#wire elasticity

[srjsteel]

5 Factors That Affect Binding Wire Strength

Material Composition

Binding wire serves as the unsung hero in countless creation tasks, preserving essential additives together even as closing largely invisible in the finished shape. The power and durability of this seemingly easy material can dramatically affect mission consequences, yet many contractors forget about the factors that determine wire's overall performance. Understanding what influences binding cord power helps save you from expensive disasters and ensures structural integrity throughout packages ranging from reinforcement tying to securing dowel bars in concrete slabs.

Material composition stands as the primary determinant of binding wire performance. High-carbon steel varieties provide superior tensile strength compared to moderate metallic options, making them perfect for programs with giant stress masses. When binding wire connects critical structural elements like dowel bars, this composition difference becomes particularly significant.

Gauge Thickness

Gauge thickness directly correlates with binding wire strength capabilities. Thicker gauges naturally provide greater holding power but require more physical effort during installation. T The dating between dowel bars and binding cord illustrates this stability flawlessly—whilst heavier dowel bars require more potent connections, overly thick binding wire can be hard to manipulate precisely in the course of installation. Experienced contractors select suitable gauges based totally on specific challenge necessities in preference to defaulting to a single thickness for all packages.

Protective Coatings

Protective coatings considerably have an impact on binding twine longevity and performance. Galvanization, PVC coating, and specialized anti-corrosion treatments save you from untimely deterioration, which can compromise energy. This protection becomes especially critical when binding wire secures construction rings or dowel bars in exterior applications exposed to moisture and environmental stressors. Quality binding wire maintains its performance characteristics even when challenged by adverse conditions that would quickly degrade inferior products.

Manufacturing Consistency

Manufacturing consistency often separates premium binding wire from problematic alternatives. Variations in wire diameter, coating thickness, or material properties can create weak points that fail under stress. When securing construction rings or connecting reinforcement, these inconsistencies introduce unpredictable performance that compromises structural integrity. Reputable suppliers maintain strict quality control standards throughout production, ensuring every foot of binding wire delivers consistent performance characteristics.

Installation Technique

Installation technique plays a surprisingly significant role in binding wire effectiveness. Proper twisting and tightening methods maximize holding strength while minimizing stress concentration that can lead to failure. This becomes particularly evident when binding wire secures dowel bars or construction rings that experience ongoing stress from structural movement. Training installers on proper techniques ensures binding wire performs to its full capacity regardless of the specific application demands.

Environmental Exposure and Compatibility

Weather exposure during construction phases affects binding wire strength before permanent encasement in concrete or other materials. Extended UV exposure, moisture absorption, and temperature extremes can degrade certain binding wire types prematurely. Projects utilizing construction rings and dowel bars in exposed settings require binding wire specifically formulated to withstand these intermediate conditions without performance degradation.

The interaction between binding wire and connected components influences overall system strength. Compatibility with dowel bars, construction rings, and other elements ensures proper load distribution without creating stress concentration points. This system-level perspective helps contractors select binding wire that complements specific project materials rather than creating potential failure points through mismatched components.

Final Thoughts

Quality binding wire represents a modest investment that yields significant returns through improved structural integrity and reduced maintenance requirements. By understanding how material composition, gauge, coatings, manufacturing consistency, and proper installation techniques influence binding wire strength, contractors can make informed decisions that enhance project outcomes. When binding together critical elements like construction rings or securing precisely positioned dowel bars, these seemingly small details make a substantial difference in both immediate performance and long-term structural durability.

[mitamicah]

Guys; i made my first bracelet 🤭

@formulalakana I dont manage to get other made by monday then this one is for you 🤗

[foreignobjecticus]

My Uniqlo jeans have suffered sudden and total molecular disintegration in the space of one wash cycle... stretched elastic, worn out waistband, splitting seams...

I've worn them basically weekly for the past 7 years. Bah! Clothing these days...

[florida3exclamationpoints]

What kind of jewelry should I make. Please I am begging

[crapy-stones]

[datgreenmonstah]

Reinforced the cardboard where some of the screws and wires were attached to with some plastic and now the ears are more sensitive which is awesome. I can’t close the mouth with my jaw alone like I have so I’ll be adding some elastic to the jaw. But I’m happy with where it’s going, now to just build ontop of it.

Enjoy

[saprobiont]

No cause this is so her

OK wheres that image of the Romanian guy standing around a Boston Dynamics dog and he's pulled the machinery out of it and is using the skeleton as a grill. I need to draw Alyx Vance as that.

[srjsteel]

5 Factors That Affect Binding Wire Strength

Material Composition

Binding wire serves as the unsung hero in countless creation tasks, preserving essential additives together even as closing largely invisible in the finished shape. The power and durability of this seemingly easy material can dramatically affect mission consequences, yet many contractors forget about the factors that determine wire's overall performance. Understanding what influences binding cord power helps save you from expensive disasters and ensures structural integrity throughout packages ranging from reinforcement tying to securing dowel bars in concrete slabs.

