#& if i tagged you and you've already done this my apologies!!

[mm-lurking]

Malfunction: Heart Mode - Boothill

Based on this post. fem reader. Praying this is not ooc. Writing is kinda choppy, I tried my best. 1.6k words. tag: @nvuy hope you like it -- Boothill is one strong muddle-fudger. He does not give a rat's behind when it comes to romantic love, affection, and all that fudging nonsense. Even if it has crossed his mind, he's too busy dealing with the forking problems of the cosmos and most importantly trying to find that son of a nice lady who is responsible for killing his sweet angel and destroying his planet.

Yet here he is, standing in front of you at the bar with a drink in his hand as he hears his machine heart starting to whir. You both were regulars at the bar and often ran into each other from time to time. Your encounters were akin to something like being seatmates; there was enough information exchanged to know about each other yet it was nothing personal. While you didn't quite understand why he would disappear for long periods before returning like nothing happened, you never questioned it and were simply happy to see him again.

He too liked meeting up with you. He couldn't help but flash his razor-sharp teeth whenever he saw you; calling you “partner!” out loud before greeting you and asking how you had been. The little interactions you both had were always a pleasure and as time passed, he seemed to grow more attached to seeing you.

Today was a little different. Compared to your usual outfit, you were dressed up all fancy and the more he looked at you, the louder the whirring of his heart got.

"Fudge."

He mutters under his breath. You look at him inquisitively as he turns his head sideways and sighs.

"Something the matter Boothill?" "It's nothing partner."

You watch as he chugs down his glass and sets the empty vessel down on the bar counter before ordering more.

"I haven't even finished my first drink yet and you're already done?"

You laugh a little as you take a sip of your drink. The dim lights of the bar made your jewellery glow and alongside the reflections of other shiny things, you looked heavenly in his eyes. He doesn’t answer so you look over and find him dazed.

"Boothill...? Um, do you need some space?" "Fudge!"

He can't help but say it out loud this time, covering his face as he scrunches his eyebrows and frowns. This was not how he normally behaved. What in the hot diggity fudge was going on with him?

"Yes- I mean no, ugh fork me!"

You stand there confused (and slightly amused) at how he seems to be fighting himself like a madman. He almost looked possessed from how he kept going back and forth with himself as if he was surprised at what he was saying. Like his tongue wasn't his own.

"I'll give you some space."

The last thing you wanted was for him to hurt himself or those around him. You finally decide to leave just to make sure everything's alright only for him to grab your arm and then quickly let go in shock.

"Sorry 'bout that partner.”

Boothill awkwardly apologises for his unusual behaviour. Before you can reply, a drunk accidentally pushes you from behind and you lose your balance causing you to fall straight into his arms.

“I-!?” “Um…?!”

Both of you are speechless. He swiftly holds your waist with one hand while the other firmly holds onto malt juice. Your hands are tightly gripping his shoulders from the fear of falling. No coherent thought is spoken but the flustered look on your faces has got some of the bar regulars around you giggling.

You don’t even hear the apology of the one who accidentally pushed you. It's as if time has slowed down and nothing exists outside you both. Strangely, he doesn’t let you go and you don’t move either making things even more awkward.

The strong alcohol you were sipping on makes you tipsy and somehow gives you the courage to lift your head and gaze into Boothill's unique eyes. You've always admired how dashing he looks; from his physique to his dressing style and even his interesting way of speaking. And now here you were up close, staring disrespectfully at his face and how handsome he looked.

Boothill is no different either, he's gazing at you hesitantly as he tries to find something to say but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is-

“Fudge me…” “I'm sure the ladies at the ranch think about that regularly.”

You mumble without thinking and he tenses up.

“I- what?!”

He stutters as his cheeks turn slightly red and his eyes widen.

“Uh?! Nothing!”

You mentally slap yourself for blurting that out loud. Even if it was true, why did you have to say it and make things awkward? Come on! You both were having a somewhat endearingly awkward time together! 

You attempt to conjure up something to smooth things over but your thinking is disrupted by a strangely loud machine sound that seems to be coming from nearby. The whoosh is accompanied by irregular beeping sounds, almost like one of those technology things Boothill had told you about. 

You glance around to see if you can find the source only to realise-

It’s coming from Boothill.

“Oh.” You whisper under your breath but the cyborg (who still doesn't let you go nor drinks his beverage and is as still as a statue for some reason) hears you loud and clear.

“Something the matter, pretty lady?” “Yes. Do you plan on us staying in this position until the bar closes?”

Instead of answering his question, you deflect it with another. He turns red again and stammers badly which makes you giggle and further confirms your theory.

“Gotcha.”

Before Boothill can ask what you’re doing, you slowly drag your hands down his shoulders until they rest on his chest. You feel the rapid whirring of his heart through the vibrations it emits through your fingertips. A tiny smirk spreads on your face and you look back at him.

“You’re pretty cute.”

You flirtatiously speak. The look of confusion and embarrassment on his face makes you laugh harder.

“What- hey what- I-”

Boothill’s stammering only gets worse alongside the overheating of his heart. He tries to reply with a snarky comment but the only thing he’s capable of doing is squeezing your waist harder and propping himself up with the bar counter to avoid falling. You, being the woman you are, do not stop the teasing.

“You can’t handle affection, can you? Look at you sweet thing, your heart is overworking and your synesthesia beacon has already overheated.” “Shut…” “I barely said anything and you’re malfunctioning already? How amusing.” “Son of a nice lady…” “I am indeed the daughter of a nice lady.”

“You-!”

He is bewildered at your unexpected behaviour but that painfully obvious blush on his cheek tells you he's not mad about it.

“Oh dear,” you chuckle and pry yourself off his metal chest, “I should stop or else your…eccentric friends…will hold me responsible for any severe malfunctions.”

This was enough teasing from you today. If it were up to you, you would go on and on but you feared any dire consequences that would affect Boothill. You lift and steady yourself up nonchalantly as if you just didn't cause the ranger to nearly pass out from your shenanigans.

Despite the cold metal exterior, he feels the loss of warmth from you moving your body away. His hand slowly retracts from your waist but lingers as if he hesitates to let go. The overheating of his system rapidly starts to decrease, however, he is unable to calm his emotions down completely. He turns his attention away from his mechanical heart and gazes at you curiously while you fix your wrinkled dress.

“You are one hell of a woman.”

A long sigh leaves his mouth as he speaks as if still processing your chaos. A sly smile appears on your face when you (finally) hear him speak properly.

“Took you a while to get talking didn't it mister?”

That grin on your face screams ‘this wasn’t even my best attempt’ but he shrugs it off. He unknowingly takes a step closer to you as if wanting your presence as close to him as possible. The (welcomed) intrusion into your personal space causes you to sharply inhale. He simply places his hand over the rim of your filled glass and whispers gently.

“You think I'd let any lady come close like that?”

Your mouth practically foams as you try to formulate a response. Eventhough you're not looking him, you can feel his gaze on you which makes you nervous.

“I'll tell you something sweetheart. I've got some fudging business to attend to in a bit but the next time we meet, I'll finish what you started.”

His voice is low and rumbly as he subtly warns you of the consequences of your actions. He follows it with a tight squeeze of your hand and then steps away from you. Your mind protests his leave but you're too stunned to speak; had you put yourself on his wanted list now? 

There is a devilish smile on his face as he checks his gun and locks it before walking away with it casually. Next time, he'd show you what a cowboy is capable of.

Hey, at least you were living out the dreams of those ranch ladies. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[cactustreesmotel]

@muirneach tagged me to poll ppl on which of my five favourite movies suits me best!! thank you for the tag 💌

posters for the last four (jaws is too famous):

i always feel awkward tagging people but i'll go with @iamidentical @tiredeyes1975 @ishallbereleased and @bbbrianjones!! the fifth slot is open to anyone who wants to do it :)

[certainwill]

what chess piece represents you?

Black Knight

You are a Black Knight, the black sheep, the underdog. As the only piece that can jump over others, you can easily get yourself in and out of situations - always catching people off guard with your charisma and cunning. You move in the shadows, trading information with shady people, getting the upper hand through not always good methods. How far do you think this road can take you? For all your charisma or cunning, lies can only get you so far. One day, that mask you've put on will slip, and you'll be left defenseless. But until then, oh black knight, live like there's no tomorrow - because there might not be.

Tagged by: stolen from my p5 multi!

Tagging: @politesper, @dnangelic, @rosecoloredmuses, @rollinggirlrunahika and YOU!

[an-asuryampasya]

choose an artist you like and use the name of their songs to answer this as close to the truth as possible!

tagged by: @wizardofgoodfortune thank you for the tag! this was very fun :D

name of the artist: Decided to go with whatever Spotify has of Hadley Fraser singing so I can make a particular silly joke below :P

what is your gender? Take Things into Our Own Hands

describe yourself: Masquerade

how do you feel? But for me

if you could go anywhere, where would it be? Beyond the Door (my url literally means "she who never sees the sun" lmao)

describe your best friend: Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh :P (Technically Raoul [the character] is barely in this scene but he's still there yelling towards the end so I've decided it counts as a song sung by him)

your favorite time of day: On Constellation Street

if your life was a tv show, what would it be called? Just Let Go (it's an ironic title)

what is life to you? Heading West

what do you fear? This Time

tagging @permanentlyspacedout, @averythepirate, @rosettarants, @shewantsitall , @themirokai, and @timetravelingkayak! Zero pressure though :) And anyone else who feels like it, consider yourself tagged!

(I'm never sure who is alright with being tagged, welp.)

[endless-ineffabilities]

sapphire-hearted (part four)

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Aemond is not one who shares those which he thinks belong to him. Including you, as you'll soon find out after an eventful little feast.

themes/warnings: jealous!Aemond, third and fourth parties (but not really), Aemond is a stubborn and possesive arse, drunk Aegon - huzzah!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

a/n: I can't believe it's been a year since I updated this fiery miniseries! Apologies if I couldn't tag everyone who asked from the previous chapter - taglist is now closed 💙

The necklace is perhaps the most beautiful piece of jewelry you've ever seen.

With an intricate interwoven chain of Valyrian steel, and a sapphire pendant inlaid in a burnt bronze frame that glowed dark green in some lights, the frame displaying carvings that resemble Vhagar's scales.

There is no question to it. Not an inkling of doubt.

This gift is from Aemond.

"You simply found this when you arrived?" you asked your lady-in-waiting, as you pick up the necklace from its velvet casing and study it against the faint firelight in your chambers.

"Yes, my lady," she responds promptly. "Shall I fasten it upon you before you depart for the King's feast?"

Your mind forms almost immediately, resolute in your decision. "No, it will not be of any use to me this night. You may keep it away in my boudoir."

The thought of it around your neck is a pleasant one, to be sure. It is such a thing of beauty, fit to be worn to a royal gathering. But what message might it signal to the others?

What purpose might it serve - especially to Aemond - that you wear something that symbolises him?

All while your companion is Ramsay, with whom you hope to be betrothed.

And while Alys is likely draped upon Aemond's arm. That slimy, bastard witch.

You will not give in, and give him what he wants.

The necklace is far from enough to make up for how he has wronged you, so it stays in your chambers, safely tucked away in its casing, not to be worn until Aemond sets things right.

If he ever will.

Ramsay arrives at your door soon enough, accompanied by two of Aegon's guards. The awe in his gaze as he takes you in is so evident, so pure in its apparent innocence. Unlike Aemond's, who would be undressing you with a single passing look.

Unlike Aemond's, who - despite his trangressions - looks at you like he would burn the entire Seven Kingdoms for your hand.

But he has relinquished your hand when he took that witch to bed.

"You look dashing as ever, my Lord," you curtsy in greeting, as Ramsay kisses your hand. He is clad in a tunic in House Beesbury's yellow and paly black, as you are wearing a gown in your own House's hues.

If not the necklace from Aemond, branding you as his, why not something of Beesbury? It would anger Aemond so, but you are feeling petulant. Why can't you take a jab at him after what he had done?

"And what a lovely sash you wear," you say, observing his attire. "Mayhaps I might display this on my person? Have it as a sort of attachment upon my skirts? I would be proud to have everyone at the feast know that we have come together."

"Of course! I would be honoured, my lady." He immediately relinquishes it, handing it to your lady-in-waiting, who then fastens it around your waist. The colour is striking in contrast. The piece of cloth surely will not go unnoticed.

You make your way through the Red Keep, your arm entwined with Ramsay's. Sounds of the revelry make themselves heard as you near Aegon's private dining hall.

As the guards open the doors, you hear your names announced. Almost all the attendees are already sat around the table. Aegon and his host of sycophants, particularly Lord Reyne and Lord Estermont. Helaena and her lady companions. Tyland Lannister and his betrothed. Even Ser Criston Cole, who has never been one to partake in merrymaking, usually standing guard in the corner. There are some others whose names escape you, as you find your seats - among the last ones which remain empty, right next to Aemond and Alys.

"Welcome, dear lovely guests, welcome!" Aegon walks over to you, already on his fifth or sixth goblet of firewine. "Please find your seats, have a drink - or seven drinks, preferably, and... oh! Isn't that something, my lady? Beesbury yellow?" Not giving mind to any boundaries, he toys with the sash tied around your waist.

Aemond twists around in his seat, catching sight of you for the first time.

His pupil dilates considerably, with a single glance at your face, then down to your décolletage... where the necklace is nought to be seen.

What he sees, raking over your figure, is that sickening shade of bright yellow. That Beesbury sash tainting the beauty of your gown.

Tainting the woman who is rightfully his.

His hand instinctively goes to the scabbard in his belt, though his sword remains in his chambers. It matters not, he can just as easily demand one from the Kingsguard.

Because the rat who calls himself Ramsay has surrendered any desire to stay alive.

"So... you here," Aegon guides you to your seat, with his arm loosely draped around your waist. "And you right there," he adds to Ramsay.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think the seating arrangement is accidental. But you know Aegon - he surely planned it to be Ramsay, you, Aemond and Alys beside each other.

Aemond openly stares at you as you settle down to his left.

"My Prince," Ramsay greets from your other side, "Lady Alys."

"Oh, it's just Alys, m'lord," she clarifies, unabashed. "I am no Lady. I am simply here at the behest of my dear Aemond."

"Prince Aemond is fortunate to have you as his companion, Alys," you smile sweetly, concealing any ire you might have. "As I am fortunate to have Lord Beesbury by my side."

Alys nods, raising her cup to you. To anyone, it's an innocent enough gesture, but you see her up close, and you see into the depths of the witch's gaze. She knows about you and Aemond, of course she does.

The attention of your companions are diverted, and Aemond wastes no time in leaning closer to you. He grips your thigh underneath the table, away from any prying eyes.

"My love," he purrs, "you never fail to take my breath away. Although I never thought you would sully yourself by wearing that. I trust you received my gift?"

You cross your legs so that his hand falls off, but it doesn't faze him. He simply finds purchase yet again, this time digging harder into your flesh. So warm, it almost feels as if your skirts do nothing to prevent his encroaching touch.

"Hmm, don't test me, now," he warns, lips curling back in annoyance. His tone is so deep you feel the heat pooling in your core.

"I could say the same to you," you counter. "Do not lay a hand on me, my prince. Especially not in the presence of my betrothed." You push his hand away, and he relents for the moment, reaching for his goblet and downing its contents in one angry swig.

"And by betrothed, you must mean that you have reconsidered my proposal and agree to be wed to me, your only love," he says, daring you to challenge him.

"You are mistaken, Aemond," you respond coolly. "I do appreciate the necklace. It is a marvel, indeed. But there is a reason why I don something of Lord Ramsay's instead of it. I am not yours. I feared the message it would send were I to wear the necklace to this feast."

"What message, my love? The truth? That you are mine and mine alone?"

