shivered at the weight of the truth behind his words. There was no cure for the toxin, and even if some medical miracle led to one, it almost certainly wouldn’t be in time for either of them.

“I know I should try to think of something happy, but all I can think about is what I should’ve done differently. Things I didn’t do that I should have.”

“Like what?” Ethan’s thumb brushed a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

“I should have travelled more. Loved more. I spent a decade of my life focusing on my grades, on my job. I turned down opportunities so I could study. I kept my heart on guard because I never knew if I’d be in the same city the next year.”

Ethan nodded softly and gently smoothed his hand over her hair. “Since we’re sharing regrets, do you mind if I share one of mine?”

“Go ahead.”

He bit his lip, hesitating. “I wish I hadn’t asked you to stay away.”

“You do?”

“We’ve wasted so much time.” Ethan paused, shaking his head to correct himself. “I’ve wasted so much time. I should have held you in my arms every day and told you much I… how much I care about you.”

Her eyes softened with affection as she took in what he left unspoken. “I… I always thought we should be together,” she admitted.

“Yeah?”

She nodded. The genuine happiness in his eyes made her eyes blur with tears. Her smile trembled as she wiped them away. “Even though I was… am a colossal pain in the ass and I like to get under your skin, all the time we’ve spent together… it just made me want to be with you.”

This close, she could feel his chest rumble comfortingly when he let out a quiet laugh. The worry in his eyes faded, giving way to something sweeter.

For the moment, Ethan let go of the magnitude of their situation. He smiled gently. “The feeling was very definitively mutual. When… if we get out of here, I don’t want to waste more time.”

She chuckled, blinking back fresh tears. “If we survive, I’m holding you to that. I expect a romantic date and everything. No changing your mind.”

Ethan let out another laugh, this one weaker. He blinked, forcing his eyes to stay open against the heaviness of his eyelids. “I wouldn’t. Not again.”

“I know.” She fell silent. Then she looked up again. “Ethan?”

“Hmm?”

“You mean a lot to me. In more ways than one. You’ve helped me become the doctor I am today. I just want you to hear that.”

His expression softened. “I know.”

“I came to Edenbrook to work under you. I never thought we’d fall for each other. But then I met you and even though you were an ass sometimes, I still fell for you. I never thought you’d reciprocate it.”

“I did.” Ethan’s voice softened. “And I hope that you know I’m sorry for being an ass when I first met you.”

“Well, you did teach me a lot. If you’d coddled me, I wouldn’t be the doctor I am. Was. I’m still not sure about that part.”

Ethan’s smile faded into a sad one. “I’m not, either. But what I do know is that if some breakthrough happens and they find a cure, even if it’s not in time for me, you’ll do great things. You’ll far surpass me.”

Her eyes glistened. She wiped her hand across them and forced a watery smile. “And if a huge breakthrough happens and we both get out of here alive, I’m going to steal your job the day I finish my residency. So watch out.”

Ethan chuckled wistfully. “I don’t doubt that at all.”

Olivia bit her lip and furrowed her brow in thought. Her smile faded as she remembered that could have been wouldn’t happen. The reality gripped her heart painfully, and for a moment she couldn’t find the words to say.

“I just… I just wish we could see it happen. I know we won’t be making it out of here.”

He didn’t respond right away. Ethan had known for hours that they wouldn’t have enough time, but hearing the words out loud magnified their gravity. He swallowed hard and nodded slightly.

“I… I think you’re right.” Ethan wanted to will himself not to believe his own words. He couldn’t, not anymore. Time wouldn’t slow down to allow a medical miracle for a toxin with no cure.

All they could do was delay the inevitable. Until now, Ethan hadn’t recognized the cold enormity of his own words. Now time was running out and he realized how little the words helped. Life didn’t follow a set of rules, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that everything did.

When he met Olivia’s eyes again, her stomach twisted at the sight of tears. Ethan cleared his throat and gently tilted her face toward his. He brushed his lips against hers, the tenderness of it making his heart ache with longing he should have acted on sooner.

When their lips parted, his eyes brimmed with tears. His arms looped around her and drew her closer. The walls he’d spent years building fell as he took in the warmth of her body next to his.

His words rolled off his tongue before he could talk himself out of saying them.

“I love you.”

The words hit her with the force of a tidal wave and she inhaled sharply. “I.. I love you, too.”

The tension Ethan didn’t know he was holding left his body. He sighed shallowly. Whether it was from relief or fear, he didn’t know. Maybe saying the three words meant admitting defeat, but he’d be damned if he didn’t let himself say them before it was too late.

“I...I needed… wanted to say that. I wanted to make sure you heard it.”

“I know.” Olivia rested her head on his shoulder. Ethan kept one arm circled around her waist. His other hand gripped hers, their fingers gently intertwined.

Sleep clouded his mind. Refusing to close his eyes, he tightened his hold on her hand.

Olivia smiled wistfully. “You can sleep… I’ll keep an eye on you. I’ll slap you if I think… you know.”

He managed a small chuckle. “I’m trying not to.”

“I know.” Olivia rubbed his hand with her thumb. Taking comfort in the touch, Ethan brought her hand to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles. He blinked against the weight of his eyelids.

Ethan fought the urge as long as he could, but soon the ache in his head won and he slipped into sleep.

It wasn’t much longer before Olivia felt sleep threatening to take her. She refused, not taking her eyes off Ethan’s sleeping form. She rested her head against his chest, taking some reassurance in the gentle rise and fall as he breathed.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed awake or when she closed her eyes, but some time in the night, or maybe it was early morning, she startled awake when Ethan coughed roughly.

Dizzy as she lifted her head, Olivia leaned closer to him. When his eyes opened, she heaved a weak sigh of relief.

“Hey…” she greeted quietly.

Ethan turned his head toward her. The cloudiness and pain in her eyes made her freeze, ice gripping her heart. For the longest moment, neither of them spoke. Finally Ethan coughed and spoke up, his voice rough.

“How long have I been out?”

“I don’t know for sure. I fell asleep.” Her eyes stung and she blinked. “I… I know it’s been a while. I was starting to think…”

Ethan’s thumb brushed against her cheek, wiping away the tear that escaped. “Shh…”

Olivia covered his hand with her own. Haunted by how far he’d declined in those few hours, she closed her eyes for a second before opening them. She gently ran her hand over his hair and forced a tired smile.

It left as Ethan’s eyelids fluttered shut, a weak breath passing his lips.

“No, no... don’t close your eyes. Ethan!” Her voice trembled as the plea barely escaped her swollen throat. Panic tightened her chest when his eyelids fluttered. “Look at me…”

A sharp gasp jolted his body. His lungs tensed, struggling to inhale. Olivia grabbed his hand and squeezed tight.

“Ethan…”

His fingers curled weakly around her hand. Pain twisted his features as another gasp clenched his chest. Even with the oxygen cannula aiding his breathing, his lungs tightened with pressure. His vision clouded, leaving his surroundings a blur.

“It’s… happening...”

Olivia’s heart froze. Anxiety gripped her lungs, sending a tremor down her spine. The unspoken meaning of his words made her heart slow to a crawl. As she tightened her grip on his hand, her head spun.

Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around him. She gently guided his head to her shoulder and combed her fingers through his hair. “I’m right here…”

His chest trembled with sporadic breaths. The pained wheeze behind the ragged gasps clenched her heart. Olivia rested her hand on his chest and rubbed gently. Tears pooled in her eyes. She didn’t try to stop them from escaping as she tightened her hold on Ethan’s weak form.

“I’m right here,” she whispered again. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… just try to relax.”

Ethan tried to contain a shudder. His lungs burned, fighting against his attempts to breathe. Darkness fogged the corners of his eyes. His breaths escaped in short, shallow gasps.

“Shh…” Tightening her arms around him, Olivia squeezed her eyes shut. Tears still slipped through as she continued stroking his hair. His lips parted, but no words formed.

His eyes closed as a weak breath escaped his lips. When he went still in his arms, Olivia froze for several seconds. Her heart pounded against her ribs as her fingers lightly touched the side of his neck, feeling for a pulse. She felt nothing and in that moment, time seemed to hold still.

Her heart beat violently, then slowly. Then the reality hit her all at once and a sob took her breath away. Her body trembled as she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. It wasn’t enough and tears flowed freely.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

She was supposed to spend her day treating patients. She was supposed to end the day at Donahue’s with her roommates. Another tremor wracked her body as she reminded herself that she couldn’t predict the future, that life had a way of crashing down in a moment’s time.

Olivia’s hand trembled as she reached for her pager. She pressed the button and tried to blink back a fresh wave of tears. Her head ached with dizziness as she tried to take a deep breath.

How was she supposed to tell Alan his only son died doing a job that should have been safe?

The thought stopped as soon as it began. All it took was a pained gasp to remind herself that she wasn’t making it out alive.

She wasn’t sure who came into the room or what they said to her. Her surroundings blurred, the voices near her nothing but incomprehensible, distant whispers. When Ethan’s body was removed from the bed, she cried out and buried her face in the pillow, letting her surroundings fade into nothing.

When the door closed, she wasn’t sure how much time passed before it opened again. It could have been minutes, an hour, or several hours; she didn’t know.

“Olivia?”

Through the haze, she faintly recognized Jackie and Sienna in hazmat suits. They sat on either side of the bed.

“Hi,” Jackie greeted softly.

“Hi...” Olivia whispered. Her eyes stung, dry but red and swollen. “Ethan…”

“We heard.” Sienna grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly.

She coughed, wincing when it sent a sharp pain through her chest. “I’m dying…”

Jackie’s face fell. She nodded slightly and blinked back tears. “We tried everything…”

Olivia shook her head. “Don’t blame yourself. Please…”

Sienna’s eyes glistened with tears. She bit her lip and leaned in, gently hugging her. A moment later Jackie joined in and Olivia leaned into them. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt her eyes sting at the realization that this was the last time she’d hug them, that she wouldn’t be going home to their apartment after this was all over.

“We love you,” Sienna whispered, burying her face in her best friend’s shoulder.

“I love you guys, too…”

Jackie sniffled and hugged her again before she pulled back. She cleared her throat and let out a shaky breath. “We… we just wanted to see you. I think the scalpel jockey wants to see you, too.”

“Send him in…” Olivia released Sienna, feeling her heart twist painfully at the tears in her eyes. Jackie put her arm around Sienna and led the way out of the room.

A few minutes later, the door opened again.

Olivia groggily as someone else made their way into the room. As her bleary eyes adjusted, she made out Bryce’s features through the plastic hazmat helmet. “Hey…”

“Hey.” Bryce leaned over the bed and hugged her as tightly as he dared. Then he grabbed a chair and moved it closer to her bed. He sat down in it and gave her a grin, but she could see the sadness behind it. “I thought you might want some company.”

“I do…” she murmured, nodding shakily. A rough sigh escaped her when her throat swelled. “I… I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

“We can’t all come in here at once, but everyone’s out in the hall. If they had enough hazmat suits, we’d be surrounding you.”

She laughed quietly. “I’m sure… I just hope everyone knows… how much they mean to me…��

“Yeah? Tell me your favorite thing about everyone.”

Olivia thought, the pain leaving her eyes for a second. “Jackie’s the toughest woman I know. She may like to compete with me at everything, but… she always has my back. She’d throw hands for me any time…. any time I needed it.”

He smirked. “That sounds about right.”

She continued, grateful for the brief distraction. “Aurora is the friend I didn’t know I needed… selfless, caring… Elijah and Sienna are the sweetest people I’ve ever met…”

“Am I chopped liver or something?” Bryce teased.

Her lips flickered into the ghost of a smile. “You’re okay, I guess... a little dorky, but you’re one of the first and... most loyal friends I’ve met here. You’re always there when… I need a friend… or an accomplice.”

“That’s better.” Bryce paused, trying not to let his smile fade as he extended a gloved hand toward her. Olivia took it, weakly curling her fingers around his hand.

A sharp pain shot through her stomach. Olivia winced, a gasp catching in her throat. Her weak grip on Bryce’s hand tightened almost unnoticeably. The pained breath she released made her lungs wheeze as the pressure worsened.

“I’m… I’m glad you’re here…”

Bryce nodded, his eyes glistening. “You’re my best friend. I wasn’t about to let you be alone right now.”

“Thank you…” Her voice lowered to a whisper, almost lost in a cough so strong it made her head spin. Bryce’s face blurred out of focus and moments later she felt numbness pushing the pain from her body.

Her breathing shallowed to weak gasps. As her eyes slipped shut, she didn’t feel afraid anymore. Surrendering, she let out one last breath.

Note: I’m still not sure how satisfied I am with this. I love writing angst but I feel like it’s not my strength because I don’t know how emotions work. Feedback, please! I may end up deleting and re-writing.

Tags, part 1

@princess-geek / @lapisreviewsstuff / @msjpuddleduck / @silverlitskies / @paulfwesley / @dr-brianna-casey-valentine / @junehiratas / @choicesstanblog / @trappedinfandoms / @justanotherrookie / @bellcat2010 / @desmaranj / @lion-ess24 / @nooruleman / @caseyvalentineramsey / @xee-na / @edith-eggs1 / @oofchoices / @schnitzelbutterfingers / @tefigranger / @jlynn12273 / @laceandlula / @crazy-loca-blog / @somegdchoices / @sanchita012 / @forthebrokenheartedthings / @lilyvalentine / @parkerattano / @drramseysownsme / @misswhit12 / @drethanfreakingramsey / @juneiswriting / @macy-ray85 / @swimmingauthordreamerbonk / @myusualnerdyself / @siaramsey / @takemyopenheart / @queencarb

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #tw: death #death tw

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whatsmyline-pb · 4 years ago

Photo

Saw this for the first time today and just about died. Then this happened:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32013415

(Edit: a big thanks to @stevieshelby for a much better quality picture.)