"That is finished - "

"If you value Lord Beesbury's life by any small measure, you would not speak to me of such vile ideas. He will not have you, lest he wishes his head to no longer rest upon his shoulders."

"Resorting to threats now, are we?" you spit venomously. "You will not harm him. Or I swear to you on my mother's memory that I will never speak with you again."

That shuts him up. He exhales deeply, weighing your words, studying your expression. He wants to fight back and to call your bluff, but it is no use. His gaze is drawn down to your lips, and he moves closer just an inch, his own lips parted in longing and torment.

"Well, it seems we may have more cause for celebration!" Aegon bellows from the head of the table, with a grinning Ramsay standing by his side. You tear your attention away from Aemond, but he lingers on you, until his brother calls out for him. "Aemond! You must have known about this, dear brother, as I understand you and the lady have always been close."

The guests share glances, already assuming what the news might be, but none of them say a word for fear of their Prince Aemond.

"Iderēbagon aōha udra sȳrī, lēkia." Choose your words wisely, brother, Aemond warns him. The mood of the entire room shifts, as it inevitably does whenever Aemond speaks.

"Oh come now, none of that!" Aegon groans, drunk and unamused. Nothing will bring his spirits down, not even his far more intimidating younger brother. "These are happy news. Something about a successful betrothal, I hear?" he declares, nudging Ramsay to make the announcement.

Ramsay locks eyes with you, and you manage to give a stiff smile, aware of the simmering rage of the one seated beside you.

"Allow me," Aemond stands, raising his cup to the entire table.

"Even better," Aegon shrugs, "you have always been excellent at dinner proclamations, lēkia." Brother, he addresses Aemond, his own Valyrian disjointed and careless.

Aegon sits back down and raises his cup. A confused but still smiling Ramsay returns to sit next to you.

Ramsay hurriedly tells you, "I was hoping to share the news myself, my lady, but - "

"Do I not have your attention, Lord Beesbury?" Aemond interrupts.

"O-of course, you do, my prince," Ramsay stammers, reaching for his cup with shaky fingers. You take notice and place your hand atop his to provide comfort.

Someone else takes notice, unfortunately.

"A toast," Aemond voices clearly, and a hush falls over the room, "to a new betrothal."

"Hear, hear," Aegon responds, taking a sip of firewine and waving for the others to do the same.

But Aemond is not finished just yet. "We are not often afforded the privilege to marry for love, and that is what makes this union so exceptional."

You stiffen in your seat, dreading the next words that you know will come out of his mouth. For you know him so well. You know Aemond's design.

"It is an honour to take my love to be my wife," he raises his cup as he gestures to you, and you swear you could hear a pin drop in the deafening silence that ensued. "She is already the keeper of my heart, so the ceremony will only be a formality. But I shall take her as mine in every way that I can. In front of the old gods and the new."

You are unable to drop Aemond's gaze, unable to see the look of betrayal Ramsay is giving you.

"Hear, hear," Ser Criston offers, in an attempt to cut through the tension.

Aegon releases a fit of laughter, prompting his fawners to follow suit.

"Seven hells!" he exclaims. "More wine, more wine for all!"

Aemond rushes to you, pulling you out of your chair, not paying mind to anything or anyone else.

"Come with me," he commands, his fingers tight around your wrist.

You feel powerless as you let him herd you away from the table and out of the hall.

"Oh, would you look at them!" Aegon practically squeals, and calls after you, "It is customary for the bedding to be after the wedding, you two! But then again, who fucking cares?"

taglist: @immyowndefender @bellameshipper @aemondswifeisme @bash1018 @fuck-the-reaper @shessthunderstoms @aemondsbabygirl @melsunshine @youtoldalie @snh96 @noxytopy @ellooo0ooo @brianochka @not-a-glad-gladiator @mac95650 @whitejuliana1204 @midnightmystic @saminalloxo @oh-no-tia @magnificentsapphiresoul @clara-geekhime @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @ananas26t @iloveallmyboys @carriellie @summerposie @verycollectivecreator @toodlesxcuddles @brie-annwyl @dc-marvel-girl96 @bellstwd @bibli0thecary @happinessinthebeing @magnificentsapphiresoul @rorawinters @targaryen-madness @hanula18 @rhaenattargaryen @an0ther-us3r @sugurubabe @theshatteredideal @let-love-bleeds-red @s-we-e-t-t-ea @mydemimonde @the-intjs-dark-academic @heavenly1927 @anehkael @minttea07 @barnes70stark @cheneyq

[cartierre]

BRUTAL OUT HERE | op81

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU oscar piastri x fem!singer!reader (fc: olivia rodrigo)

side note: the way i used to dislike oscar and now i'm so immensely proud of what he's achieved is crazy. what a character arc of me.

♡ liked by conangray, oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter and 238,495 others

yourusername i am beyond the moon happy and proud to announce that my debut album is out now in store and on all music platforms! having worked on this for so long, it feels like seeing my little child grow up 🫶🏻 my team and i invested a lot of time and effort into this and i'm insanely excited for you to experience it. let me hear your thoughts and opinion on this! 💜

view all 7,293 comments

user1 JUST LISTENED TO IT AND I AM NOT OKAY

user2 the way this captures the spirit of being a teenage girl so well ⤷ user3 she literally took my feelings and put it into words it's incredible

conangray i'm so proud of my babygirl comment liked by yourusername ⤷ yourusername ah stop! you helped me so much in the process, huge huge thank you for supporting me 🫶🏻😭 ⤷ user4 i love y/n's and conan's friendship so so much!

oscarpiastri 💜🖤 ⤷ user5 OSCAR?

♡ liked by conangray, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 201,394 others

tagged: conangray

yourusername the last few weeks have been absolutely crazy! i've recieved so much love and positive feedback for 'SOUR' ... i can't even describe how loved and appreciated i feel. i love you guys so much!

view all 6,283 comments

user6 you deserve this so much!! your music makes me feel so many emotions, it's incredible

user7 can't believe how far you've come! been listening to your solos for so long and now you have a whole album aaahh ⤷ user8 remember when she used to upload covers on youtube?

oscarpiastri insanely proud! comment liked by yourusername

user9 oscar is being a bit suspicious these days i don't trust him ⤷ user10 lando is also liking sooo something is brewing in the paddock for sure

♡ liked by conangray, madisonbeer, oscarpiastri and 302,183 others

yourusername my first performance here in melbourne (my hometown) felt so fucking special i'm in tears from how amazing you guys were! my official tour dates are coming soon!

view all 8,283 comments

user11 is it true that you and oscar are childhood friends ⤷ user12 what if they're dating ⤷ user13 what if sour is actually about him?

conangray ahhh i'm so proud of my bestie! comment liked by yourusername ⤷ yourusername couldn't have done it without your pep talk

user14 someone said sour is about oscar and y/n's former relationship? ⤷ user15 is this confirmed?

oscarpiastri what an amazing show 💜 comment liked by yourusername

♡ liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter and 328,283 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris

yourusername cat's out of the bag thanks to this dingus

view all 8,094 comments

user16 no because it's kinda sweet they revealed their relationship during oscar's homerace (even if it was accidental) ⤷ user17 and her having had her first concert a week ago in melbourne as well (which he attended) like since when is melbourne so romantic like that

oscarpiastri i already told you i'm really really sorry ⤷ yourusername save your apology and gimme a kiss

landonorris great so now i see your annoying asses in real life AND on social media ⤷ yourusername haters gonna hate

user18 but... i wanna know who the album is about then ⤷ user19 real like babes let us knoooowwww

user20 i love childhood friends to lovers aaahh comment liked by yourusername

[satorusluver]

Virgin!Choso x fem!reader

Minors DNI

Word count: 650 ish

Tags/warnings: she/her pronouns, hand job, blow job for like two seconds, premature ejaculation lol

Choso, who is 150+ years old but has never been intimate with anyone, so he's shy and nervous and so so sensitive when you two first start doing things. He audibly gasps when you first palm him through his robes, and at first you think maybe you've done something wrong. But when you ask him if he's okay he gives an eager nod, his dark eyes already glazing over with pleasure and you've barely even touched him. And when you ask him if he'd like to go further, he chokes out a desperate "please, my love" in that deep voice of his.

Choso, who lets out a soft whimper when you finally free his cock from its confines and an even louder one when you wrap your hand around it. His dick is hot and heavy in your hand, already twitching and throbbing and aching to be touched. It's even prettier than you imagined it would be, too -perfectly straight, long and pale with a girth a little thicker than average, and a dark pink mushroom head that's already weeping precum from how excited he is.

Choso, who's never been touched by anyone else in that way, who's surprisingly vocal for someone who's usually so quiet as you slowly pump him up and down, taking your time trying to figure out how he likes it. Except he likes anything you do, every touch is heaven to him. It's unlike anything he could have imagined to feel your soft hand on him, and when your thumb rubs along his leaking slit, he involuntarily bucks his hips up into your hand with a low "oh, fuuuck." Your slow but firm touch feels so good that after only a few minutes he's already beginning to feel that pleasurable pressure building in the pit of his stomach, feeling his abs tense slightly each time you stroke your hand up his length.

Choso, whose pale face is so red and flustered at the sight of his pretty girlfriend lowering her face down to his achingly hard cock. He can't help but note the size of it compared to your face, but all coherent thoughts fly out the window the moment your hand curls around his base and your tongue comes out. His breath hitches in his throat when you slowly, teasingly lick your way up his length, never once breaking eye contact. It's the hottest thing Choso has ever seen, you're the hottest thing Choso has ever seen, and before he can stop himself, he's blowing his load then and there like the pathetic virgin he is. He opens his mouth to warn you, but all that comes out is a strangled moan before his cock twitches violently and a thick load of cum spurts out messily, covering your face in the thick, white substance.

Choso barely has time to enjoy the sweet sensation before he's panting out an apology, his whole body still tingling with the aftermath of his orgasm. "I'm sorry, shit, I'm so sorry. I couldn't help it, you were so good and you know I-" he babbles on, his face only turning redder with every word. Choso is petrified, terrified you'll be angry with him, disgusted with him, that you'll think he's as pathetic as he feels right now. So it's much to his surprise when you let out an amused giggle instead of a repulsed groan. And even more so when you wipe a streak of his cum off your face with two of your fingers before bringing those fingers to your lips and sucking them clean with an all too pleased smirk.

"It's okay, baby," you reassure him gently, "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." You lean down once more to place a brief kiss to his still half-hard cock with a little wink. "I'll clean myself up and then maybe we can try again in a little while, yeah?"

[superprofesh]

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 5

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The fifth time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — when you finally decide you've waited long enough to tell him what he means to you.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.5k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer, @chemococktailonthehouse, @1word (sending directly to the rest because Tumblr isn't cooperating)

Author’s Note: Things are heating up!!! As you can tell, this chapter is a bit longer, and I can promise you, it's got a lot of good stuff in it :D By far my favorite chapter to write so far. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have, and I appreciate all your kind words and support so much!!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

A week after you’ve made an official friendship declaration with Colt Seavers, you’re back on the dim, grimy underground train station set, getting ready to watch him throw himself in front of a moving train.

At the moment, Colt is standing on the other side of the train tracks, and you’re watching him from a considerable distance across the set. You have every reason to be there — this is the set you’ve been working on day and night for the last month, after all — but you’re not the least bit worried about any of your props or decorations. All you care about is making sure Colt pulls off one of his most dangerous stunts yet.

It’s been a strange week for you. On one hand, you’re glad that Colt knows you have some feelings for him, and that your friendship has been able to carry on without becoming awkward. His sincere, unexpected apology only made your feelings stronger, but you’re trying to ignore that.

All the same, being “just friends” is the slowest, most excruciating torture you’ve ever known. For one whole week, Colt has not done a single thing that could be interpreted as overly flirtatious, just as he promised he wouldn’t so you could be spared the pain. No subtle touches, no saucy looks, no double-edged words. It’s kind of him, really.

It also hurts like a razorblade on a third-degree burn.

Still, it’s better than nothing. As long as you can have him in your life in some way, you’re satisfied to try to quell these overwhelming feelings that threaten to break free at any moment. You’re in love with him — you know that now if you never knew it before — but you just have to be content knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way. That you have to love him as you’d love a friend.

So here you are, being a supportive friend as he casts himself headfirst into a dangerous situation. This stunt involves standing in for the film’s star, Tom Ryder, whose character is supposed to be shackled to a railroad track directly in the path of a moving train, only to break free just in time. Colt’s job is to pretend to be shackled down and jump up in plenty of time to clear the path of the moving train, which is, to your great dismay, not a prop in the slightest.

As the camera crew makes their last arrangements to start filming this shot, Colt turns from fiddling with a handcuff prop to catch your eyes in the crowd that has gathered to watch. He smiles when he sees you, lifting a hand in greeting and throwing his trademark thumbs-up high above his head.

Your heart speeds up at the sight of Colt’s smile, and you wave back at him in what you hope is an encouraging manner.

“Hey, relax,” a female voice says in your ear. You turn to see Holly grinning at you as she walks back to the cameras that are already in position. “He’s done this kind of thing a million times.”

You cut your eyes at her with a smirk. “I’m not worried,” you insist.

Holly lifts both eyebrows and laughs at you, always able to read what you’re really thinking. You laugh with her, glad to feel the knot in your stomach loosening a little. Holly gives your hand a quick squeeze in encouragement before taking her place at the lead camera station.

When you look back at the set, Colt is already in position, crouched down on one knee with his hands behind his back. You know he’s not actually tied down, but even seeing the fake handcuffs almost makes you wish you hadn’t come to watch.

Elijah Gordon, the director, is shouting some instructions at the crew as they make their last-minute preparations. He’s already cued the train to start moving, as it takes nearly half a mile to get the desired speed for the shot.

“One minute, people!” Gordon bellows, situating himself on a camera dolly high enough that he can see the action below. “We’re doing this in one take, or we’re not doing it at all. Colt, remember I want it to look real!”

Colt grins up at Gordon, his face smeared with fake dirt and his teeth shining like a white band through the grime. “It is real, Gordon!”

Gordon gives a curt nod, then listens to a voice over the walkie-talkie. Though your mind is focused on watching Colt, you can’t help the creeping disdain that you always feel when it comes to Elijah Gordon. The man is a phenomenal director, but he’s also the most callous, self-centered, inconsiderate person you’ve ever known. Knowing Colt’s life is more or less in Gordon’s hands makes you feel queasy.

The train whistle pierces the echoey tunnel chamber, and Gordon lifts his megaphone to shout, “Roll cameras!”

You put both hands over your mouth, dreading having to watch the scene play out. Colt looks entirely confident where he kneels on the railroad track, but you can’t help wondering what he feels in moments like this. Does he get scared? Does he lose faith in his own abilities? Does he ever doubt that the stunt will work perfectly? Can he afford to think like that?

A second train whistle stabs your ears, and you can feel your heart beating faster than ever before. You feel like you’re the one lingering on the tracks.

You can see the train now, and your eyes flit back to Colt, whose face is mostly hidden by the bandanna tied around his forehead. His muscles are tensed, ready to spring away at the perfect second. Gordon is shouting directions, his voice barely audible above the racket of the approaching train. He holds up his hand high in the air, signaling to Colt to stay in position.

The train eats up another hundred feet. Two hundred. Three hundred. Five hundred. Gordon’s hand doesn’t budge, and Colt keeps his eyes on the director for his cue to move.

You can hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears, and it takes all your willpower not to screw your eyes shut. You keep them open as if caught in a trance, bouncing back and forth between Colt and the train as if you’re watching a tennis match.

The train rumbles closer and closer, now near enough that you can see the face of the man driving the engine. You hold your breath, waiting for Gordon to throw his hand down in a signal to Colt.