Alfie Solomons does not run. Ever. Men who run, in his opinion, are silly and weak; either running from or to something and either way showing far too much desperation in doing so. Alfie is a firm believer in acting with as little urgency as possible.

He knows, of course, that most people running are doing so for the sake of exercise. But it’s a bloody foolish way to achieve fitness, if you ask him. Likely does more harm than good, slamming your joints together against hard pavement. Swimming is a much more sensible form of exercise.

Point is, Alfie doesn’t run.

—

Leave it to Tommy Shelby to ruin Alfie’s first true holiday in years. It’s summer and it’s Margate and Alfie is altogether content to let work fade into oblivion and get some much-needed rest. But of course, he can’t get one fucking moments peace before the little prick is calling him, demanding that they meet, that it’s urgent, cannot be discussed over the phone, and what’s Alfie’s rental address, he’ll be there first thing in the morning.

And mornings, right, mornings are sacred to Alfie, especially when on holiday. He likes to take his fucking time, stretch languidly while the last remnants of sleep slip away, stay in bed however long he pleases and not leave a moment sooner. And then, when he deems himself ready to rise, make his way to the terrace with coffee and biscuits and a book and cigar. Greet the day with leisurely intent.

And fuck if he’s gonna let Tommy interfere with that pleasure. So the next day he goes about his morning just as he normally would, and when Tommy pulls up in his sleek Royce he’s just opened his book and taken his first sip of coffee.

“Just come on up, for fucks sake,” he hollers down when Tommy knocks on the front door. Moments later Tommy is standing in front of him, looking incredulous. Or really, looking entirely impassive, if you don’t know him. But Alfie does, so, yes, it’s definitely incredulity swimming behind those flat eyes.

Thing is, another part of Alfie’s morning routine is not getting dressed. Dressing really defeats the point of lounging around, doesn’t it? It’s boxers and a loose robe for him, and there’s nothing like the feeling of the warm morning sun on your bare chest, is there?

“You forget I was coming, Alfie?”

“Naw mate, how could I? Been anxious for my groceries, haven’t I?” He’d texted Tommy as soon as they’d hung up last night, Be a dear and stop by Kosher Kingdom before you leave, followed by a rather extensive grocery list. Just to be a prick, really; hadn’t expected any follow-through. But Tommy’s holding a grocery bag.

“Those ‘em?” He asks and grabs it from him. Tommy pays this no heed.

“You didn't think a business meeting warranted, I don’t know, putting some trousers on? Maybe a shirt?”

“Business meeting? Naw. I’m on fucking holiday, ain’t I?” He says it into the bag, busy shuffling through the contents. Only half his requests are in there. “Where are my bourekas?” He asks, looking up.

Tommy glares at him and pulls out a cigarette. His eyes flit unwittingly over Alfie’s bare torso as he lights it. Alfie suppresses a smug grin.

Could be that not wanting to disrupt his normal routine isn't the only reason Alfie declined to dress for Tommy’s visit. Could be, yeah, that they’ve been in business together for seven months and those seven months have felt like a fucking eternity, all of them spent with Alfie not so secretly lusting after Tommy and Tommy, cunt that he is, determinedly ignoring his advances (even though Alfie is damn sure his desires are reciprocated). So yeah, he stayed half-naked to make a point about holidays and respect and all that, but also to taunt Tommy.

Rather transparent. Could be he’s getting a bit desperate.

“So what’s this big emergency, then? You finally set the factory on fire smoking those godforsaken fags? Tear a hole in that favorite suit of yours, hmm? Someone finally snap and off Arthur? Out with it, treacle.”

Tommy sighs as he slides into the seat opposite Alfie. “How’s it you’re even more fucking irritating on holiday, Alfie?”

Alfie just smiles.

“Alright,” Tommy says, pulling some papers from his briefcase and onto the table. He launches into a story, and Alfie immediately forgets to listen. Thing is, there’s a lot going on in Margate in the summer, even this early in the day. Folks are up and about and Alfie can’t help it if he’s an avid people-watcher. Not really in the headspace for business, is he?

Alfie’s somehow getting away with not paying attention to Tommy when the group of runners pound by. They look equally smug and miserable and he can’t help but mutter, “Ridiculous fucking hobby.”

This stops Tommy mid-sentence. “You hear a word I just fucking said, Alfie?”

Alfie nods. “Yeah, mate, sure. Something about a shipment and a fuck up.”

Tommy’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrow. He looks from Alfie to the runners and to Alfie again. It’s a long, heavy silence. Long enough that Alfie grabs the grocery bag again and begins pawing through it. He can practically feel the annoyance radiating off Tommy.

“You remember when you set me up with that cousin of yours?” Tommy asks, an eternity later.

Alfie can’t help it, he breaks into a toothy grin. He remembers it. Often and fondly. It’s not every day Tommy is in need of a last-minute date for an important business dinner and turns to Alfie for help. And really, Tommy should have known better. Of course, Alfie was going to hire an escort to accompany him, paying her extra to pretend to be his cousin. Of course, he was going to relish the opportunity to fuck with the great Tommy Shelby, delight in the knowledge of him prancing proudly around London with a high-end prostitute on his arm.

Hadn’t expected him to ever find out, at least not until a few years later when he’d randomly decide to let his duplicity slip. Hadn’t anticipated that there’d be an adversary present at the dinner who knew just who his ‘cousin’ was, did little to hide it and, in fact, outed Tommy on spot. Alfie can’t quite regret this, though. Would never have gotten to see his cheeks flushed so darkly, red with rage and embarrassment, the next day, would he have? It made the fist to the face and ensuing month of stony silence entirely worth it.

“Course I remember, treacle. One of my finer moments. Really though, you were rather ungrateful, weren’t you? Just trying to give a mate a pleasurable night and all I get in return is a black eye and broken nose.”

Tommy is looking at him with that look of his, the one that means there’s a scheme brewing and you’d best brace yourself.

“Tell you what, Alfie,” Tommy says, leaning forward and stamping out his cigarette. “You make it to the pier and back in under a minute, and I’ll return the favor.”

“What, you’re gonna hire me an escort?” Alfie asks, amused.

“No.” His eyes bore into Alfie, the blues in them much darker than usual. His meaning, suddenly obvious, clicks.

There’s not many things that can stun Alfie into silence. He blinks stupidly at Tommy for a few beats, then leans back, dragging his hand over his beard.

“Let me get this straight. I go for a quick jog and we fuck?”

“Think it’ll have to be more of a sprint, Alfie.”

Tommy knows Alfie’s feelings about running. Knows them because Alfie had told him, can never keep his fucking mouth shut and stop the landslide of damning information that falls out.

A run for a fuck. It’s tempting, for sure. But Alfie has his pride. There’s lots of things he’d do for a fuck, but running definitely ain’t one of them, no matter how desperately he wants it.