But Gordon’s hand doesn’t move. Another screeching whistle. The train is less than a hundred yards away now.

You know he should have given Colt the signal by now — you were there for the days of blocking and planning that went into this scene. Suddenly your lungs constrict as you realize Gordon is pushing Colt for a few more seconds on the tracks, long enough to make the film audiences gasp.

“Stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs, but your voice is drowned out by the roar of the train. Your feet are carrying you in a sprint before you even register your own movement. Two hundred feet away now.

“Gordon, stop it!” The director can’t hear you, but Holly does, whirling around and grabbing you by both arms to stop you from getting any closer to the set. You can see Colt’s eyes get wider as he realizes that Gordon isn’t lowering his arm.

Everything in your entire being is shuddering, wanting to shut down, wanting to scream, to explode into action, but Holly beckons for two other crew members to help hold you back. All you can do is watch as the train draws closer and Colt waits for Gordon’s signal. One hundred feet.

“Holly, make him stop!” you scream at your friend, whose distressed expression tells you you’re not alone in your confused panic.

At the last second, with the train less than fifty feet away, Gordon throws his hand down, and Colt is already in motion, somersaulting off the track and into the safety zone as the train — all forty tons of it — whizzes over the space that Colt occupied seconds ago.

Holly and her two crew members hold you back a second longer, and when the red light on the camera flickers off, you break past them and run as fast as you can onto the set. You can barely see where to step as you climb over the platform and down into the dingy, darkened train tunnel, tears blurring your vision and your pulse hammering in your ears.

Colt is leaning against the wall of the tunnel, his face as white as a ghost. Several crew members have already gathered around him, but you shove past them and throw your arms around his neck, uncaring of what anyone might think. You can feel Colt trembling in your arms even as his easygoing voice whispers in your ear, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Once you’re satisfied that he really is alive, you pull back, framing his face in your hands and searching his eyes with what you know must be a crazed look. Colt doesn’t say anything more; the color is slowly returning to his face, and his nerves are calming down now that the adrenaline wears off. He doesn’t, however, loosen his grip on you, betraying how shaken he still is.

“Nice work, Colt,” bellows a voice from the train platform. “That was just what we needed.”

At the sound of Gordon’s voice, all you can see is red.

Setting your jaw, you turn away from Colt and stride back to the platform with more rage than you can remember feeling in your entire life. Every muscle in your body is quaking visibly, and your voice rings out loud and clear over the chaos in the set when you shout, “How dare you?”

Gordon turns from his conversation with a cameraman and gives you a nonplussed glance. When he realizes that your yell and your power walk are directed at him, he dismisses the cameraman to deal with you head-on.

“Something you want to discuss?” Gordon asks you, condescension dripping from his voice.

Behind you, you hear Colt making his way onto the platform, his calm voice assuring you, “Hey, it’s okay—”

But you’re not in the mood to be comforted. “It is not okay, Colt,” you shout, your eyes still locked on Gordon. Every eye on the set is directed at you, now that you’ve chosen to make a huge scene with Elijah Gordon himself. Colt pulls to a stop beside you, but your words are still pointed at Gordon. “How could you make him do that? How dare you make him do that?”

“There wasn’t any real risk, kid,” Gordon says flippantly. “Keep your bonnet on.”

“No real risk?” you demand. “Did we just see the same scene? Colt was trying to get off the tracks to stay alive, and you forced him to stay on longer so you could get a ‘closer call’ on camera.”

Gordon’s brows lower at that. “Again, not life-threatening,” he snaps. “If it were, Colt wouldn’t have finished the stunt, and I wouldn’t have made him do it.”

“You weren’t the one staring down the headlights of a train!”

Colt rests his hand on your elbow in an attempt to get you to calm down, but Gordon fires back at you immediately, “He’s a stuntman, my dear. In case you folks in the set decorating department don’t know what that is, it means he does stunts. Sometimes those stunts are dangerous.”

Gordon’s arrogance only inflames your anger more. “I am completely aware that his job comes with risks,” you shout. “But those risks shouldn’t come from a toffee-nosed director who thinks human life is something to play with like a deck of cards.”

You feel Colt stiffen beside you, and his grip on your arm grows firmer. “Hey, it seriously is okay,” Colt assures you. “Just drop it.”

“I’m not dropping it, Colt. If that train had been a few seconds off count, you wouldn’t be part of this conversation. You’d be in pieces on the train tracks.”

Gordon raises his hands to cut in, replacing the harshness in his voice with honey. “Listen, my dear, let’s just keep a clear picture of who you are, all right? You’re here to make the sets look good. You do that very nicely, and I appreciate it. So why don’t you keep your little toffee-nosed opinions off the set where the actual movies are being made, okay?”

You feel a shift in Colt’s body language again, but this time, it’s directed towards Gordon. You stand your ground, shooting a steely-eyed stare at the director that would make any action star proud.

“I bet your producers wouldn’t appreciate hearing that you risked the life of their top stuntman,” you tell him softly.

Gordon laughs out loud at that, as do a few of the crew members standing around him. “Listen, sweetheart, the producers pay me to make their movies look good,” he informs you. His voice changes then, affecting a curious, offended tone. “Aren’t you the one who’s been on a little crusade lately about doing everything with practical effects? You want to change your stance and say I should do all the stunts in VFX? Your boyfriend will be out of a job if I do that.”

A few more crew members laugh, trying to reduce some of the tension that is radiating between you. You know you’re the only person who’s freaking out about Colt’s close call — it’s not like he hasn’t done this sort of thing before — but you can’t help feeling like this is important.

“You absolute scumbag,” you hiss at Gordon. “You seriously are going to play this off like it’s just part of the process? Colt almost died—”

Holly comes up on your other side now, setting a calming hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, just—”

“I bet your producers would have loved to hear about that—”

“You need to calm down—” Holly says more firmly.

“And don’t you dare try to throw my own words at me like I’ve supported you risking people’s lives for a cool shot—”

Colt’s voice now. “Look, it’s not a big deal—”

“It is a big deal!” you explode, your voice echoing through the train station. “I mean, am I seriously the only one who sees any value in your life?”

Your comment is heavy, and everyone seems to feel the weight of it. Gordon hesitates, his eyes flicking back and forth between you, Colt, and Holly as if to make sure he’s not about to be physically attacked. The usual buzz of the crew is dead silent.

Finally, Gordon clears his throat and says dismissively, “If you’ve got a problem with me, kid, talk to the studio and see if they care. I can promise you they won’t.” He takes one step closer to you, and in a lower voice adds, “And in the meantime, keep your mouth shut about my processes. You’re good at your job, and I’d hate for you to have to get kicked off set just because you can’t keep your personal life separate from your professional one.”

With that, Gordon whirls around and walks back to the cameras to review the shot.

You’re still trembling with anger, your voice drying up in your throat as you realize that everyone in the crowd is still staring at you. You’re not ashamed of what you said, but you’re embarrassed that everyone on set had to witness it.

Ducking your head, you pull away from Colt and Holly and start walking out of the train station set. Only when the warm afternoon air hits your face do you realize tears have been streaming down your cheeks.

Colt is just a few steps behind you, and you look at him wordlessly, trying to read his expression. There’s not a trace of anger or confusion in his eyes — just a deep gratitude and affection. He slings his arm around your shoulders and leads you away from the set.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

The irony of that question isn’t lost on you. “This isn’t about me, Colt,” you state bluntly. You raise questioning eyes to him. “Does it really not bother you that he jeopardized you? Completely unnecessarily?”

Colt shrugs, his brow furrowing as he thinks. He seems so calm now, no traces of the panicky fear he couldn’t hide immediately after the stunt. “If I felt like it was unsafe,” he says carefully, “I would have jumped off the track no matter what he said.”

Another second, and it would have been too late.

“I know,” you acknowledge, a hint of emotion creeping into your voice. “I just… I don’t know. Just… seeing everyone act like it’s so casual and not important. Like your life doesn’t even make that much of a difference—”

“Hey,” Colt murmurs, stopping and turning you to face him so he can put both hands on your shoulders. “You are reading way too far into this, Picasso. No one is trying to eradicate my existence here.”

His tone is light and his eyes twinkling, and you know he’s trying to get you to laugh this off. But you just can’t.

“I know,” you whisper. “I just hate that it seems like I’m the only one who cares if you live or die. Including you.”

Your last statement makes Colt pause. You see the hesitation in his eyes as he mulls over what you’re implying. “Not true,” he replies at last, pulling you back under one arm as you resume walking towards the tents that have been set up for the crew.

“Really? Because you act like you don’t care.” Your voice holds no edge, no accusation. “You get more and more reckless with every stunt, and it just… it kills me to watch.”

You know you’re saying too much. You know you’re pushing the “just friends” agreement. But you can’t stop.

Colt takes his time responding to that. Suddenly, he seems to be really listening to the hidden meanings in your words, realizing that your outburst toward Gordon was indicative of something a lot deeper, something that you’re trying to communicate to him now. You can feel his steady heartbeat against your side, the gentle pressure of his hand on your shoulder. His steps are perfectly synchronized with yours.

“Look, I don’t have a death wish,” Colt explains at last, a serious note in his voice. “This is my job; I love the danger that comes with it. It’s like I said, both of us do our jobs because it’s our passion, no matter the risks.”

You shake your head. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was mad at you.”

Colt genuinely chuckles at that. “Believe me, it was obvious who you were mad at.”

“I guess I overdid it, huh?” You can feel some of the intense anger in your chest melting, and you let yourself release a slight laugh as you realize just what a spectacle you made: screaming at one of the world’s top directors on his own set.

“Maybe a little,” Colt confirms kindly. Once the two of you step inside one of the empty tents, he lifts his arm off your shoulders, and you turn to lean back against one of the wooden tables so you can face him. His face is still smeared with grime, and it suddenly reminds you of the moment you shared a few weeks ago, marking each other’s faces with your oil paints.

“I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about it,” you concede, letting your gaze fall to the ground. “I just… felt like it needed to be said after literally everyone on set witnessed it.”

Colt nods, smirking at you and crossing his arms to lean against one of the structure beams. “Hey, I appreciated it,” he says with a wink. “No one’s ever challenged a director to demand safer working conditions for me.”

“Maybe it’s about time,” you shoot back, your heart speeding up.

“Maybe.”

The moment falls quiet. The tent is empty besides the two of you, and all you can hear is the sound of each other’s breathing and the gentle rustling of the wind against the flaps of the tent. Colt tilts his head back against the beam he’s leaning on, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. You can tell that this stunt took a toll on him, even if he’s not showing it.

Without warning, all the feelings you’ve been hiding for the last few months threaten to spill out of your lips. Maybe it was seeing him so close to death; maybe it was your impassioned rant; maybe it’s just what happens when you love someone with the desperation of a drowning person reaching for air.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you blurt out, “I really do care about you, you know.”

Colt doesn’t open his eyes or lift his head back up. “Well, if I didn’t, I certainly do now.”

His tone is humorous, but you’re not letting it go now that you’re committed. It’s now or never. “No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I know we’re just doing the friendship thing, but either way, I really care about you.” Colt lifts his head to fix his eyes on you, and you choose your next words carefully so he won’t misunderstand your meaning. “If you ever think that no one cares if you survive the stunts or not, I hope you know it’s not true. There’s one person in the world who would probably go insane without you around.”

Colt doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t sound completely serious either when he responds, “Ah, you’d be fine.”

“Please tell me you don’t honestly think that.”

“Look, Picasso, I’m just one guy in the world,” Colt reminds you, shaking his head as if he’s explaining something very simple. “You’re going to meet thousands in your career, which I know is going to be super long and super star-studded. You’ve got everything in your life to look forward to.”

You frown at him, caught off guard by his seemingly off-topic response. “Colt, what are you even talking about?”

He swallows hard, looking off to the side and trying to disguise the emotion tinging his voice. “I’m just… trying to tell you not to put so many big expectations on me. I’m the kind of guy who can only let you down.”

Your heart plummets at his words, and suddenly everything falls into place in your mind. He does care. He’s always cared. He just won’t show it because he thinks he isn’t good enough. The most wonderful man in the world thinks he isn’t good enough.

“That is not true,” you declare, standing up straight for emphasis. “You’re the kindest person I know, and the smartest, and the bravest, and the funniest—”

“I think you’re confusing me with Keanu Reeves.”

“I’m not joking around, Colt. When I’m with you, I can just be myself, and I know you’re going to be there for me. You’ve seen me at my worst, but you act like you only remember me at my best. I know it sounds crazy, but I keep getting this feeling that everything in my life has led up to meeting you. Everything you do means so much to me. Every word you say, every minute we spend together is so, so precious to me. You are so precious to me.”

Your speech seems to stun Colt senseless. You have no idea where all that came from — you just knew that you wouldn’t be able to breathe until you had told him what you were feeling. Colt stands still as he processes your words, and you don’t regret a single one.

“Wow,” he finally whispers. “I have no follow-up for that.”

You shake your head, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “You don’t need one,” you tell him. “I just… felt like I should say it.”

Colt mulls over your words again. You wonder if anyone has ever talked to him like this, if you’re really the first one who has ever looked at him like he hung the moon in the sky. How could I be? How is it possible that no one else has ever recognized you for the treasure that you are?

“It means a lot,” Colt replies softly. “Seriously, you… you have no idea. Thank you.”

You just nod in response, not sure where to go from here. Colt isn’t acting like himself, overcome by some emotion that you’re not sure of. You don’t know whether to reiterate your statements, or to wait for him to say something, or to just stand in silence together for awhile.

Colt finally breaks the silence. “You sure you’re okay?”

You almost laugh at that, some of the tension sliding out of the atmosphere. “Yeah,” you assure him with a smile. “As long as you are.”

He nods at you, his own smile returning in a quiet sort of way. You’re transfixed by the gentle light reflecting in his eyes, the relaxed slope of his shoulders, when he holds out both arms to you, lifting an eyebrow as an invitation.

You don’t hesitate for a second. Why should you, after you just confessed every secret thought in your heart?

You step into the warm circle of his arms, and he immediately lowers his forehead to rest in the curve of your neck. Colt seems so unsure of himself in this moment, in a way that you’ve never known him to be. He’s trembling slightly again the way he was after he had just leaped off the railroad tracks. You grip your arms around his neck even tighter, and Colt wraps his arms around you so tightly you can barely breathe.

In that moment, you know your assumption was correct. He does care about you as deeply as you do about him. You can feel it in his embrace, in his very heartbeat. Every time you move to pull him closer, he mirrors your movements, closing every inch of space that has ever separated you. The grimy film makeup on his face rubs off on your neck, but it’s the sweetest touch you ever felt.

Colt catches you off guard when he tilts his head just slightly to the side, just enough that his lips are resting on the side of your neck. His manner isn’t seductive or suggestive: it’s as if he’s just breathing you in, trying to memorize the feel of you in his arms. Your sensitive skin prickles at the sensation, and one of your hands finds its way up to thread in the ragged-cut hair at the base of his neck.

You can feel his impressive strength just by the way he holds you, but you can’t help marveling at the gentleness of his hands when he reaches up to stroke the back of your head, once, twice. When he cradles the base of your neck with all the tenderness of an old lover, your stomach twists itself into a knot. He’s killing you. It’s magnificent.

Colt finally lifts his head from your shoulder, his hand still resting at the back of your head. His thumb moves in lazy circles, as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and his eyes drag up your face slowly until they meet your own in a gaze that burns hotter than a supernova.

“I’ve never told you,” you whisper, your breath filling the few inches between your faces, “and I know I probably shouldn’t, but I’m in love with you.”

The words are hardly out of your mouth when Colt squeezes his eyes closed, a look of pain crossing his face. “Don’t. It’s not worth it,” he whispers back.