“Naw mate. Don’t feel like getting dressed, quite yet.” Tommy quirks an eyebrow.

“Didn’t say anything about getting dressed, did I?”

Alfie laughs at this. Of course, it’s his unkempt appearance that Tommy thinks adds an extra punch of humiliation to this bargain. But Alfie could give a fuck, and Tommy should really know better. He’d meet the Queen in his boxers and robe, head held high, wouldn’t he? But running? No.

“Tommy, sweetie, it’s not going to happen. Now, isn’t there some world-ending urgent reason you are here?”

Tommy shrugs and starts over.

Alfie listens. Or tries to. Tommy himself proves to be the distraction this time. First, he takes off his suit jacket, and fucking well he should, he’s got too many layers for this heat, so that’s just fine.

Then he starts to roll his shirt sleeves upwards. Not in the messy, rushed way that Alfie shoves his own up, but slowly, methodically, one careful fold over another. It takes a tedious amount of time for his forearms to emerge and Alfie tracks the progress hungrily. He’s always had a weakness for those arms, which Tommy, of course, well knows. Another stupid thing he’d let slip. But no matter, they’re just arms, after all.

The lazy recline against his seatback is definitely unexpected. So unlike Tommy, to don a posture of such ease. Yet it suits him, stretches his body out more fully, allows Alfie a more substantial view. And there’s the leg too, that has slid out as result, and is now pressing firmly against Alfie’s own, calf to calf. It’s not moving or anything, so, really, it’s no big deal.

Tommy keeps talking and Alfie keeps listening. Problem is, Tommy’s doing this thing, and it’s definitely the most distracting of all the things. He keeps slipping his eyes from Alfie’s face, raking them over his body, slow and deliberate, licking his lips as he does. And that, well that is just fucking sinful and cruel and underhanded and right up Alfie’s alley.

A run for a fuck. It’s ludicrous, yet…

The leg next to his gives a forceful nudge.

“Asked you a question, Alfie.” There’s a drop of sweat running down Tommy’s throat, spilling onto his clavicle. When had Tommy undone the top two buttons of his shirt?

Maybe, maybe, just one, short run won’t kill him. He clears his throat.

“A minute, you say?” Tommy blinks, then nods, trying and failing to keep his lips from twitching upwards. The hair on his forehead has begun to curl slightly in the humidity. Alfie wants to run his hand through it, brush it away, feel how soft it must be.

“Fuck it. Where are my goddamn trainers, then?”

—

Alfie runs like the wind, or so he’d like to think. It’s not far in that he first considers, with slight panic, that this distance might not be doable in under a minute, not for an avid non-runner, such as himself. But there’s no fucking way he’s not getting his reward for this ridiculous exercise in humiliation.

He picks up his pace, stiffens his hands, pumps his arms with vigor. He runs like the devil’s chasing him and there’s a naked Tommy Shelby jumping and cheering his name at the finish line. He can only imagine what he looks like, face set with anguished determination, robe billowing behind him.

Tommy’s holding in laughter, eyes brimming with tears, when he heaves to a stop beside him, gasping violently, his hands on his knees. He’d silence him with a righteous punch to the dick if he could only catch his breath.

“Well?” He asks, a moment later. Tommy holds out his phone to him.

“Minute three seconds,” he says.

“Fuck off,” Alfie breaths, but the timer indeed reads as Tommy says. Three fucking seconds. “This goddamn robe, too much resistance.”

Tommy laughs. “Nah, I must have hit the start a bit too soon,” he says, and closes the distance between them, wrapping an arm around Alfie’s waist and kissing him vigorously.

—

And so that’s how Alfie finally managed to get Tommy Shelby into his bed. Still fucking hates running. Hates it with unyielding passion and will never partake again. But, he figures, just that once, it had been worth it.

#Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomons #Tommy/Alfie #tommy x alfie #fanfic #ao3 #oneshot #Peaky Blinders #Tom Hardy

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imaginesandinserts · 4 years ago

Text

Irreverent Pt. 40 - New York

Title: Irreverent Pt. 40 - New York Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 7070

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You'd spent four weeks on and off in a cramped apartment in Paris with only Clyde for company when you swapped shifts. The two of you were becoming very comfortable with one another, and to his credit he had yet to try and make any sort of move.

The surveillance you were running was a long term operation, so you found yourself with an excess of time with nothing to do. You had mounted a punching bag to the ceiling so you could stay in shape. Derek would kill you if you spent four weeks eating nothing but croissants and undid all of your (his) hardwork.

In your time off, you lived out of a hotel room. You'd debated simply buying a property in Paris to replace the one you'd handed off to your mother, and had even spent two long afternoons with a realtor. However, you found yourself really wishing Aaron was around to help you pick the one - any place you got now would really be meant for the two of you. Maybe Christmas in Paris with Jack so that the three of us can find a place we all like. Something away from the tourist traps - in the Trocadéro perhaps, something with a balcony.

You video called Aaron and Jack any spare moment you had, in between your visits back home every ten days or so. You swore Jack looked bigger between each visit. If Aaron was anything to go by, you were convinced Jack would be taller than you any day now. Aaron had pointed out that you were just exceptionally short, before lifting you with ease and throwing you onto the bed.

Clyde was prepping another round of surveillance but could tell you were as close to burnt out as possible, so had recruited another agent at Interpol under him, to take the next couple of weeks. He'd seen you off to the airport with strict instructions to recuperate and come back with your head in the game.

You arrived back home to an empty house. Jess and Andrew had taken the kids to the lake house to catch the last bit of summer, which you'd only remembered once you were already halfway across the Atlantic. Had you remembered earlier you would've swapped with Clyde and taken off a week when Jack would be home as well. As it was, you spent your first couple of hours doing laundry and repacking a new go bag. Aaron was flying back from a case in North Carolina and would be arriving later that night.

After showering and changing into loungewear, you slipped on Aaron's old law school hoodie (which pretty permanently lived in your side of the closet) before going back downstairs to put something together for dinner. With all three of you gone for the past few days, the groceries were meager. You debated running out to the store but if Jack was gone and you and Aaron got called in on a case the next day, that would be a waste. Settling for defrosting one of the lasagnas you'd made the last time you'd been back, you ended up snacking on Jack's fruit gummies in the meantime.

When Aaron got home, you were asleep on the couch with a blanket covering you. He carefully walked past the foyer and went upstairs to shower and change. You'd finished the laundry it would appear so at least he had fresh clothes to choose from and pack his own go bag. When he got back downstairs, you stirred slightly, catching sight of him dressed in pajamas with his hair still wet from the shower.

"Hey." Your voice was soft and sleepy and you made no effort to get up from the couch. Instead, you opened your arms, raising the blanket with you. Aaron smiles just slightly, before quickly joining you on the couch, his head on your chest, arms wrapped around your waist. He mumbles a hello against your breasts, gently nuzzling while your legs entangle with his and you bring the blanket around to cover him as well.

"Are you hungry?" you ask. You'd been waiting on him to come home before you would actually put the food in the oven. You'd eaten two packs of the fruit gummies and a handful of almonds before exhaustion from the time difference had caught up with you and you hadn't been able to resist laying down on the couch with the late afternoon sun warming you up.

He shakes his head at your question. The team had grabbed food before boarding the plane and eating felt like too much effort. You're soft and warm against him and he finds himself drifting away to the feel of your fingers running through his damp hair, your other arm wrapped around the top of his shoulders.

"Was it a bad case?" Your question is hesitant, as if you're not certain if he'd want to talk about it yet if it was.

He tilts his head up to look at you, meeting your warm regard. "Aren't they all?" he manages with a grimace. He hadn't wanted to complain to you right then, but you also knew. If the team was there at all, nothing good was happening. No case was ever really good.

"I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head. Talking wouldn't do much.

You lean down, your lips just barely reaching his forehead before grazing against him.

He takes in a small breath before turning back. You feel the press of his lips against your chest and his hands drawing circles along your waist and stomach. He takes a deeper breath, letting himself be held by you.

*------------*

You had a morning meeting with McKinney to update him on the progress being made on the case with Interpol. He'd been please with everything you reported and brought up a few things he wanted you to consider.

"Agent Hotchner has been many things in your life - a boss, a mentor, and now the two of you are in a relationship. There will come a time where you have to make some concrete choices about the future and choose which roles you'd like for him to keep."

"Are you and your ex-wife still friends?" you ask.

McKinney seems surprised by your question, but he nods nonetheless. "We are, yes. For our daughter's sake."

"Same for me and Aaron. He doesn't need to be my boss or my boyfriend. But he'll always have to be my friend because of Jack." Not that you could even fathom a future without Aaron in it, but were it to ever happen you knew that you and Aaron would forever be in each other's lives. For Jack.

He nods understandingly. The two of you had formed enough of a relationship for him to understand that you were as ready as you ever would be to make the move more permanent.

"I'll sign off on some paperwork and have you designated as a temporary consult for the BAU then. I'm assuming you'll still want to participate in cases when you can."

"Yes, thank you sir."

When you got to the bullpen, it was to find it nearly empty with only Spencer, and even he appeared to be leaving.

"Hey, where is everyone?"

"Got a case. Need to ask Garcia to run something. Emily, JJ, and Morgan left already because she forgot her go bag," Spencer explained as he hurriedly grabbed his own stuff and made his way to the elevators. "Hotch should be in his office, still," he throws over his shoulder as he walks off.

"Thanks Spence."

You quickly make your way upstairs and knock on Aaron's office door before entering. He's seated in his chair, making a phone call, but gestures you in as you close the door behind you. You walk to his side of the desk and make yourself at home on his lap, your arm wrapped around his shoulders. He's obviously not very happy with whoever is on the other end but still smiles at you, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you steady.

If everyone was going on a case, you didn't want to sit at home and do nothing. Surveillance in Paris had been boring and you needed something mentally stimulating. "Can I come on the case?" you whisper, your other hand resting on his chest.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. He had thought you'd use the week off to properly rest. However he ends up simply nodding. He knew you wouldn't do well at home with neither him nor Jack around. You'd probably end up finding some sort of project that would exhaust you. He'd just have you take it easy during the case.

Aaron hangs up with a frustrated sigh. He puts his phone down on his desk, bringing both arms to wrap around you.

"What's wrong?" you ask, shifting to face him better

"There is not a single hotel in the city with more than two rooms available," he explains. He'd been on the phone since the briefing ended and he'd had absolutely no luck.

You realized you had no actual information on the case at all. "Where are you looking?"

"New York."

"Like, New York, New York? We finally have a case in Manhattan?" Your face lights up. In all your time with the team, you'd never had a case in the city. Since your life had pretty much revolved around work for the past few years, you hadn't been back since your first holidays at the Bureau.

"Yes," Aaron smiles at your obvious excitement. He knew you had a special connection to New York. "And absolutely nowhere to stay, so we'll all really get to enjoy the Big Apple at night from the streets."

You laugh at his dramatics. "We can just stay at my place."

"Your place? You still have it?" he questions, his head tilting in confusion. You hadn't lived there in years, he couldn't imagine why you'd maintained a residence there.

"Yeah, I never bothered selling, and its big enough," you reply, shrugging your shoulders.

Of course you had a place big enough in Manhattan to comfortably host seven people. Aaron had to resist an eyeroll. He was really starting to do that a lot more and Prentiss had called him out on it, saying it looked unnatural on his face.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll make some calls," you reply, placing a quick kiss to his cheek before standing to head to the airport. "You can brief me on the case on the way. I have no idea what I'm walking into."

The two of you grab Rossi and Reid (with a quick hello for Penelope along with a delivery of croissants) and make your way to the airport. The three of them together fill you in on the details of the case. New York had had a rash of arson cases across the city and each time they'd uncovered bodies - male and female - tied up ang gagged. By the time firefighters arrived and put out the fires, the bodies were half burnt, however the Medical Examiner's report revealed that the victims had been alive at the time of the fire. Most of them had died from asphyxiation and smoke in their lungs before the fire ever got to them.

Apparently Emily had been a total disaster magnet, as her go bag hadn't been at her house either. She'd had to pack an entirely new bag while Derek and JJ waited for her, so the rest of you had managed to make it onto the plane before them. When they finally arrive - with Emily throwing apologies all around and grabbing a croissant from the box you'd left in the middle for everyone - the plane finally takes off.

"How many pastries did you eat every day?" Derek asks disapprovingly, poking at your stomach as he settles in across from you.

Damn it. You'd hope he wouldn't notice. "I told you," you muttered to Aaron, who only shakes his head. You'd lamented the fact that your six pack was turning into a four pack that morning while the two of you had gotten ready for work. He'd tried reassuring you that you were still in good shape and a few pastries weren't going to kill you. But what did he know? He managed to go on a run once in a blue moon and still look great.

For his part, Aaron had noticed of course that you were the teensiest bit softer from a whole month in Paris, but he didn't mind at all. A little more to hold and most of the weight had gone right to your ass so he really wasn't complaining at all. Plus, Aaron Hotchner was a smart man. He wasn't about to be the one to tell his girlfriend that she'd gained maybe five pounds from a month in Paris, surrounded by her favorite food and stuck in an apartment with very little to do.

"Probably a few too many," you admit guiltily. "Wanna work out again once we're back?" You figured you might as well put that out there so he'll be nicer to you.

"Yeah, but we aren't waiting till we get back. You and I are going on a run. Early tomorrow morning." His voice is full of threat of bad things to come if you complain, so you nod meekly, knowing you're in for a heck of a workout if he has anything to say about it.

"I can't believe you let him say that to you," Emily remarks, stuffing a second croissant into her mouth, looking every bit the picture of perfection.