“It’s too late for that,” you tell him, tears choking your voice. “You don’t have to feel the same way. I just needed you to know.”

Colt doesn’t open his eyes, just shakes his head. “You don’t want to be in love with me,” he says softly, heartbreakingly. “My destination is a dead-end, and you deserve better than that.”

“Colt, I—”

“It’s better if we don’t go this route,” he tells you, opening his eyes so you can read the seriousness in his words. “You’ve got the most amazing future ahead of you. You’re going to be a lot better off without me dragging you down.”

Your heart constricts at his words. “Don’t you dare try to be noble about this,” you murmur, lifting your hands to frame his face. “You could never drag me down, and I couldn’t care less about what you think I ‘deserve.’ All I care about is you. All I want to do is love you, no matter what happens. If you really don’t feel that way about me, just say so. But if you feel as strongly for me as I do for you, please tell me. Please don’t break this off before we have a chance to even try it.”

The look that wells up in Colt’s eyes speaks to you in a language you’ve never understood before. His eyes roam your face, as if he’s searching for some hint that your words aren’t true, some way he can talk you out of your feelings. Realization dawns in his eyes as he reads the message you’re saying in everything but your words. I love you. I’ve loved you this whole time. You will always be enough for me. My heart is so full of you it barely even feels like it’s mine anymore.

He doesn’t kiss you — the distance between your lips and his feels like an interminable distance — but he lowers his face to yours in a way that is so tender, so intimate that all the breath leaves your body at once. He lets his cheek rest against yours, his beard brushing your skin softly, gently. You let your arms wrap around his neck again to pull him closer, nuzzling the side of his face with yours so he feels your meaning: I don’t ever want to let you go.

When his lips brush against your jaw, right below your ear, you can’t suppress your sharp intake of breath. You feel his hands resting on your waist, pulling you close against him, and you can hear his breath coming raggedly. He’s so different when he’s like this — no false confidence, no alleviating jokes, just the passion he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

You slide your fingers into his hair, and you can feel him react to your touch instantly. He raises his face from where he’s been resting it against yours, savoring in the contact every slow inch he moves. His eyes are closed when he brings his face level with yours again, his breath ghosting over your lips in a way that is so effortlessly tantalizing. It takes all your strength not to tip your head back and drown in his kiss.

With his hand still resting on the back of your neck, Colt pulls you in close one more time, letting his forehead touch yours gently. You close your eyes, breathing in the scent that envelops him — pine needles, cinnamon, and something salty. One moment more, just enough to savor how it feels to be wrapped up in the very essence of him, and Colt pulls back, releasing you from his hold.

“I just can’t do it to you, Picasso,” Colt says, his voice hoarse and strained. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart plummets at his words. It wasn’t enough. All of it wasn’t enough to convince him of your love. Your words are the opposite of what you want to say, but you know there can be no other response. “If that’s what you want,” you answer quietly. “I’ll respect it.”

“I know.”

You take a few steps back, trying to ignore the agony that is so obvious is his voice. Colt still looks like he wants to snatch you back into his arms and beg you to repeat the confession you just laid at his feet, but he doesn’t. He’s too strong, too stubborn, too sure he’s truly doing the right thing by letting you go. You don’t try to talk him out of it. You love him too much to try to change his mind.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “You take care of yourself,” you murmur with a sad smile. “I mean it.”

“I will.” Colt doesn’t even attempt a smile back, the ache in his heart obvious on his face. His gaze wanders over your face for a moment longer, and then he turns and ducks out of the tent.

Once he’s gone, all you can do is bury your face in your hands and weep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 6

[mimimui]

comma after dearest (genshin impact)

wherein (character) reacts a certain way to a grammar mistake you made in your letter (or was it?)

includes: kazuha, ayato, thoma, xiao, zhongli, alhaitham, kaveh, scaramouche

tags: a bit unserious writing, fluff, i am obssessed with "it changed the meaning, did you intend this?" forgive me, not proofread

a/n: not sure if anyone's done this before, but take it as my apology for not having written in a while (╥﹏╥) my fever + colds are killing me & i have a lot of scheduled things to do for school aaaa. maybe i can write this with other fandoms as well ? (and character x character ships hehe) .. enjoy !

kazuha notices it immediately. aside from all the work with the fleet, he spends time reading—or rereading—your letters. written messages aren't uncommon when he's at sea, but this letter was different. had you made a mistake with your punctuation? no, it can't be, you've always opened your letters with "my dearest kazuha".

he blinked at the words, now seeing a comma between the word 'dearest' and his name. as much as he was confused, he was flustered. if this wasn't a mistake, and that you intentionally called him your dearest, then it's a shame you can't see how absolutely smitten he is for you right now.

ayato is busy going through papers and folders when he sees an envelope slide under his door. he chuckles as he reads his name in your writing, carefully picking it up and opening it. you have a habit of writing him letters and sliding it under his door while he works, which ayato finds very endearing.

when he reads "my dearest, ayato", his smile only widens more, finding new motivation to finish his assignments for the day so he can get to you as soon as possible. he knows how much effort you put into writing these short, yet loving, letters when he places this one on his (already full of other letters) pinboard.

thoma takes a while to realize, but when he finally notices it, his heart rate increases by a concerning amount. he loves you so much to the point that when he reads "my dearest, thoma", there's hearts in his eyes. thoma's so much happier after reading your letter, and now he's doing everything smiling.

ayaka told him he looks brighter than usual today, and ayato even asked him if he received good news. of course, he was shy about this, but he told the kamisato siblings it was nothing to worry about. though, he continues to do his work with a little bounce in step.

xiao denies it. he thinks he's read it wrong at first, but when he looks over at it again, it is confirmed that you did write him as your dearest. forgetting about the rest of the contents of the letter, xiao began to contemplate. an error like that was unlikely, especially since you're fond of writing.

the next time you meet, he has a hard time trying to bring up the topic. he knows you meant what you wrote, but he wants you to confirm it. when you tell him, "yes, i mean it." he tries to hold back a smile. keyword: tries.

zhongli adores the salutation. or rather, he adores you. he appreciates the sweet, small detail you added in. zhongli hurriedly, yet carefully, writes you a letter back, addressing you as "my dearest, (y/n)" and replying to the contents you had in yours.

he never really indulged in using endearments, but ever since your letter, he's only even been calling you his 'dearest'. when greeting you, when asking for your attention, when talking about you, whenever. zhongli's never said it outloud, but you know he absolutely loves that nickname now.

alhaitham is amused. he thinks you genuinely made a mistake in your letter, but doesn't address it until he returns to sumeru. when you see him again, he brings it up, expecting to be able to playfully taunt you about it. but he was so wrong.

"but you're my dearest. how is that wrong grammar?" you say, turning the situation around and teasing him instead. alhaitham wanted to tease you so much that he didn't bother to think of other possibilities. he's defeated, and all he can say is, "...i have no reply."

kaveh doesn't know how to react to it. should he be flustered, or correcting you for the mistake? was it even a mistake? he does write you a letter back, but best believe he immediately asks you about it as soon as he comes back home. "did you intend this?" he says, showing you your letter.

when you nod your head, all the shyness and blush that should've came in before came in now. kaveh uses the folded letter to cover his smile, but it's too wide and too bright to even try to. when you tease him about it, he strongly denies having his heart race from it.

scaramouche chooses to ignore it. he knows you wrote that punctuation on purpose, but he doesn't want show that he's thinking about it. this ultimately failed when he doesn't write you back, and you knew something was up with him. once he returns and he acts indifferent, you bring it up.

his eyes widen as he looks away, realizing he forgot to reply to that letter. scaramouche hesitates before quietly apologizing, mumbling something about 'my dearest' and 'running out of paper'.

thanks for reading (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[hxlda-hxlda]

thank u thank u @fiddleleafedfig for the tag !!

nine people you want to get to know better

last song: when i opened the tag, 'alien blues' by vundabar but currently i'm listening to hozier 'would that i'. as of finishing writing this, radiohead. there you have it.

favourite colour: a deep cherry red. the kind that would make a really lovely lipstick gloss.

last movie/tv show: i'm terrible with shows and movies, but i was watching the bowie doco (moonage daydream) the other day, keeping on brand ik. i also love british comedians so 'would i lie to you?' is probably up there as well.

sweet/savoury/spicy: sweet if it is really well done. i'm talking specifically that one pub down by where i live that for some reason makes the best chocolate lava cake ever. if not, savoury forever.

last thing i googled: beatles guitar songs for beginners. i've decided to relearn guitar and i'm back to the absolute basics.

current obsession: concerts! this is a long-standing love but it is very evident lately. the way concerts down here work is that no one comes for years bc of the trek to aus, and then randomly there's this one month period where everybody is here at once and suddenly i have to choose between favs. that has been this month! hard on the bank account but my soul is thriving with a concert every other week. saw noah kahan, it was life-altering.

last book: i'm between the '50 yrs of led zeppelin' biography by mick wall, and 'anna karenina' by tolstoy atm. (adding it) last fic: blends by rvltn909. finished it yesterday and oh my god. the crime that was me putting it off.

looking forward to: still a little ways away, but i'm moving to america for (my) winter-spring!! i've work in the states, which i'm thrilled abt. it also means i am tracking down artists who refuse to concert in aus (hozier for the love of god) and trying to sneak them in as well.

np tags (apologies if you've already been tagged): @fairylittlebitch @alltoounwellll @the-moon-says-hi @just--vi @whyistarchaser @bellaxisworld @feminist-cult-following @none-of-it-was-accidental @svnflowermoon + ofc anybody else who wants to. tag me. let me know you all.

[zepskies]

Hey, I’ve really enjoyed reading your imagines. Would you be up for writing one where either Dean / Solider Boy / Beau, I don’t mind, has done something to upset/piss off the reader and goes out his way to make it up to her and then it’s all fluffy? I’m definitely in the readers position right now and hoping that’s what’s happening! Thank you.

Hey lovely anon!

Ooh this is interesting. So you didn't exactly ask for this, but this is where my mind went. I really enjoyed doing an imagine called "How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to seeing your breast reduction scars."

So I'm going to do this one in that style...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Tags/Warnings: Angst, arguments, hurt/comfort, fluff

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would make up for pissing you off.

Dean Winchester

Readers of Devour Me will recognize this scenario...

Dean can be an asshole sometimes. He knows it, but that side of him tends to come out along with his protective side.

He gave you...what you would consider a "firm suggestion" on a hunt. In his mind, it was a warning you were meant to follow: hang back.

The vampire nest was bigger than you guys expected.

You jumped in to save the woman they were keeping chained...but she was already drained dry. A vamp caught you, but before you could swing your knife, hot teeth sank into your neck.

Your scream rang through the air, tearing from your throat.

Dean's machete soon followed, killing the vampire and saving you in the process. He hid the depths of his worry. His fear, when he heard your scream, saw the monster bearing on you.

He buried the true depths of that turmoil and later holds you while Cas heals you. You thank him with a sigh and look up at Dean. Before you can apologize for ignoring his warning, his words simultaneously cut you to the bone and spark a blaze:

"I hope you learned your damn lesson," he says.

"Excuse me?" you hotly reply.

"You fucking heard me! When I say 'hang back,' I mean it. Hang the hell back."

"I've been hunting long before I met you, Dean."

"Yeah, well. Color me surprised that you've made it this long."

And that sparks the knock-down drag-out fight you and Dean have in the dirty, blood-splattered barn in the middle of nowhere. Even Sam and Cas are uncomfortable in the midst of you and Dean as they deal with the bodies of the vamps.

You don't let Dean touch you that night, even though you two still share the same bed. You sleep turned away from him, curled in on yourself.

He doesn't know how to make you understand. The sight of you with blood covering your neck and shoulder, running down over and under your shirt...

He hates it more than anything.

Even in the morning, the memory of your scream rings in his ears.

You've woken up before him, leaving your side of the bed empty. He wanders into the kitchen and finds you with your cup of coffee, stirring the creamer in for far too long. He watches you for a moment. He sees you're lost in thought. Maybe your eyes are a bit haunted.

He hates that too.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets. His voice is still a deep rumble, but his gentleness is an olive branch.

You recognize that, and your own features soften. The truth is, you're too upset and spent to be angry anymore. You really just need him back.

He guides you into his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead, and sighs.

"...Look, I'm sorry," he says. He's grateful, even for this moment. Because it means you're safe, with him.

"I'm sorry too," you reply. You squeeze him tighter and bury your face in his chest. "I love you."

Dean hesitates. His heart clenches, both with warmth and the fear of what could have been. He lets out another deep breath as his fingers soothe through your hair.

"Love you too."

Beau Arlen

Don't let that adorable scruff fool you. Beau has his moments, just like everyone else...

You don't want to feel like the jealous "other woman." Because that certainly isn't what you are.

You and Beau have been dating for a while now. You know this is something special. He is special. A big-hearted man who leads by example, and makes his daughter a priority in his life.

You admire that more than anything. You've come to love Emily as well...

However, he's been consistently cancelling on you. Dates you'd planned, dinners you'd made, "office picnics" at the precinct that got rain-checked more than the goddamn weather channel.

It seems like any time you and Beau try to carve out a moment for each other, it gets waylaid by something that "just can't wait."

Sometimes it's due to the demands of his job (which you understand).

But more often, it's because he seems to drop everything to heed his ex-wife's requests, large and small. From moving boxes in downsizing her house, to picking up her dry cleaning.

Carla always laces her requests (demands) with something understandable, like dropping off Emily at school. As a lawyer, she's smart like that.

But you're smart too, and you see her game.

She's slowly but surely wrapping Beau around her finger, and it's driving you insane.

"Can't you see she's manipulating you?!" you finally ask him. Your hands gesture widely, your brows are knitted together, and so are Beau's. His mouth is pressed in a line.

"The hell do you mean?" he asks.

"Exactly what I'm saying," you retort. "She asks you to jump, and you say, How high, darlin'?"

Part of him wants to smile at your exaggerated Texan approximation of him. But mostly, he's irritated.

"That's not true! I'm just trying to do right by her. She's the mother of my kid--"

Your hand presses against your forehead.

"I know that, Beau. Of course I do," you say. Against your will, your deepest fears take hold. They make you feel ugly inside for thinking them, let alone saying them.

"But...either she wants you back, or maybe you want her."

Beau's frown deepens. "What? What're you talkin' about."

He tries to grab your hand, but you evade him. You cross your arms to give you the excuse you need to hold yourself together.

He blows out a frustrated breath and shakes his head. "She left me, remember?"

"Things change. Feelings change," you say hotly. Your eyes run over his face, as if trying to search his heart.

Beau finally understands just what you're thinking. He softens.

And then his expression firms.

"Not for me," he says.

He reaches for you. You allow him to grasp your elbows. He steps closer into your line of vision until his broad frame is all you can see, but you refuse to look up at him. Not until his curled finger prods under your chin, raising your face up to his.

His face lacks the jovial nature he usually carries, with a side of teasing that usually drives you crazy and lightens your heart in equal measure.

No. Right now, he's serious. His thumb grazes your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

Your eyes are lowered, with unshed tears swimming in them. Until Beau presses his lips to your cheek. Your eyes close, and you take in the tenderness of his touch. The smell of his cologne.

When you next open your eyes, he's smiling softly down at you. It leads you to smile a little.

"It'd be nice if you didn't cancel on me so much then," you can't help but mutter, a bit petulantly.

Beau's smile slips a bit. "I sure am sorry about that. And I'll talk to Carla. But uh..."

The rest of his good humor fades. "She mentioned something about taking Emily back to Houston."

Your eyes widen. Your hand moves to grip his wrist. "What?"

"I guess I was just...tryin' to butter her up a bit. If she settled in that new house, had everything she needed, maybe she'd stop thinking about leaving," he admits. "I want her to do what's best for Emily, but...I don't know if I can take it if she's in a whole other state."