You laugh. Derek wasn't being intentionally mean. "I told him he has to be mean to me," you explain. "Otherwise I'll just let it slide and do the bare minimum to pass the physical exam. Honestly I didn't even eat that many pastries and if I had been doing cases like normal here I would've been fine. Sitting in an apartment all day long is killer."

They all agree with you - no one enjoyed surveillance cases. The team chats a bit more about Paris, the case, and what everyone had been up to while you were away.

"Wait, Derek, I almost forgot, when're you going to ask Savannah?" You turn to Derek, eager to know what he'd decided for his proposal to Savannah. Him and Penelope had gone to pick out the ring a few weeks back, video calling you during, and he'd managed to pick out a gorgeous ring for her.

"Our anniversary is coming up, so probably the day right before if we're free. That way we can celebrate the actual anniversary properly," he says, waggling his eyebrows.

You laugh. "Well, just make sure it's the kind of proposal she'll like. Nothing big and public."

"Yeah, probably just the two of us actually. I'm planning on picking her up from work and taking her to that new property I've been working on to show her properly," he says. Derek had shown you all photos of the place that he was remodeling and you knew it was his vision of his forever home. The fact that he was choosing to propose to Savannah there spoke volumes.

"That's actually cute," Emily remarks, impressed that he'd managed to put together something that wasn't entirely cringe inducing.

"Hey don't sound too surprised." The two of them rib at each for a bit as you watch fondly. You'd missed this.

"What was your first proposal like?" Emily asks, turning away from Derek and glancing quickly at Hotch beside you, bent over a stack of paperwork as usual. However by now, you all know that that means nothing - he hears everything.

Aaron listens in as you tell Emily about how Matthew had proposed at Thanksgiving your last year of college, in front of everyone. He cringes internally, knowing that definitely was not your style. You'd want it to be private - something special that only you could have. He has a hard time not looking up at the baggage stowaway where a small box has sat, hidden in a pair of socks he never wears, just waiting for the right moment.

"You should've dumped him in public - revenge for the public proposal," Emily says, a dark smile marring her face.

"I pretty much had to," you reply. "I broke up with him earlier in private, returned the ring and everything. But he found me, out at a bar later and went totally ballistic, accusing me of all sorts of things. My friend Ricky ended up punching him in the face."

Aaron chuckles, looking up finally and revealing that he had, of course, been listening the whole time. "I think I'd like this Ricky kid." Anyone punching Matthew in the face was good in his book.

You share a look with Derek and there's a smirk dancing at his lips. He knew exactly who Ricky was.

Smiling, you lean into Aaron ever so slightly. "I think you would too."

You'd felt him tense earlier as you told Emily about Matthew's proposal - you weren't sure if it was because of Matthew or the proposal. You'd had to resist peaking over at him while you spoke with Emily, knowing he'd notice that for sure. You didn't want to send the wrong impression. Not that you were expecting a proposal anytime soon. It hadn't even been a whole year since the two of you were together, and with Aaron, you weren't sure if a proposal was coming at all.

You knew if you voiced this to Emily or anyone, they'd tell you were crazy. That of course Hotch wanted to marry you - how could you think he wouldn't. But Aaron had already done the marriage thing and it hadn't gone so well. After Haley, you were surprised he wanted to risk his heart again at all. Your relationship was already more than you could have ever imagined or hoped for. You didn't need to be married to him if that wasn't something he could give to you. He'd already given enough.

You looked across the aisle and saw that JJ looked a little pale. She hadn't grabbed a croissant like everyone else, which was fine of course. However she also had an unopened bag of Cheetos in front of her and that was definitely not normal. The plane gets some turbulence and her hands fly to her mouth. The next second she's up and rushing to the bathroom.

You share a look with Emily. That definitely wasn't normal. The two of you get up and walk towards the back of the plane to wait for her.

As JJ exits, you hand her a bottle of water which she accepts gratefully.

"Are you okay?" Emily asks, reaching out to smooth her hair in place.

JJ looks apprehensively between the two of you before nodding. "Yeah," her voice is soft as if she's trying not to be overheard. However something passes over her face and you can see her steel herself. Raising her voice, she draws the attention of everyone on the plane. "Actually I have some news to share. I'm pregnant," she announces, smiling slightly.

"Oh my goodness, congratulations." Emily quickly wraps her into a hug.

You hug her next as the three of you walk back to your seats and everyone else also congratulates her. Rossi kisses both her cheeks and tells her he's excited for a new bambino in the family.

You settle back down into your seat next to Aaron as everyone pulls JJ into baby talk. Aaron's hand finds its way to yours, intertwining your fingers together and giving you a light squeeze.

You look over at him and he's giving you a look. The look that asks, Are you alright?

You glance towards JJ and smile, before looking back at him. I'm not going to fall apart because JJ is pregnant and I'm not. I'm alright. He can read your looks well enough by now.

He nods hesitantly but doesn't push the matter. The two of you weren't even trying for a baby but Aaron felt a dull ache in his chest at the subject on your behalf. He worried that it affected you more than you let on, despite how you engaged with JJ and asked her when she was due and started discussing throwing her a baby shower with Emily.

He keeps his hand intertwined with yours the rest of the plane ride.

*------------*

Hotch assigns out roles to everyone - sending Prentiss and Morgan to the latest crime site and Reid starts working on a geographic profile while Rossi and JJ go to speak with the victims' families. He keeps you with him at the precinct to go meet with the lead detective on the case.

You'd made a phone call on the car ride over, speaking in accented Russian with a woman named Tatiana, and he realized he hadn't actually known you spoke Russian. French, Spanish, and Urdu he'd known about. He briefly wonders what else he doesn't know about you.

When he was still moving into the house, he'd come across some photos of you in a sleek white dress looking ethereally beautiful, dancing with a boy who looked barely old enough to drive. The white gloves and other kids dancing in the background suggested it was your cotillion. There were a few more photos - photos of you dancing with your father and brothers and then another of you dancing with a blonde man who towered over you. Finally there were the polaroids of what was obviously an after party to the same event. Your dress was the slightest bit wrinkled in those and you were mostly photographed with Julian and the blonde man, your young, age-appropriate date nowhere to be seen. The photo that had really caught his eye was one of you draped across both men, leaning against Julian with your legs on the blonde man's lap, your white dress splayed around you. You'd seen what Aaron was looking at and told him how you'd exchanged your original white dress for one that was more adult and had an open back and how you'd been the scandal of the season. He'd laughed, looking back at the photo in his hand. Julian was looking at the camera while you drank straight from a bottle of champagne. That blonde man however, his eyes were trained on you and you alone.

The two of you arrive at the precinct and are directed to the conference room where, through the windows, he could see a black man in a suit speaking with a uniformed officer. Aaron walks to the conference room with you at his heels and knocks on the open door to announce your arrival.

The black man looks up at the knock. "Agent Hotchner," he greets, walking over to the two of you, his eyes trained on Hotch before he catches sight of you and his eyes get wide. "Y/N! What're you doing here?" he exclaims, leaning down to give you a slight hug.

You smile wide, returning the gesture. "I'm with the BAU," you explain.

"You're a Fed?" He seems very surprised at that and Aaron watches as you chuckle.

"Hey, you aren't Officer Lewis anymore, you're a detective. So looks like we both moved on up in life," you tease, giving him a friendly shove.

Detective Lewis laughs at that though he still appears surprised.

Hotch looks between the two of you, eyebrow quirked up in question. "You two know one another, I presume."

You nod. "Yeah, back when I lived in New York, the then Officer Lewis helped me out with a little stalker issue I was having. He was the only one that believed me," you explain with a slight smile on your face.

You had had a stalker? Aaron starts to ask for more information on the matter, however he's interrupted by the uniformed officer telling you that the evidence you'd asked to see on your way in was available. You quickly excuse yourself with another smile at Detective Lewis and himself.

As if sensing his need to know more, Detective Lewis turns to Hotch, to explain how you'd had a stalker who had been following you around for the better part of two months and when you'd reported it, no one had taken it too seriously until the guy had cornered you with a knife one day and cut some of your hair to take with him. "Nasty piece of work. Her lawyer got the judge to issue a warrant and they ended up finding child porn on his computer so they got him for that. The whole place was like a shrine to her though. There were photos of her everywhere, even inside her apartment. Completely nuts dude who was probably on the path to do something much worse than cutting some hair."

Aaron nods grimly as he watches you speaking with the officer across the room. Even in heels you stood a head shorter than most people. Sure, you were strong and could fight now, but he knew that hadn't always been the case. He could just imagine some terrifyingly large man cornering you at night and shoving you against a wall before knifing hair off of your head. The thought alone made bile rise in his throat.

"Anyways," Detective Lewis continued, "there was a prison riot a month after his arrest and he died during that. Good riddance I say."

So much for the small blessings.

*------------*

Later that evening once the team had made some headway in the case but it was far too late to do much more, everyone headed out to drive to your place. Aaron pulled up to the address on the GPS - an older building just across from Central Park and close to the Midtown precinct the team was based out of.

Everyone exits the vehicle, Morgan and the rest in the car that had pulled up right behind him. An older man dressed in a plain yet well-fitted suit had exited to meet you.

"Petyr!," you greeted, meeting him halfway and kissing both cheeks.

The man - who appeared to be Eastern European - respectfully returned a smile. "Hello Miss. It is lovely to see you again."

You hand over both of the car keys to Petyr and ask that they be fueled and ready by eight in the morning, before leading everyone inside. Aaron can sense the collective mixed energy of the team - excitement and apprehension and exhaustion from the day they'd all had. It was rare for the Bureau to put them up in a nice hotel and as they entered the lobby of the building, it was clear that this was nicer than any place they'd ever stayed in prior.

They all follow you, past a desk of similarly suited men - all of whom are carrying firearms, Aaron notes - seated in front of screens monitoring the location. You wave at them and Aaron sees one of the screens populate with the entire team's names and faces as the security personnel glance over the group.

He expects you to lead them to the elevators behind the desk, however you open a door to the right just past the security desk, revealing a second set of lifts. You enter last, pressing the only button available and the elevator begins to rise. And rise. And rise.

The team spills out of the elevator, directly into a large living room with floor to ceiling windows, of what is quite obviously the penthouse. The gasps from Prentiss and JJ as they walk towards the windows to get a view of the city and park below are telling. Even Dave seems impressed.

Aaron looks around and he can tell it is your place - the deep navy blues and forest greens of the throw pillows on the large couch, the grand piano sitting in a corner (You'd recently began teaching Jack on the smaller one that sat in the living room at home.), the large marble kitchen island with a bowl of lemons sitting at the center. It was the wall art which truly stood out however - a lot more Warhol and Basquiat rather than the watercolors he was used to with you. It was a dialed up version of your home now. Your place in Georgetown was a muted version of this - a more grown up and less ostentatious version which spoke to how you'd tried to fit in early on with the team and underplay exactly how wealthy you were.

The team mills about remarking at the place as you point them all to rooms down the hallway to the left. From down the hallway he hears Morgan's voice. "There's a mint on my pillow!"

JJ walks to the kitchen and opens the fridge to reveal that it is fully stocked - drinks of every sort. The cabinets were stocked with snacks and Aaron notices that there were Cheetos for JJ and the pretzel sticks that Reid munches on mindlessly when he's deep in thought. The wet bar to the side of the kitchen has Rossi's brand of scotch. You point to an intercom machine and tell them they can order food using it.

"We can't have restaurants deliver here directly," you explain. "There's some people in the building who are sensitive about revealing their address, so the guys downstairs will handle it. Just ask for whatever you want from any restaurant in a reasonable distance. They'll take care of the check and everything."

"At some point, we're going to have to have a talk about how much money you have exactly," he mutters to you as you come to stand by his side at the edge of the kitchen.

You laugh, that laugh that causes his heart to skip ever so slightly every time. "Oh honey, we're gonna need lawyers for that conversation," you respond, your eyes twinkling with amusement.

He had a feeling you weren't joking.

He moves to head down the hallway towards the bedrooms but you stop him, indicating a different hallway to the side of the kitchen instead. The two of you say good night to the rest of the team, leaving Prentiss and Rossi sitting on the couch with identical glasses of scotch poured, JJ munching on whatever snacks she could carry with her, and Reid browsing through the bookshelves lining the corner behind the piano. Morgan had already retired for the night.

*------------*

You led Aaron down the hallway and to your old room. It was weird having everyone here, especially since you hadn't been back here yourself since you'd started with the BAU. The one time you'd come back to New York after joining the Bureau officially had been that first holiday season, and you hadn't stayed here then.

You couldn't deny that you were a little apprehensive about Aaron's reaction to the place. It was definitely a more vibrant and rebellious version of you - the version that had just found out about Julian and just broken it off with Matthew and had sought only to escape. Your entire apartment was a testament to that idea - a stark contrast to the Connecticut old money roots that you'd grown up in.

You watched as he looked around the bedroom. This was perhaps the room which would feel the most familiar to him. Your shared room back home was a near mirror copy, down to the mirror in the corner. You'd never really compromised on how you wanted your bedroom to be, though you couldn't deny that it fit in a lot better with the Georgetown house. Here it felt washed out compared to the rest of the apartment.

You see a smile appear on his face as he sees the mirror in the corner. "Never took you to be such a creature of habit," he remarks, undoing his tie.

"Only when it comes to the bedroom. I don't play around with where I sleep."

You find yourself watching as he removes the tie with a soft pull and the jacket comes off right after, followed by the belt.

"I'm going to take a bath," you tell him, heading towards the door to the bathroom. You hope he'll decide to join you but don't bother asking.