You bite your lip. You try to soothe him with your fingers carding through his hair. You pull him into your embrace, and the roles of comfort reverse.

"You do need to talk to Carla," you say. "But I want to help, in whatever way I can. You just let me know."

You can't see it, but Beau smiles as he holds you a fraction tighter.

"You already are."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Ugh, this (lovable) bastard...

There are a lot of opportunities to piss you off, and Ben has a habit of taking them.

He's protective, misogynistic (though you're surely trying with him), and doesn't give two shits about modern social protocols like tolerance and respect.

Nor does he give a fuck about being "nice" or "pleasant" if he doesn't want to. (And he never wants to.)

When he pisses you off, however, you have to pick your battles.

You're as patient as you can be with him, knowing all of his idiosyncrasies and foibles as well as you've come to learn them.

But when he nearly snaps a man's arm off for grabbing your ass in a musky club, you have to draw the line.

(Ben settled for jabbing the man in the face, hard enough to toss him back into an entire row of glasses. You'd winced at the man's scream of pain as glass shattered into his back.)

When you send your boyfriend a look, he's both unfazed and unapologetic.

"What, would you rather have that greasy fuck pawing all over you? No one's gonna have the balls to cop a feel right in front of me, unless they want 'em shoved up their ass."

You make a face of disgust, roll your eyes, and angrily storm out of the club. Ben follows you, now getting just as irritated. He grabs your arm and turns you around.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he demands. You raise a brow.

"Not everything is an affront to your manhood," you reply testily. "Are you really protecting me, or is it just your petty pride that another man would dare touch what's 'yours?'"

You turn to walk away from him, but he grabs you again. This time by the hand. He barely resists the urge to yank you back.

No, Ben waits for you to choose. To turn back to him. You're frowning in your anger, but even he can see the thread of hurt deep down. The fear that his motivations are only selfish.

His jaw ticks. But he sighs through his nose. "Come 'ere."

Reluctant though you seem, you take a chance in drawing back into him. His arms circle around you, with those heavy hands splaying across your lower back. He cages you securely against him and looks down you. His eyes are a fraction softer.

"You are mine," he says. "I'm not gonna let these cocksuckers forget it. Because I've got plenty of enemies who'd do more than just touch you."

It sucks to be reminded of that fact, but it's the cold reality. Still, you soften, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

He's trying to send the world a clear message: he won't tolerate bullshit, of any kind. Least of all with you.

That, you can appreciate.

And you lean up to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

Knowing Ben, it doesn't stay sweet for long.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 Lots of angst diverted into hurt/comfort and fluff, there.

Do you guys like these Dean/Beau/Ben "reacts?" Let me know! 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

DW, BA & SB Tag List (Part 1):

@melancholictearz @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman

@iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore

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[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

your touch sets me alight, darling

Summary: After the battle with Lorroakan, you tend to Rolan's bruises, and some more things come to the surface

Pairing: Rolan x Tav

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of bruises and blood, hints at past abuse, light spoilers for Rolan's storyline, a lot of fluff and hand touching

A/N: hello! the tiefling wizard has charmed me and this is the result. I hoep you people like it, i apologize already if his characterization is not entirely accurate. Love you all!!!

Tagging: @tripleyeeet @elfinbloodbag @fictionobsession (if you don't want to be tagged, let me know <3)

\_/

Rolan hissed sharply as you patted down his bruised cheekbone with a gauze soaked with alcohol. You winced in response, knowing too well the sharp sting of the disinfectant liquid on an open wound.

"Sorry about that." Your gestures became even more careful after that. "I'm trying to be gentle."

"I know." He inhaled sharply when the cold cloth passed again on his bruise, pressing his lips together not to emit another pained sound. "But your kindness doesn't make it hurt any less."

Sighing at his sharp remark, you shot him a quick and apologetic look before treating the following bruise that cut his features.

"I still don't understand why you didn't use a healing potion," you mumbled softly. "By now you would've been back to one piece already."

The wizard looked at you, one eyebrow raised and an unimpressed look in his eyes. "And waste a perfectly good potion on these insignificant bruises?" He shook his head with a scoff. "I would never do that."

It was your turn to press your lips together in a small pout as you focused back on your task. "I wouldn't call them that."

"Bruises?"

You met his irises, a golden ring decorating his black orbs. "Insignificant."

His gaze trembled for a second before falling to the ground. His eyebrow creased as a stone-like expression set on his face, however the pain behind his eyes was so vivid it almost broke your heart just looking at him. You wished you could’ve just let the cloth in your hand fall to the ground; let your fingers run on his skin, cupping his face and giving him the comfort that he so badly deserved.

"You don't have to worry about me," he murmured calmly, but his hands kept fidgeting with the ends of his tunic. "You've done more than enough already. It's done, I'm fine."

You lowered the gauze for a moment, leaning down to meet Rolan's gaze. "Are you, though?"

"I..."

His eyes locked in yours for a moment. His lips trembled open, moving silently as if they were trying so hard to find the right words to explain what was going on in his brain; what he was feeling and what he had felt before you had arrived.

To finally open up.

A distant voice broke through the silence of the room, rumbling through the walls and bookshelves of Ramazith's Tower, and the moment passed. Rolan cleared his throat, closing both his mouth and himself to you as he straightened his spine and shoulders.

"I don't want to talk about it." His gaze darted away to his fidgeting hands. "Not now, at least."

"There’s no rush."

Smiling gently at him, you discarded the dirty gauze with a clean one. After soaking it with some water from one of your many bottles, your hands went back to his face, gently wiping away the blood scattered on his sharp but charming features.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm here, if you need me,” you uttered softly. “To talk… or to distract you with my awful jokes."

Despite his gaze still lowered to the ground, the smallest genuine smile appeared on his face. You couldn't ignore the way your heart jumped in your throat like a frightened frog when his lips turned even so slightly upwards. You had been avoiding it long enough, that feeling that had slowly but inevitably grown since the first time you had met the tiefling wizard.

It was incessantly there, drumming from inside your chest like an innocent prisoner just wanting to be let out. And you didn’t have it in your heart to keep him inside any longer.

"Or…” you paused for a second, pushing through the sudden fear, heavy on your tongue, “whatever else.”

The words hung in the air between the two of you for a minute or so before Rolan reacted in any way to what you had just said. When he finally turned towards you, his eyes were as wide as those of a surprised doe, a wide-eyed look that lasted just a moment before it was replaced with a frowning confusion.

"Whatever else?"

You shrugged, meeting his questioning eyes not longer than the blink of an eye. Under his gaze, you felt a sudden heat blooming in your chest and slowly crawling towards your face. You tried to ignore it, focusing back on your task.

“Whatever else you may need,” you clarified in a rush of words. “Or want."

Nodding slowly, you could feel him following your every move as you put down the used gauze and reached for the bandages. "Such as?"

"How should I know?” you retorted, speaking quickly as a certain panic started setting in your chest. “Could be a book, a cup of tea…” – you paused, not one good idea crossing your embarrassed brain – “a warm blanket…"

Rolan narrowed his eyes, one eyebrow cocked up. "Do you think of me as some kind of grandad?"

"No, not at all!" you immediately blurted out, pulling your hands away from his face as a smug grin cut across his face, his sharp teeth poking through his lips. At that sight, the warmth beneath your cheek exploded, burning in your flesh and bones to an unbearable degree.

"I was just-”

You paused, not really sure where that sentence was headed. Lowering your head to the weight of your awkwardness, your hands fiddled with the wet piece of cloth, now stained with the tiefling’s blood.

Before you could think of something else to say – perhaps come up with a half-logical excuse for what you meant that wasn’t the actual truth – you felt a different kind of weight filling your hands. Rolan took the bandage out of them and wrapped his fingers around yours, letting them run gently across your palms, his claws tickling your skin just as much as his fingertips set it on fire.

"Could this,” he spoke softly as he intertwined his fingers with yours, an awkward and trembling smile pulling his lips, “be something you'd be inclined to offer?"

Opening your mouth to speak, not one sound left your lips. You were left speechless by his words and your heart, beating faster than a galloping horse, felt as though it was about to burst out of your chest and into his hands. That wouldn’t have changed much from how you had felt in the past weeks: he’d unknowingly had it in his grip all along, since that drunken, fateful night at the Light Inn.

 "Only if you want it, that is,” he whispered gently, but there was a sort of defeat in his tone as you felt the grasp of his hands loosen on yours and lightly pull away.

“I do!”

You blurted out those two words so quickly your tongue almost knotted on itself. You pulled his hands back towards you – perhaps with a little too much strength, your heads missing each other by mere luck – and you reveled in his touch.

“Sorry,” you murmured again apologetically. “But I really do. Want this.”

With your eyes locked in his – desperately waiting for a confirmation, you let your thumb press and circle the inner part of his wrist, brushing against his rushing artery. “Do you?”

Rolan didn’t answer immediately. He simply took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, leaving a row of kisses along your knuckles. You held your breath as he softly pressed them into your palm before placing it on his own cheek. A quiet sigh escaped his lips when your skin touched his, the tension disappearing like snow under a shining sun.

“Badly,” he breathed, his voice a low rumble that shook you to your core.

You chuckled lightly, almost unable to control your joy, your thumb gently caressing his skin. “I’m glad you’ve come to appreciate my company.”

The tiefling smirked, leaning into your touch and towards you like a moth drawn to the fire. “I hope I’ll get to appreciate it even more in the future.”

“Rolan, that’s so disgusting.”

You both quickly pulled away and turned to the doorway. Cal, appearing out of nowhere, stood there, leaning against the open door with a grossed out expression on his face. You couldn’t help but compare it to a child seeing his parents kiss for the first time.

“There’s a door for a reason, Cal! Knock on it!”

Despite his angry tone, you could clearly see the wizard’s embarrassment painting his already red skin of an even darker shade. It was quite adorable to witness him so vulnerable but you had to push back the smile growing on your lips.

The other tiefling rolled his eyes at Rolan’s outburst. “If you really wanted to keep people out, you should’ve locked it.”

If looks could kill, Cal would’ve dropped dead. Luckily for him, Rolan still wasn’t that powerful, but you could feel the anger exuding from Rolan, electric like a lightning about to strike.

“I better go.”

Your whisper only reached Rolan’s ears as you quickly picked up the few bottles and bandages scattered around the floor. After shoving them into your bag you should have been ready to go but something was missing. Before losing the little courage that his words gave you, you leaned towards Rolan and kissed him.

It was quick and messy – didn’t last longer than a few moments before it was over, but when you felt Rolan press back against you – his lips opening and closing around yours – you barely managed to keep yourself from melting into his touch, let alone pull yourself away from his warmth.

“I’ll see you soon then,” you whispered against his mouth, ignoring the disgusted noises that Cal was still making as he turned away from the scene.

The wizard scoffed, his anger long forgotten as a smug grin danced on his lips. “It’s a date.”

[whalyrae]

DANCE WITH ME - CHAPTER 7

“If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”

Summary : All your life, you thought you were a beta, a simple and boring beta. Until everything change. But now that you've presented yourself as an omega, how will you manage to live and hide it from your six friends and best friend, all alphas and all in the same pack? (a/n : I'm a shit for summary I'm so sorry-)

Genre : soulmate au (of course I'm a bitch for this), omegaverse, bangtan alphas au!, omega reader, fluff, angst, eventual smut, polyamory relationships

Status : In process

Word Count : 5k

Warnings : the usual one I guess, like smut, angst, fluff (yeah its a warning for some people ) mention of depression, abusive parents (physically and morally), violence and blood, PTSD, scars, self harm,…

Tag list : @ghostlyworld @kawaiikpoplover268 @scuzmunkie @iamkookiesforyou @00ihatesnaku @stellauniverse @akemiixx01 @aceofcards05 @strxwbloody @seoul9711 @amara-mars @alex-walker-86 @yoongicatcat @xicanacorpse @maciesmess 

A/N : It took me more time than I thought to write this sorry (again ;-;) dealing with mental health issues is shit really I wish I was strong and courageous like my characters LMAO. So as an apology, this chapter is a little longer than usual :D Hope you'll like it !

I'll never thank u enough for all the likes and shares despite the looong time I take to write and publish the next chapters ;w; that's my only motivation to keep writing the story tbh...! (I have severe impostor syndrome yes...... ^^) so thank you again !! Don't hesitate to let a comment here, or in my inbox !! ♥

Also I made a playlist for the story ! If you have any songs who made you think about the story, you can share it to me and I'll add it on the playlist ! ♥

Masterlist | ao3 | wattpad | Spotify playlist

Chapter 6 // Chapter 8

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

A/N² : again it's barely proof read, sorry for the potential mistakes TwT

. . .

The day has come. The practice exam was this afternoon. 

When you woke up this morning, you felt like you wanted to throw up. Being stressed was an euphemism. You didn’t even know why you felt like that. You spent the previous weeks practicing, alone and with Wooyoung. You even had some help and advice from his boyfriend, San. 

You never get why you were so stressed. Once the music started, all the anxiety and apprehension would disappear. It had always been that way when you danced. 

These last few months, your body was really testing you, and you weren't thanking it at all. 

You knew the steps perfectly, you and Wooyoung’s coordination and synchronization were perfect. You were more than ready, you knew it. And despite that, you were anxious, sure you’d fail everything, having bad notes, failing your scholarship after working so hard…

“Y/N ?”

The sudden voice startled you. In your kitchen, you were the last remaining in this apartment. Your roommates had already left, wanting to rehearse one last time before the exam. 

You would have done the same, but the stress and anxiety had given you such a stomach ache that it took you longer to get out of bed. 

You weren’t surprised to see Jimin not really anxious. You'd never seen him stressed when it came to dancing. And from the relaxed attitude Hoseok and Jungkook had shown since you'd met them, you suspected they were in the same category as Jimin. 

When you recognized the voice and noticed Jin facing you, you couldn't hide your surprise. 

“I thought you all left for work ?” you asked him, trying to stay calm. 

“Yoongi don’t need me at this hour,” Jin replied with a chuckle, “I'll be more of a nuisance than anything else. Is everything all right?”

You noticed the two cups of coffee held in his hands when he handed one to you. You silently thanked him and took a sip after blowing on the top of the cup to not burn yourself. It was delicious. Jin's coffees were the best. He'd never forgotten how you took it, ever since the first time he'd served you on the day you met. 

"I can smell your stress from the doorway, you know?" he said after a few seconds, seeing that you didn't answer because you simply didn't know what to say. 

You chuckled and pursed your lips, it was a nervous laugh. 

"Is it that obvious?"

"Trust me there's a picture of you next to the word anxious in the dictionary!"

Okay, the next laugh was more relaxed, more sincere. Jin had this sense of humor that some might find heavy and boring, but it was just the opposite for you. You were always the first to laugh at his jokes, sometimes even against your will. But what could you do? Jin was naturally amusing. He had a way of lightening the mood quickly and with just a few words. 

“Everything will be fine, you don’t have to worry about that.” He kept talking, as he took a step towards you, "You've worked hard, you've done your best, there's no reason for you to fail. Don't forget that you're good, you're really good."

Delicately, his hand came to rest on your shoulder, provoking a slight discharge that was anything but painful. 

How had you never noticed that what you felt for them, for him, wasn't friendship? That need you felt with every physical contact, your heart racing, your stomach twisting in such a pleasurable way. 

You felt both foolish for having been so blind and in denial all this time, but at the same time relieved to have finally been able to put a word to all these things, to finally have a clear vision of the situation. 

The only thing you couldn't control, and wouldn't control, would be the boys' reaction when you admitted to them that you were an omega. Because yes, now that the end of exams had arrived, and on top of that, you were going to be entitled to two weeks' rest, you were going to have to tell them (part of) the truth. You'd promised yourself you'd do it, you couldn't back out. Especially as your next heat could come at any moment. 

Perhaps that's also where the stress came from, that uncertainty, that lack of knowledge about the coming heat you were so worried about, about how you were going to manage it, about...

"Y/N... you're overthinking again."

You bite your lips nervously, shaking her head with a nervous smile. 

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry… I guess it’ll be better at the end of the day !”

Jin shook his head with a chuckle, and his face changed quickly from a most serious one, maybe the most serious face she had seen since she met him. 

“I’m sure it’s more than just… this exam, but you won’t talk to us, nor Jimin. You know we could never leave you, or judge you, no matter what it is ?”

So they all noticed you were acting differently, didn't they? Of course, they could. You weren’t the best to hide when something was wrong. And even if you were, Jimin could read you like an open book. And you did not doubt that he would have later confided to his partners. 

“I know, and it’s the same for me, I just… need to get done with this exam first.” you began, your voice trembling, “I know I haven't been... the most agreeable person lately, and I'm sorry for that, sincerely…”

You looked away, for some reason feeling your eyes sting, as if you wanted to cry. 

“Hey, hey, listen... look at me, please,” Jin's hands rested delicately on your cheeks. He waited patiently, and resumed once your eyes met, “You don't have to apologize, we all go through moments more tense, more difficult than others that make us more tense and nervous, no one here holds it against you, believe me.”

You nodded. He wiped the few tears from your eyes and leaned to place his lips on your forehead. And it's a good thing you had a certain amount of self-control, that you could restrain your actions, your desires, and your impulses, because the only craving you had right now when you felt Jin's soft lips against your forehead, was to raise your face and have your lips meet his. 

It was the hardest thing you'd ever had to do. 

“Ah, I have an idea !” he exclaimed as he stepped back, leaving you with a very unpleasant feeling of emptiness, “I'll drive you to your class, we'll go through the café, and Yoongi will give you croissants and coffee for you, Minnie, Kook' and Hobi!”

You blinked several times, not taking your eyes off him while he moved into your apartment to grab your bag.

“Wait!” You called out as you grabbed his arm, “I thought Yoongi didn’t want to be disturbed before the opening?” 

"Oh don't worry, we’ll be quick. Plus if it's you he won't say anything." Jin shrugged with a smirk as he handed her her bag, “You know, he doesn't show it, but he has a soft spot for you.”

You raised your eyes to the sky, trying to prevent your body from betraying you, but you couldn't. You could already feel your face and ears heating up. You knew Yoongi's temperament; he had his own way of showing affection to the people he loved. You also didn't doubt that he cared for you, but to use the word “soft spot”... 

“You're blushiiing...” Jin suddenly teased. 

“I'm not!” you exclaimed as you walked past him with your head down hiding any hints of blush if there were one, “Let's go! I don't want to be late!"

You didn't want Jin to be able to see what effect this was having on you, what effects they all were having on you. And that damn body that would only betray you... the coward! 

“Yes ma'am!” Jin couldn't hold back his giggle and stepped out with you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. The warmth of his embrace, his very singular scent didn't help your mood at all. “Aaah what are we going to do with you, little tsundere!”

“I'm not a... argh, you know what, never mind!” 

You didn't know why, but you had a feeling it was going to be a very long day. 

°°°

When you arrived at the dance hall less than an hour later, you quickly spotted Hoseok, Jungkook, and Jimin chatting with each other. Jungkook was the first to spot you and waved to you with his eternal big smile that melted you every time. 

You looked around for San and Wooyoung, remembering the day before that Wooyoung told you that some of the second and senior-year students would be there to watch the first years, which added a layer of stress because some of them, being alphas, were the ones who had almost harassed you to be an omega at the beginning of the year. 

But as you and Wooyoung had said to each other in the café when you first met: "We'll take the opportunity to nail all those pretentious alphas who like to spend their lives looking down on us!" 

And that was your main motivation right now. 

"Noona! We're here!" he exclaimed, drawing the attention of several students to you, which you decided to ignore because all their attention would be on you in about a dozen minutes anyway. 

"Oh great pastries!" exclaimed Jimin, taking the box from your hands as you handed it to him, "They're from Yoongi hyung!"

"Thank god, I love him so much, I'm starving..." muttered Jungkook who didn't wait to open the box and take out a cupcake which he bit into instantly. 

“Oh, you have Jin's scent on you...” Hoseok didn’t seem to be interested in pastries and approached you. You almost had the impression he was humming you quickly. "Hey, you're wearing his hoodie!”

You and Jin had gone to the café where Yoongi was already, and as Jin had told you earlier, Yoongi's face, initially shut and ready to scold Jin by reminding him that he didn't like to be disturbed in the morning, had immediately softened on seeing you appear beside him. Jin noticed this immediately and didn't stop himself from pointing out that he'd been right by giving you a little nudge on the shoulder and a chuckle, making you grumble as you did your best not to blush again. 

Yoongi of course understood why Jin had brought you along, because like everyone else, he knew that this day was important for Jungkook, Jimin, Hoseok, and you. 

He didn't ask any questions, he didn't even say a word. He just walked away and packed some pastries he knew you or the boys would enjoy, and you even noticed that he'd slipped a Strawberry Shortcake into the box, your favorite.  

When he walked to you and handed you the box, you could have sworn he brushed his fingers against yours on purpose, sending a long shiver down your spine. But he didn't notice, or so you hoped because even if he did, you didn't see any reaction from him. 

Once back in Jin's car, you noticed that you'd forgotten your jacket at the apartment, and unfortunately, you didn't have time to go home again. Jin hadn't hesitated to give you his hoodie, a café-au-lait-colored hoodie that was far too oversized for you, and you were floating in it, which made him laugh.  

The reason you couldn't say no was his smell. Like all of them, Jin had a very particular scent, very sweet but very strong, which invaded your whole being the moment the hoodie's fabric settled on your body. That same warmth returned to your stomach and probably also to your face, but Jin couldn't see it since you'd pulled the hood over your head. 

How could a simple piece of clothing make you feel so safe? 

“Noona? Noona!” Jungkook’s voice startled you, “Is everything fine? Don’t tell me you’re stressed!”

You blinked a few times and noticed your four friends staring at you, Jimin looking a little more worried than the others. Perhaps because he knew you best. 

“Ah yes, yes I’m fine!” you assured with a small smile, "Of course I'm stressed, not to be would be a sign of recklessness!"

"Well, I'm not really..."

"That's exactly what I'm saying!" you exclaimed, cutting off Hoseok who just couldn't help but laugh, "Ah and yes it's Jin's hoodie, I forgot my jacket at the apartment..."

"You could have asked me, I would have given you mine," Jimin muttered before receiving a small elbow from Hoseok. You looked at him, confused, and rubbed the back of your head with a shy smile. 

"You can give it to me if you want. No, wait... that's not what I meant..." you frowned, more to yourself, and tried to hide the heat wave by imagining yourself having not only Jin's scent but also Jimin's on you. 

"Oh no? What did you mean then?" Jungkook leaned towards her with a small smirk, "If you want I can pass you mine too, and I'm sure Hobi will do the same!" 

You frowned as you realized that Jungkook was starting to tease you, suspicions confirmed when Hobi also tapped him on the shoulder. But the mere idea of being surrounded by all the smells of your roommates and friends was enough to send a wave of warmth through your lower belly and your whole being. 

You had to change the subject, avoid the conversation going any further, or maybe find Wooyoung... 

Just when you needed it most, Wooyoung came up behind you and almost jumped on your back, snatching a laugh in the process. 

"Yo, did you miss me?" said Wooyoung in a cheerful tone who had his arm wrapped around your shoulder, he turned to your three friends and greeted them, a thin smile on his lips as he saw Jimin's reaction. It had reached the point where Wooyoung liked to make fun of Jimin's reactions, as he was the one who was the most protective of you, and according to Wooyoung, even jealous and possessive. But you still refused to believe it, being 100% certain that Jimin felt nothing but deep friendship. 

"You can't even imagine," you said ironically, rolling your eyes before grabbing Wooyoung's wrist and pulling you away from your three friends, "there's one last thing we need to discuss, good luck for later!"

"If you think we need luck..." chuckled Jungkook, making you roll your eyes at him again.  

You quickly walked away with Wooyoung, isolating yourselves in a corner of the dance hall, before letting out a long sigh.

"Wow, you don't look good, tense? Don't worry, we'll handle it!"

"Partly, but not only, there's something really weird going on..." 

You quickly told Wooyoung what had happened with Jin, then your reaction to your previous conversation with Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok. 

He remained silent for a few seconds after your explanation, before simply shrugging his shoulders. 

"It's a common thing with omegas, it's called a nest. Well, it's not a nest, but your behavior bears a strong resemblance to one." 

Seeing your confusion, Wooyoung gave a little laugh, not a mocking laugh, but an affectionate one, because indeed, you had a lot to learn. 

He then explained to you that a nest is usually a place where an omega can be comfortable and relaxed, whether they are in heat or just having a bad day. It mostly is the omega’s couch, filled with soft things, the most smelling like their mates if they have one. When they are mated, omegas can share their nest with their partner. 

"But that's the basic definition, made by idiots who like to put us in cases. It's happened very often with us that one of our alphas made a nest himself, because as long as it comforts them, why does it have to be only for omegas?" 

You nodded and smiled. Well, of course, Wooyoung was right, and when you learned this, you wondered why you'd never heard of what a nest was before today. Having grown up in an all-alpha family, a very closed-minded family at that, you weren't surprised that they didn't practice this sort of thing. Thinking back to your mother and sister, you realize that they could both use a little bit of it. As well as a good therapy.

"So that means it's not a sign that I'm going into heat?" you asked, a long sigh of relief leaving your lips as Wooyoung nodded. "Good, I wish I could tell them before it happens, I wouldn't like to... force it on them you know." 

"I understand, don't worry. Are you planning to tell them today?" 

You'd had a long talk with him the day before, about your decision to tell Jimin and your friends that you were an omega, to tell them the whole story. 

"Don't forget that if anything goes wrong, our door is wide open to you! Hongjoong hyung will welcome you with open arms, even though I'm sure everything will go perfectly!"

Wooyoung's optimism could be contagious at times. But he was right, you shouldn't think about the negative, you knew your friends after all, and you knew Jimin better than anyone else in this world. They wouldn't reject you for that. 

You hadn't had time to reply, the teachers, and a few senior students, including San, entered the room. The first-year students fell silent, knowing that the serious part was just about to begin. 

°°°

"Wait, you're first?!"

Jungkook exclaimed, looking at the grade board a few hours later. He turned to Wooyoung and you, as did several students who whispered words you didn't even understand. 

Slowly, you walked over to the board and looked at the sheet of paper on which the grades were written.

Jungkook Jimin and Hoseok were second. It had to be said that their performance was incredible. They had successfully mixed their solo and trio performances, creating a highly original tableau while respecting the given instructions. 

But apparently, the teachers preferred you and Wooyoung's performance. Even if there were only five small points that set you apart from your friends. 

A week before the exam, you and Wooyoung came up with the idea of teaching each other's solo choreography to the other. The solo instruction was that the creation had to be original and from the student himself, and there was no indication that the duo dance partner couldn't participate. Several of you had this idea in your class.

It seems this technique had paid off because you were now top of the class. 

"I don't believe it... Y/n pinch me please," asked Wooyoung in a whisper, before letting out a little scream as you obeyed. "Hey, that hurts!"

"You asked me to pinch you!" you exclaimed, turning to face him. 

"But it wasn't serious! Ah, we're first noona, we made it!" Wooyoung's face lit up and he took you in his arms, making you burst into a frank laugh, but also a way of letting out all the stress accumulated over the last few weeks. 

You hugged Wooyoung for a few seconds, unable to hide your joy and relief at having achieved such a formidable accomplishment, knowing the talented dancers in your group. Of course, you couldn't help but feel a hint of satisfaction at being able to rise above Jimin and your friends. 

You, who'd always had that imposter syndrome when dancing alongside talented dancers like Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, seeing your name inscribed in front of theirs made you realize that you belonged here, that you deserved it, like them, like Wooyoung.

San called Wooyoung, who jumped into his arms and couldn't help but share his joy with his boyfriend. San hugged him back, praising him. He stretched out his hand to you, and you gave him a high five as he winked at you.

"Noona!"

You turned to Jimin, who was walking towards you with a smile like you'd never seen before. Behind him, Jungkook and Hoseok seemed to be just as happy for you, and that only made your heart beat faster. 

You'd always known that between you and Jimin, there'd never been any competition, but you'd had this little thought that maybe Jungkook and Hoseok wouldn't be like him, and you were so relieved to find out that you were wrong. 

“It’s amazing, you are amazing!”

Jimin couldn't resist taking you in his arms, hugging you tightly. This time, you couldn't refuse this hug, you needed it. The stress of the last few weeks was fading away, and you missed your best friend's touch more than ever. 

Anyway, you'd tell them tonight that you were an omega, you didn't want to hide anymore.

°°°

Or maybe, you could wait a little more? 

Because now that you were probably a few minutes before telling (one of) the deepest secrets you ever had, you didn’t know if it was a good idea. 

They were all here, you were all in Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi’s apartment. They had decided to order a multitude of dishes and side dishes, which you shared on the coffee table. At the center of the table was a large bouquet made by Taehyung himself, who couldn't help himself when he heard how well Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok and you'd done. 

“Y/N please, don't forget us when you'll be one of Beyoncé's main dancers, okay? I'd love to have an autograph!”

You nearly choked on your soda at Jin's remark, causing general hilarity. 

“I don't want to dance for Beyoncé!” you couldn't help but laugh despite it, and you got up to grab a towel from the kitchen to wipe yourself off, “ah I swear Jin... you do have an imagination...”

You rolled your eyes as you heard them still laughing and joking about it. From the kitchen, you had a perfect view of the living room and your friends. They were eating, laughing, and teasing each other. There was no negativity in the room. You didn't want to risk ruining it now. But at the same time, you told yourself that if you didn't do it now, you'd never have the courage to do it again. You'd then have your heat without the ability to hide it, things could then degenerate one way or another, and you could lose them forever. 

The thought only was enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

“Hey Y/N, everything okay?”

Yoongi's voice startled you, and you realized that he had joined you in the kitchen. The others didn't seem to have noticed your sudden tension, too busy with their conversations, unlike him. 

You didn't answer, just stared at him blankly at first, and could read the worry in his eyes, but also that little spark of gentleness that was so peculiar to him, a look that could give courage to anyone for whom it was intended. That look meant “You can do it, everything will be all right.” 

It was the same feeling you had when you spoke to Jin earlier this morning, except that Jin passed it on with his words. 

Your heart beat too fast, your mouth went dry. You had to do it. 

Without breaking eye contact, you finally opened your lips, and the words came out slowly, in an insecure, trembling voice. 

“I'm an omega.” 

The others didn't seem to hear you. Yoongi remained silent for a few seconds, without saying a word. Seconds that seemed to last an eternity. Seconds when you had time to imagine the worst possible scenarios, and he seemed to have guessed it.

It was only when he gently took your hand in his that you noticed it was shaking. 

“I know.” he murmured in a soft, reassuring voice, seeing your eyes widened with surprise and confusion, he shook his head with a small laugh, ” Later.”

You opened your mouth to reply but soon saw Jimin's face in your sight. 

“Noona! What's the matter? Are you alright? Did you burn yourself? you-”

“Jimin, let her talk, will you?”

This time it was Namjoon who had spoken, his voice sounding just as reassuring as Yoongi's. Everyone had fallen silent and was staring at you. You looked at each of them, ending with Jimin, whose gaze was filled with unspeakable concern.