After turning the water on and finding the bath bomb you like, stocked to the side, you drop it into the large tub. Quickly taking your clothes off, you climb into the tub and let the hot water envelop you. It had been a long time since you'd really enjoyed a bath, and the warmth from the water seeped into your bones as you relaxed against the back of the tub, the smell of gardenias wafting around you. Tatiana was about to get a wonderful tip for her work today. The bath bomb had been an unasked for extra.

You're so far blissed out that you barely hear the sound of the bathroom door opening as Aaron enters. He sees you with your head leaned back and eyes closed, the bubbles in the tub grazing the top of your chest and hiding the rest of you beneath.

"Hey." His voice is soft so as to not startle you.

You open your eyes to see him taking off the rest of his clothes, before he dims the bathroom light so that the two of you are bathed in a warm yellow glow. You shift forward and give him a hand to help him climb into the tub and slot himself behind you. His long legs nearly touch the other end as they stretch out on either side of you. Aaron pulls you back to lean against his chest. The water is too warm for his taste but he knows you run colder than he does. There's a view from the tub of the entire city and he can see the Empire State Building entirely lit up.

"Are there any other homes I should know about? You're not hiding a chalet in the Swiss Alps, are you?"

You chuckle, tilting your head back to look at his face. "There's a few more properties that I kept. I handed off most everything in Europe to my mother, besides my first place in Florence."

"Your first place?"

"I helped my father with a business deal when I was fifteen," you answer, tilting your head up to look straight out into the city. "He told me to pick a city and he'd buy me a place there if the deal went well. I always loved Florence."

Aaron takes note of the slight conflict in your tone. Your father is very much a touchy subject and he knows you find it difficult to enjoy the things in your past that are still linked to him. He doubted you'd been back there since.

"We should go to Florence then," he whispers, placing a kiss to the side of your neck and resting his head on your shoulder.

You smile, bringing your hand up to touch his cheek. He kisses the edge of your palm, the only part his lips could reach. "Maybe you can grow out the beard again then," you joke. There was a small part of you that was curious and regretted having been on the outs with him for those two weeks when he'd been back and had a full beard. It had never happened again. Jack hadn't been a fan apparently.

Aaron breathes out a laugh, the sensation causing goosebumps on your skin. "You liked the beard?" He sounds amused and a little bit…cautiously curious.

"Mm I think I just regret having missed out on that experience. We should've just had hate sex or something when you got back from Pakistan."

This time his laugh is deeper and he pulls you back against him tighter, drawing a squeal from your mouth. He cups your face towards him, capturing your lips in a sweetly insistent kiss, causing a moan to escape from you. His touch is gentle. It always is with you. A reminder that hate sex isn't really a concept between you. Even in the moments when you're rougher with one another, a touch more aggressive, pushing boundaries and testing limits, it's never hate. Frustration, sure. Anger, maybe. But hate? No. Never.

You lean back against him, allowing his body to hold you up entirely. His hands roam. Past your arms, brushing the underside of your breasts, moving lower. He peppers the top of you shoulders with soft kisses and you allow your eyes to flutter shut and simply enjoy his touch.

You dance your fingers against his thighs, feeling the thick muscles there flex and unflex as your touch moves back and forth.

His hand cups you under the water, one finger grazing against your opening, then two. With his other hand he cups your breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over the nipple, each graze sending the barest of sensation rushing through you, as he gently coaxes it into a peak. You know you're growing wetter and its not just the bathwater.

His light touch is dizzying in its barely thereness. He enters you with two fingers, softly exploring. He crooks his fingers just barely, finding the rough patch inside and grazing over it as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing it in languid circles. He continues the light touches until he's drawn far too many soft and wanton moans from you. The water is warm and your head is heady from the perfume that sits over the entire room and Aaron is solid behind you, taking his time working you up to the edge. When he finally lets you come, it is almost as an afterthought. His lips have never once left you in their devotion.

Hate never really was an option.

*------------*

Derek had been an absolute drill sergeant, knocking on your door at five thirty in the morning. You'd forced yourself to get up so he wouldn't wake Aaron, grabbing the workout clothes from your bag and taking them outside with you. Derek had turned around as you quickly got dressed and the two of you had run five miles, after which he made you do burpees and push ups in the park. You had gotten back to your room completely exhausted, promising yourself you wouldn't even look at a croissant again. Yeah, right.

Aaron was already up by the time you had returned. He'd managed to figure out the coffee machine in the kitchen after realizing it was a slightly older version of the one you had at home and had made you a latte just how you liked it. He handed it to you as you exited the bedroom dressed in a suit he hadn't seen before. It looked like you'd gone shopping in Paris, the dark green suit fitting you like a glove. You'd paired it with black stilettos as you were going to be spending most of the day at the precinct anyways.

"Good morning," he says, smiling appreciatively at the new outfit.

You hopped up onto the kitchen island as you usually did on mornings when it was just the two of you. He leaned against the counter across from you, drinking what was sure to be his second cup. You took a sip of the latte he'd made and it was perfect. Sometimes you wondered how Haley had dealt with him, because while Aaron was certainly capable there was a lot of stuff which he did automatically now that you'd had to teach him - making the perfect cup of coffee being the most important one. Though it hadn't all happened over the course of just your relationship. The coffee thing, he'd learned for you much earlier.

It appeared you two were the first ones ready, though you could hear sounds coming from down the hallway, indicating that the rest of the team was at least awake. The early morning sunlight was streaming in through the large windows, reminding you why you'd chosen this place. It hit Aaron just perfectly, creating a halo around him.

You reach out drawing him closer to you by his tie, intent on saying good morning properly. He looks back towards the hallway, before allowing you to pull him down to meet your lips. He's slow and methodical, kissing you just so, before his tongue darts out to lick your lips, prompting you to open your mouth to him. Your hands are still clutched onto his tie and his hands run up your legs, your thighs, and your waist. He can feel your legs instinctively start to wrap around him, the heel of your stiletto digging into the back of his thighs. You let go of his tie to wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him in even closer as he releases you with a gasp. You barely have a second to draw a breath before he returns, the two of you lost in your own world.

Only the insistent clearing of a throat accompanied by Emily's claps are enough to break you apart. You turn to see Rossi, Derek, and Emily standing at the edge of the kitchen. Rossi appears unbothered, Derek seems embarrassed, and Emily is exuberantly thrilled as she congratulates you for getting a morning makeout session in, before stealing your coffee. You and Aaron quickly adjust yourselves, however you're glad to note that he appears mostly unaffected as well. Life was far too short to be embarrassed by having your coworkers (who were staying in your home) catch you kissing your boyfriend.

To be honest, it was probably good for Emily to see this on occasion. She'd been convinced that Aaron was, in her words, the human equivalent of vanilla pudding. She figured that between both of your lack of a wide range of sexual partners, that the two of you only fucked in missionary. She couldn't be further from the truth, however you didn't really care to clear up her misconceptions. Not everyone needed to be bound up and choked to the brink of death in order to feel something.

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