You felt a slight pressure on your hand from Yoongi, who wanted to give you the courage to go for it. 

So, like with him, you did your best to gather your thoughts, to coordinate your voice and the words that should come from your lips.

“I... I am an Omega...”

Unfortunately, your voice was shakier than the first time. You couldn't help feeling even more ridiculous as you felt your eyes sting with tears.

“I am sorry... truly sorry I... I didn't mean to hide it...” you managed to articulate, ”I thought I was a beta until... recently and... I panicked.” you take a deep breath as you squeeze Yoongi's hand a little tighter, ”I'll understand if you're angry with me, if you don't want to be friends anymore or...”

“Don't be ridiculous!” 

You recognized Jimin's voice and embrace, which came suddenly, but which you accepted with barely hidden relief. His voice was shaking.

“You're my best friend, the most important person in my life as if that could change over something as trivial as that!”

You couldn't hold back a tear that ran down your cheek. Tear that couldn't finish its way when Yoongi ran his finger over your cheek to wipe it away. 

“It doesn't matter if you're an omega, an alpha, or a beta. You're our Y/N, we love you just the way you are!” exclaimed Jungkook, who sounded just as relieved as Taehyung and Jin. 

Namjoon nodded with a small smile and approached you. You had trouble seeing him, as Jimin had decided to cling to you. 

“It happens frequently actually. You think you are an alpha, and it turns out you're a beta, or an omega, or the other way around.” He explained, placing his hand on your hair as you acquiesced, which he began to stroke in a way that was intended to be gentle and reassuring. 

“You all don’t seem that surprised…” you said as you remembered words a few minutes ago, and when you heard Jungkook cough, you turned to him, confused. 

“I… I heard you a few weeks ago, you were on the phone with Wooyoung… Yoongi hyung heard me and we told the others…”

Ok, this one you didn't see it coming. But in the end, it doesn’t matter anymore. 

“Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell me?” Jimin finally asked, looking at you curiously, and somewhat a little hurt by your silence, which you thought was totally valid. 

“Minnie, can you let go of her ?” Hoseok asked with a little laugh. 

“No, I have months of hugs to catch up !” he exclaimed, his grip on you tightening a little, making the others sigh. But you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. You didn’t mind it at all. You need it more than anything right now.

Oh how you missed his embrace, his warmth, his scent all over you. It felt so good, so right to be in his arms. It felt like where you should be. 

It felt like home.

“I didn't tell you because... when I saw the disgust... the disappointment in my mother's eyes...” You shook your head, swallowing back your tears, “That's why she asked me not to come anymore. I couldn't have supported... I couldn't have supported losing you too...” You looked at Jimin who held you closer to him, "to lose you all..."

Admitting these words out loud was harder than you thought. You weren't the kind of person to talk openly about your feelings, fears, and anxieties. 

“I don't want things to change, I don’t want you to treat me differently...”

You bit your lower lip. Your heart was beating a hundred miles. 

“I hope I never have to meet your parents,” Hoseok said in a cold voice you'd never heard from him, and strangely you found it oddly seductive.

“What a bunch of assholes,” Taehyung said disdainfully.

“I'm not even going to correct you this time. What a bunch of jerks.” Jin shook his head, frowning.

“Look, who cares? You're an omega, so what? Is this about your heat? We'll find a way to deal with it, just like we do with our ruts. We don't care, that's not the most important.” Namjoon smiles affectionately at you, “The main thing is that you feel comfortable with us, that we're all comfortable with each other, that's how a pack works after all, isn't it?”

This time, you hid your face against Jimin's shoulder, unable to hold back your tears any longer. 

“Wait... did I say something wrong?” Namjoon asked somewhat panicked, making the others laugh, even you, between sobs. 

“Don't worry, some stress to relieve.” Yoongi grabbed Namjoon's hand, kissing his cheek at the same time, before moving back to the sofa. “She’s fine now, everything will be fine from now on.”

“Ah Noona, I was so scared!” Taehyung exclaimed as he came around to hug you from behind, his torso pressing against your back. 

All these weeks, all this stress, this tension, this constant fear of living through this fateful moment had just come to an end tonight. 

Wooyoung had been right, once again. Things couldn't have gone better. 

Perhaps there was still the feelings thing, but for the moment, you didn't want to think about it. You just wanted to enjoy this moment, this acceptance you'd never had before today. You just wanted to enjoy Jimin's warmth, which you'd missed so much, and Taehyung's, and even Jungkook, who'd added to the hug somehow. 

As Jimin said, he didn't let go of you all evening, snuggling up to you like a Koala to its branch. You don't remember how the evening ended, except that you found yourself lying in a bed between Hoseok and Jimin. 

And for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, you slept a nightmare-free sleep, your heart and soul as light as they'd ever been. 

[solarnomoon]

care for a man - kim mingyu

mingyu always takes care of you, even when you don't take care of yourself.

pairing >>> mingyu x male reader

tags >>> college au, fluff, suggestive content, implied smaller reader (he's 6'2 T-T)

author's note >>> sorry for literally dying, hope this is acceptable as an apology o.o i was listening to love me again by v while writing this if you want the vibe lul

"gyu, please..." you try to push his head away from your neck, attempting to type on your computer for your assignment, but with with you agreeing to sit on his lap while you work, nothing was getting done. "gyuuu..." you start again, pulling your neck away but just resulting in a soft whine and a tighter grip on your waist, and then left you a mingyu that was more insistent on leaving hickeys on your neck, even though he had already left dozens in the past hour.

when you finally get a moment of rest, he just stares at you waiting for you to make eye contact with him. eventually, you wonder if he was scrolling through his phone considering that he stopped, so you turned to check, but was met with a face still looking at yours. "yes gyu?"

"do you not love me?" he pouts, his lips turning downward while awaiting your answer.

"huh? are you fucking dumb? what kind of question is that?" you turn back towards your computer to type a couple of sentences.

at the same time, mingyu leans away from you in disbelief, staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth. "wow, the f-bomb? so you hate me." he stands up, picking you up as well, ignoring your muffled complaint. "so you're breaking up with me," he says, placing you on the bed. "so you literally just said you want nothing to do with me." he lies next to you, holding you by your waist.

all you do is giggle, knowing this is just his antics. "hey, gyu, i was working! and i never said that, you're putting words in my mouth. you know i'd never break up with you," you whine out of faux annoyance, but he knows you need a break anyway. you push him on his back as you climb on top of him, squishing his cheeks together, and getting a smile from his face.

he places his hands on your hips, his fingers drawing small shapes into them. he loves the way the computer light shines on your face in the dark room, allowing him to see the beauty of his boyfriend. "well, if you wanna show me how much you would never break up with me, why don't you let me put something else, something bigger in your mouth?"

you scoff, glancing briefly at your open computer before returning your gaze to your boyfriend. "you disgust me, kim mingyu.”

he leans closer to your lips, wanting a kiss, "but you love me, y/n." he closes his eyes, expecting you to meet in the middle, but seconds pass and his gorgeous boyfriend's lips never touched his own. "where's my kiss, y/n?" he pouts, opening his eyes at the same time, noticing that you're looking at your computer, and with you as his little brainiac, he knows the gears in that head of yours are turning rapidly for your work. "y/n, you've been sitting on my lap for two hours just working. don't you think it's time for a break?"

"mmm, mingyu, i was almost done though..." you whine, attempting to get up after thinking about the next sentence of your editorial. however, as you begin to move away from mingyu, he pulls you back in, hugging you tight on top of him.

"nooo baby... you can't work anymore... i need attention!"

you laugh, leaving a kiss on his nose, "you know, i see why everyone on campus calls you a puppy." he just smiles, turning his head at the same time, obviously wanting you to continue on. "you're adorable like one, you love hugging and stuff, you need attention like all the time," you pause a bit, a dumb smirk appearing on your face before finishing your sentence, "and most of all, you're fucking insatiable. i mean, c'mon, four rounds minimum?"

he covers his face up after hearing your words, remembering how he said that in the very beginning of your relationship. when you confessed a year ago, mingyu told you that he needed "at least four rounds every time" as a deterrent because he didn't think he deserved to be with you. of course, you wanted to be with him, therefore you didn't mind (plus you're just as insatiable as him), so it's a funny memory to you now. "i-it was a joke, y/n! don't remind me."

you roll your eyes, tapping his forehead with your finger, "a joke that seems to be true. you know, it seems to be five rounds now." he hits your shoulder playfully at your words. "kidding, kidding! kinda." you sigh, just staring at your boyfriend. "but you really are like a puppy. a six foot something puppy."

"six foot two, baby. not that it matters, you're fucking tiny anyway."

"i'm not even that small, you're suuch a bitch." you place a gentle kiss onto his lips, granting a smile from him in return. "how about this, i stop working for the night, and we go into the kitchen and i make us a late-night snack? sound good, gyu?"

his eyes sparkle at the sound of you not working, his nonexistent tail practically hitting the walls and the ceiling with how excited he was hearing those words. "yes, please, y/n! i was getting so hungry and you weren't giving me any kisses and i was getting so sad."

"like i said, a puppy." you kiss him again on the cheek, answering his woeful call, "i'll give you all the kisses you want, okay gyu?"

he nods, getting up and carrying you bridal style. he places a kiss on your forehead. "i love you, y/n. i'm going to marry you one day."

and though you said you'd make food for him, he forced you to just sit down and watch him do everything for you, with the reasoning of "my beautiful boyfriend shouldn't move a finger after working so hard," and you swear you could feel the ring around your finger right then and there.

[n3ptoonz]

Could you please write the reader waking up from a wet dream with Smoke? reader mumbles his name during it so it isn't that hard to tell what's happening and helps when you wake up after maybe... 😵‍💫 established relationship. I LOVE your stuff so much by the way every time you post it's Christmas for me.

christmas 😭😭😭 i love that analogy TYSM anon❤️💚

now...this is what i'm talkin about 😈😈 let's get it DONEE

'Love On The Brain'

Pairing: Royal Guard!Smoke/Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: Smut, Explicit, service top!smoke, switch! smoke, gn reader, reader is a switch, wet dream, established/secret relationship, creampie, m!nipple play, cowgirl, prone, missionary, handjob, sphinx likes when men beg, dacryphilia, reader is like the heir in a primarily female tribe (very outworld-esque)(idk i just wanted to sound cool), barely proofread apologies for typos

Word count: 1.9k

To be the heir in a tribe that was ran by mostly powerful women, it was naturally a blessing to be in your position. Because here, gender didn't matter. First born = next in line for leading. Period.

However, your mother was no stranger to keeping men in their place. Most of the guards that did nothing but protect and serve were in fact men, especially ones that were chosen from clans with high status.

Your quarters, like your other siblings, were a bit far from the main part of the land, but that meant you had your own guard all to yourself--like everyone else. One man that was capable of just about anything, if not everything.

His name was foreign; that of a whole different region outside of your knowledge. What was it again? Ah, it was-

-

"Tomas-!" you choked out a whine as your eyes shut tightly. Tomas held one of your hands while the other was gripping your other hip, watching the stomach bulge appear with stars in his eyes as he had no shame going at a relentless pace.

This was the third time you came in one round. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it right. Who knows how long you've been going at it by now? Honestly, who cares. To basically have the shape of him molded inside you, time was the least of your concerns.

You were signaling that you were about to cum again by the slight grip you had on his hand while the other flew over your mouth. He suddenly stopped his movements and leaned forward to kiss the back of that same hand.

"I want to hear you. Can you do that for me?" he whispered. He said your name over and over in a sweet, gentle manner, as if he was trying to get your attention. What was once a hazy and muffled voice was becoming clearer every time he said your name. And as you opened your eyes-

-

You shot up in your bed and panted, shielding your eyes from the sun rays that assaulted your vision. Your breath stilled you turned to look to your side; Tomas was standing at the foot of your bed in position but a concerned look on his face--he was typically bad at hiding his emotions, it's an ongoing joke between you two.

"I heard you calling my name, are you alright?" he asked, a faint tint of blush betraying him. You were about to get up off the bed when you felt a sort of...sticky substance in your underwear. You froze in your spot before sheepishly looking up at him.

"I am, thank you...Could you, um..." you trailed off.

With these three words he has heard before, he's assuming you're about to ask him to leave so you can have your privacy. Being in a secret relationship with your own guard wasn't exactly all fun and games, he still took his job very seriously, but boy did he enjoy the thrill alone.

He had already made a move to leave the room when you hopped out of bed, remembering that feeling between your thighs as soon as you took a step. If there wasn't a bloom of even more concern on his face before, it's there now. He takes one look at how you were standing, and one look at your bed. Upon seeing a bit of a stain where you were just laying, he was no fool. He knew it exactly what that meant. From you repeatedly whispering his name in your sleep, to the slight jolts every few seconds...

"Did you...uh-"

"Tomas," you said as now stood in front of him with no intention to break eye contact. You looped your index finger around a piece of his armored chest plate and pulled him in for a short, but meaningful kiss. Eventually going back in for even shorter seconds and thirds. You felt like a starved bear woken up from hibernation, and you needed your fill.

"You are going to fuck me. And you will do it how I tell you to. Is that understood?" you whispered. The color red almost completely took over his entire face upon seeing this newly discovered hunger in your eyes, but he was more than happy to oblige by your commands. He did serve you, after all. Why not put it to good use?

The only sounds that could be heard was the bed shaking, skin slapping together, and your cries muffled by your pillow. The swiftness in which Tomas put you in the prone position and pinned you down with his body, he didn't even really need to use his hands for anything besides holding himself up.

"Look at you loosening up for me. Is this how the heir behaves?" he taunted. You gave him free rein to speak how ever he pleased. Your nails drug against the sheets and you panted as the room grew hotter and your skin felt prickly from the cold sweat.

The pure bliss of his long, thick dick dragging in and out of you and the contrast to what was once cold metal armor to his sweaty, warm muscular chest atop your back made you see stars. This was a thousand times better than your dream, honestly.

"Nothing to say?" he asked, slowly yet agonizingly pushing himself into you and bringing his movements to a halt. He was holding your hips down at the same time until a good amount of his weight engulfed you. The angle he was laying at had him brushing right against your g spot, but not enough to get you to cum in an instant.

"Tomas--!" you cried out, squirming and groaning underneath him. You couldn't see it, but Tomas himself had to pause before responding because he was getting overwhelmed. You felt so good around him, he almost moaned your name back.

"You feel...so fucking good wrapped around me..." he whispered. He didn't expect himself to say it out loud, but the cat's out the bag! He slowly shakily pulled out and flipped you onto your back, the sight of your slick mixed with his pre-cum leaking out of you made him dizzy.

Your face was flushed, eyes glossy, and chest heaving; he looked the same. Without second thought you pulled him close for a deep and passionate kiss, reaching your other hand between your legs to grab and pump him. He nearly got choked up mid-kiss. You smiled and chuckled against him as you could feel his hands grabbing for the sheets next to your head. His body was trembling with love and lust.

You continued to stroke him and made sure it was known he wasn't allowed to be inside you again...yet. And this? This...newfound dynamic of power, he loves it. He instinctively started thrusting his hips into your palm and wishing it was you.

He broke the kiss and started nipping at your neck, his shallow breaths and breathy whimpers all too familiar right in your ear. He knew it wouldn't be possible to mark you up the way he wants to, but that didn't really matter. Only he gets to be this close to you and he relished in that alone.

His breaths picking up meant he was close, but you weren't having that. Him coming before you? Especially if you haven't yet? Madness. Though, you knew he wasn't about that either.

You quickly angled him in front of your hole and pulled away right as he thrusted forward. The both of you groaned in pleasure at the sudden contract on both ends and a cold shiver washed over your bodies.

He couldn't help but cum instantly, but he was no punk. He just kept going at the same time you were being filled to the brim. The room couldn't be louder with his determined grunting and the sound of squelching coming from between your legs.

You came shortly after and dragged your nails down his biceps since he had you caged in. He had your back arched, seeing stars, and out of breath.

There must've been something about this morning air because neither of you felt like this was over. Or maybe you didn't want it to be...

You smiled as he rested his forehead against yours, giving him a quick kiss on the nose before pushing him off of you and crawling on top of him. You watched his gray eyes practically twinkle at the sight of you--spent but willing. But also the rays from the sun shining through your window.

One of your hands carefully wrapped around his neck while the other simply put his length back inside. Being on top of him now, you could feel his quick breaths and the slight bucking of his hips.

"No touching while I ride you. Understand?" you said, tone just above a whisper when you leaned in closer to him. He gulped and shyly nodded. He was determined to try his best not to, because he knew you'd be even more willing to punish him for it.

There was no more starting slow. You both wanted and needed to chase this high as fast as possible especially under these circumstances. You took turns having control, and you were going to make the most of it. You were already pumped full of his seed so who needs slow and sensual now?

Your body was kicked into overdrive as you took all of him again. You tried to keep a not so expressive attitude, but damn that was growing harder by the second. No pun intended.

Since there was a free hand that wasn't on his neck, you decided to try something new. You gently rubbed his nipple to see if he'd have a reaction. And boy DID he have a reaction.

"Fuck-" he cursed multiple times. His face contorting and hips bucking harder was all you needed to see. "Ah, don't stop, please." he whispered.

He had to keep balling his hands into fists so he wouldn't just grab your hips and fuck you til you cried again. "By the gods, I'm so close. Don't stop-" his own words interrupted by a combination of a gasp and a moan. You've never seen this side of him before. Even if you did have sex the amount of times that could be counted on one hand, you didn't expect he'd act like this. Of course, he's a sensitive and sentimental guy at heart even if he doesn't show it much outside of being alone with you.

Good thing you were also about to blow too. Would you believe me if I told you he was about to cry? Well, you should. Because he's doing so right now.

"Can I- Agh- Can I please touch you? I can't go on like this-" he begged. You denied him just to watch him cry some more. And as the tears poured from his eyes, you both came together. He wasn't sad or upset. Quite the opposite actually. Little did you know it was so fucking hot to him that you wouldn't give him what he wants right after he just had you pinned to the mattress and filled with his cum.

After you calmed yourselves down, cleaned up, and changed the sheets, you convinced him to take a bath with you and cuddled close to him. You didn't want him to go back to his post yet. It had been some time since either of you had gotten the time to yourselves to do something like this, clearly. You innocently sat in his lap while you two cleaned each other off--including the dried tears under his eyes.

And then you woke up.

Kidding! After your nice, hot bath, you pulled him close as you plopped down onto the fresh sheets just to hold him for longer...Thank the gods today was your off day.

a/n: HI...! XDXDXD COLLEGE WAS WHOOPING MY ASS, my bad y'all! i hope yall fw this bc deadass this person asked for this in fuckin january, i feel like a shitty author rn😭😭but we got it done 🙏🏾 idk when imma be able to focus on tumblr fics again, but hopefully it won't take as long like this did!

[dsireland86]

Hi! Could I request something with Matt? Where the reader and Matt always dance the line between friends and something more and it irritates the others that they keep denying it?

Thanks!

Another Matt One-Shot! Thank you 😊

Denial

Tags: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @fadingintothegrey

The box fell over, dumping most of its contents onto the floor. Y/N growled, frustrated with how the day was already going, and it wasn't even noon yet. She was starting to rethink her decision in helping Matt declutter the warehouse, thinking it would have been best if she'd just stayed in bed and shut the world out.

"Hey, let me help," came a soft voice. Matt bent down and helped Y/N toss the cables and extra pieces back into the box. 

"You alright? You seem a little stressed this morning." 

"Yeah," Y/N sighed. "Well, no. The water in my apartment building got turned off last night because of a busted pipe, leaving me with no shower, no coffee, and little tolerance."

"Shit, I'm sorry! Why didn't you say anything?"

Y/N shrugged. "Didn't want to complain, I guess. There's nothing you can do about it, unless you know how to fix a busted water pipe."

Matt grinned, draping an arm over her shoulder. He pulled her close, running his hand up and down the side of her shoulder. The sweet, affectionate gesture made Y/N's body shiver, stirring the pot of swirling emotions for Matt inside her.

"No, I can't, but I can offer you a hot shower and a hot cup of coffee over at my place once we're done here, if that'll help."

Y/N blushed, lowering her head to escape embarrassment.

"Sorry, was that too much?"

"No, no, no, it's fine!" she assured him with a smile. "I really appreciate the offer."

Her fingers found Matt's fingers that were around her shoulder, briefly lacing them together. The way her touch made Matt feel was insatiable, causing him to shift from the increased pressure against his shorts.

"Yeah?" Matt's stomach flipped inside him, and his heart was pounding.

"Yeah," she smiled again.

Y/N picked up the box and carried it over to Matt's work table, sitting it down. She glanced Matt's way once more, grinning like a schoolgirl, before turning and walking away with the brightest smile on her face.

"Man, you've got to tell her, Matt. It's obvious she's into you," Noah stated, coming up behind him. He clamped his hand down on Matt's shoulder.

"Tell her what?"

Noah gawked at Matt. "Really?"

Matt shrugged.

"You like her. You know you do. She likes you. Why are you both denying it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Noah. I don't like her like that. Y/N and I are just friends. She's been talking to some other guy anyway, so yeah."

"So," Noah shrugged. "Doesn't mean anything."

Matt's face fell.

"Whatever. I'm not discussing my personal life with you right now. I've got too much on my mind.

"Dude, she likes you. You like her. Just admit it."

Matt sighed loudly.

"Whatever. Go," shooing Noah away.

Matt did like Y/N, a lot, but he was scared as hell to admit it. She didn't feel the same about him. There was no way. He was her boss and had been for almost a year, never picking up on any of the same vibes that he felt towards her. He was just trying to be nice, regardless of how crazy she made him feel.

Throughout the day, Y/N and Matt continued their weird awkwardness around each other. Whether it was apologizing to the other if they had accidently knocked into each other or hands brushing against hands as they reached for the same thing, Matt and Y/N were fighting the truth like a bull, choosing to stay in complete denial about their feelings for one another

"If they don't kiss or do something, soon, I'm gonna lose it," Jolly commented to Noah and Nick. "Have you seen the two of them today? What hell is up with that?"

The three looked over at Matt and Y/N, who were working through a box of computer parts together. Her giggles and his smiles were giving all of them tooth aches.

"God. Matt is being ridiculous," Nick chuckled.

Noah sighed, plopping down on the couch and stretching his long arms over the back. "Just wait. Something's going to happen. Knowing Matt, he won't be able to handle it much longer."

"Why do you say that?"

Noah raised an eyebrow, twisting the ring on his right hand.

"Matt's an impatient person. When he wants something, he'll just take it."

Jolly hummed. "So, what you're saying is that by tomorrow, Matt and Y/N will have slept together?"

Noah grinned, cocking an eyebrow.

"No way." Jolly disagreed.

"You wanna make a bet?"

Jolly narrowed his eyes, staring at Noah.

"Fifty dollars says she doesn't."

Noah stuck his hand out. "Deal."

"Hey, Y/N, you want this last Celsius in here," Folio asked, buried in the refrigerator.

"Mmm, I think that's Matt's. Doesn't he get really mad when people take his drinks, especially if it's the last one?"

Folio peered at her from around the side of the fridge. "Well, yeah, but it's you. He won't care."

"Who won't care about what?" Matt asked, casually forcing his way into the conversation.

"You won't care if Y/N takes your last can of Celsius."

"Oh, no, go ahead. Maybe it'll make up for that missing cup of coffee this morning." Matt winked at Y/N, making her smile.

"See," Folio noted. Y/N chuckled.

Matt stopped next to her and just stared at her for a moment.

"You okay?" she asked, skeptically.

He nodded as a small smile spread over his lips. Y/N grinned, looking down again.

"God, the two of you are ridiculous," Folio groaned, closing the fridge and handing Y/N the energy drink.

"Just fucking sleep together, already and put us all out of misery."

"Folio, what the fuck, dude!"

"What! It's obvious you two like each other."

"Oh, no," Y/N denied, shaking her head. Matt looked at her as if her words stung.

"Well," she shrugged nervously, "you're my boss. That's all."

Matt shoved his hands in his pockets, looking away.

"See, I'm her boss. Sleeping together would be out of the question," he stated, glancing over at Y/N, who opened the can of Celsius and took a long sip.

"These are the last two freaking boxes," Y/N sighed, dropping the ones in her arms with a thud. Matt gave her a stern look, raising an eyebrow.

"Hopefully, there's nothing valuable in there."

"Really? Matt, we've gone through forty boxes, and not one thing in any of them is valuable."

"Well, maybe forty-one and forty-two will be different."

"Make that forty-three," Nicholas corrected, dropping one more box on top of the other two.

"Ugh," Y/N groaned, scowling at Matt. "I just want to shower."

"Alright, look, take my keys," Matt said, pulling them from his pocket. "Take my car, go to your apartment and get whatever you need for your shower, then go to my house and take one. Use all the hot water if you want to, I don't care. I'll get one of the guys to bring me home."

Y/N stared at Matt, her eyes etched with curiosity.

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to inconvenience you or anything."

"You're not. Honest," Matt assured her, with a soft grin.

Y/N's lips curled into a sweet smile, graciously accepting the offer.

"I won't make a mess. And I won't use all your hot water. You won't even know I was there."

Matt nodded, watching as Y/N turned around and walked out of the warehouse, silently hoping she would wreck his entire house.

Matt pulled the spare key out from the small box behind the planter, unlocking the door. His two boys greeted him with wagging tails and hand licks, so excited that dad was home and after plenty of pets, kisses, and outside potty breaks, Matt finally climbed the stairs to check if Y/N was still in the shower. It was quiet, not a trace of running water.

"Y/N?"

Matt checked the spare bathroom first, hoping Y/N didn't choose to use it; not when he had the huge walk in one in his bathroom. To his disappointment, she had, which honestly didn't surprise him.

"Y/N?" Matt called out again. Her stuff was still in the bathroom, so she had to be here somewhere.

Going back downstairs, Matt checked the kitchen and the living room, stopping immediately when he glanced over the couch. Y/N was curled up under a blanket, fast asleep. She was a beautiful sight to see, so relaxed and at peace, making Matt's heart race.Kneeling down next to her and gently brushing strands of hair away from her face, Matt watched Y/N sleep, focusing on all the pretty little things about her he had never noticed before. After a few minutes, he decided that a bed would better suit Y/N than the couch. Carefully lifting her, he carried her upstairs and laid her down gently in the comfort of his bed.

It was pitch black when Y/N awoke to the sound of silence. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she looked around, trying to figure out where she was. The touch of a hand on her lower back startled her, but the voice did not.

"Hey," came the sleepy voice of Matt as he rolled over on his side. By now the dim light from the hall seeped into the darkness, creating the right amount of light for them to see each other.

"Hey."

"You fell asleep on the couch."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Matt. I didn't mean to. I just,"

"It's fine, Y/N," Matt said, scooting closer to her. "You don't have to apologize."

"You sure?" Y/N sounded so uncertain that Matt was being honest and it bothered him.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Why do you always question me when I say it's okay?"

Matt sat up next to her, their shoulders touching. Her being this close to him was really messing with his head and his heart.

"I don't know," Y/N, huffed a laugh looking away. But Matt stopped her.

"And why do you always look away from me when I'm trying to be nice to you," laying his hand over her cheek to pull her back so that he could look at her.

Through the soft glow of the moon and the hall lights, Y/N never looked more beautiful to Matt than she did right now, with messy hair and sleepy eyes. He was captivated by her, afraid to look anywhere else but at her. His thumb trailed back and forth over her lips as they continued staring at one another and the utter silence was the perfect setting for the light sound of only their heartbeats.

Matt's eyes darted between Y/N's.

"How have I never noticed how beautiful you are?"

Y/N shrugged. "I'm pretty average."

"Whatever. Don't even pretend you don't know how incredibly sexy and amazing you are."

Y/N just stared at Matt. "If you say so."

"I do. You're pretty perfect."

"Oh god, Matt! I'm a ridiculous mess," Y/N groaned, bringing her hands to her face.

"Hey, no you're not. Come here." Matt pulled Y/N towards him, shifting their bodies until she was sitting between his legs, up against his chest.

"Good?" 

Y/N nodded, leaning all the way back against him. Matt was warm and comfortable, making it even better when his arms came around and wrapped around her.

"Is this okay?"

... "Better than okay," she sighed, resting her head against his shoulder.

Matt leaned over and placed a soft kiss on the side of her temple. The feeling of his lips on her skin made Y/N shiver.

"Goosebumps," Matt whispered against her ear, his hands trailing up and down her arms.

"Matt," she whimpered in the dark, her voice trembling.

He kissed the side of her face and this time she tilted her head so he could get a better angle. The feeling of Matt's lips gliding along her skin made Y/N clench her thighs together. This was wrong. He was her boss, her friend. But why did it feel so right?

"Matt, what are we?" she softly asked as his hands found hers.

"We don't have to be anything. I'm tired of people trying to label us."

"You know the others already think we're something, right?

"I had a feeling."

"Are they right?"

"You tell me, Y/N," Matt answered, lacing his fingers through hers. She shifted, turning around and facing him.

"I think you know what we are, Matt. I think you just want me to be the first to say it."

Matt clenched his jaw tight, unable to hide the way his body was reacting towards her. He was dying to tell her the truth, yet scared she'd run away. But then she surprised him by wrapping her arms around his neck and throwing her legs on either side of him, pulling herself up into his lap. Y/N gasped lightly the moment she felt his hard length press against her core, causing Matt to grunt.

"Then say it, Y/N. Tell me what we are, what you want, and I'll give it to you, whatever it is."

The desperate, yet promising look in Matt's eyes was enough for Y/N. With her arms around his neck, she leaned into him and kissed him, softly at first, hoping this wasn't a mistake. She pulled back, looking at Matt's reaction. His eyes were blown wide with surprise yet with a hungry need for more.

"I can't lie anymore, Matt. I want you, and not just as a one night stand."

Matt smiled, slipping his hands around her face, pulling her back in for another heated kiss, this time harder.

"I'm all yours baby. I'm not going anywhere," he promised, pulling back for a moment to look at her. "And fuck, don't ever stop looking at me like the way you are right now."

Y/N giggled, throwing herself back into another kiss with Matt.

"Baby, I can't hold back anymore," Matt groaned the second she pressed her core harder against his erection. "I want you, right here, now," he panted between her kisses.

"Then take me, Matt. I'm yours."

Matt gazed at her for a moment, hoping that what she was saying was true.

"You're serious? No fucking with my head?"

Y/N smiled, grabbing the waistband of her shorts and pulling them off her. Because it was dark, Matt couldn't see her, but he didn't have to. Y/N took his hand and placed it directly between her legs, letting him feel how wet she was for him.

"I'm yours, Matthew. Only yours."

With neither one of them denying their feelings any longer, her promise was all Matt needed. Slipping two fingers instantly inside her, he claimed Y/N as his by making her cum on just his fingers alone. It was unlike anything Matt had ever felt before. She made him feel powerful, fully in charge and capable of anything. Their love making for the first time changed everything for both of them. There was no fear, no questions, just wanting and love, neither one of them able to get enough of the other. The room was filled with nothing but moonlight and moans, cries of passion and groans of ecstasy mixed with the smell of sweat and sex. It was unlike anything they had ever experienced. It was love; pure, undoubting, unwavering love.