Material composition stands as the primary determinant of binding wire performance. High-carbon steel varieties provide superior tensile strength compared to moderate metallic options, making them perfect for programs with giant stress masses. When binding wire connects critical structural elements like dowel bars, this composition difference becomes particularly significant.

Gauge Thickness

Gauge thickness directly correlates with binding wire strength capabilities. Thicker gauges naturally provide greater holding power but require more physical effort during installation. T The dating between dowel bars and binding cord illustrates this stability flawlessly—whilst heavier dowel bars require more potent connections, overly thick binding wire can be hard to manipulate precisely in the course of installation. Experienced contractors select suitable gauges based totally on specific challenge necessities in preference to defaulting to a single thickness for all packages.

Protective Coatings

Protective coatings considerably have an impact on binding twine longevity and performance. Galvanization, PVC coating, and specialized anti-corrosion treatments save you from untimely deterioration, which can compromise energy. This protection becomes especially critical when binding wire secures construction rings or dowel bars in exterior applications exposed to moisture and environmental stressors. Quality binding wire maintains its performance characteristics even when challenged by adverse conditions that would quickly degrade inferior products.

Manufacturing Consistency

Manufacturing consistency often separates premium binding wire from problematic alternatives. Variations in wire diameter, coating thickness, or material properties can create weak points that fail under stress. When securing construction rings or connecting reinforcement, these inconsistencies introduce unpredictable performance that compromises structural integrity. Reputable suppliers maintain strict quality control standards throughout production, ensuring every foot of binding wire delivers consistent performance characteristics.

Installation Technique

Installation technique plays a surprisingly significant role in binding wire effectiveness. Proper twisting and tightening methods maximize holding strength while minimizing stress concentration that can lead to failure. This becomes particularly evident when binding wire secures dowel bars or construction rings that experience ongoing stress from structural movement. Training installers on proper techniques ensures binding wire performs to its full capacity regardless of the specific application demands.

Environmental Exposure and Compatibility

Weather exposure during construction phases affects binding wire strength before permanent encasement in concrete or other materials. Extended UV exposure, moisture absorption, and temperature extremes can degrade certain binding wire types prematurely. Projects utilizing construction rings and dowel bars in exposed settings require binding wire specifically formulated to withstand these intermediate conditions without performance degradation.

The interaction between binding wire and connected components influences overall system strength. Compatibility with dowel bars, construction rings, and other elements ensures proper load distribution without creating stress concentration points. This system-level perspective helps contractors select binding wire that complements specific project materials rather than creating potential failure points through mismatched components.

Final Thoughts

Quality binding wire represents a modest investment that yields significant returns through improved structural integrity and reduced maintenance requirements. By understanding how material composition, gauge, coatings, manufacturing consistency, and proper installation techniques influence binding wire strength, contractors can make informed decisions that enhance project outcomes. When binding together critical elements like construction rings or securing precisely positioned dowel bars, these seemingly small details make a substantial difference in both immediate performance and long-term structural durability.

[letternotekisses]

overwatch men react to you pulling their boxers down w/your teeth 🫦

Mauga enjoys it probably a tad too much, smiling at you lasciviously, his sharp canines glinting in the low light as you grip the elastic in between your teeth. By the time you’re done he’s already hard and pulsing against your cheek. Better get to work on finishing what you’ve started, sweetheart.

Junkrat gets overexcited. He’s a jittery mess before you’ve even dropped to your knees. When you do finally drag his boxers down, his cock stands to attention almost comically fast and he’s impatiently leaning down to grope at you, growling in your ear that he just can’t wait darl—

Lucio freezes up for a minute like you’ve shocked him, his mouth open like a guppy. He’s rigid and uncharacteristically quiet, until he’s shaking a pleased shiver out of his shoulders. Damn, that was hot.

Hanzo lights up in a furious blush that coats his magnificent cheekbones. There’s a scoff on his lips that says this behaviour is uncouth, but the raging hard on he’s sporting says otherwise.

Reaper lets out an interested grunt, before settling a clawed gauntlet on top of your head. He thumbs your forehead in a faux gesture of romance, guiding your lips to the engorged flesh of his cock. Better get to work if you want to earn his favour, sweetness. Party tricks like that won’t woo him so easily!

Cassidy is all too pleased, chewing on the end of a cigar as you busy yourself. He hums, the cherry of his cigar wafting smoke sensually into the air before he stubs it out to give you his full attention, thumbing your cheek as you part your lips for him. You look so darn pretty like that, sugar.

Genji is pleasantly surprised. Your eagerness is what turns him on more than anything, so watching you drag the elastic of his boxers down to kiss up his cock like it was the best thing you’d ever held had him a little dizzy with want.

Roadhog lets out a gruff, breathy laugh. He cocks his head down at you, the sweet little thing rubbing and licking at him through his boxers, whining up at him. He’ll indulge you, just the once, let’s see if you can take it all in one go this time.

Lifeweaver watches you patiently with a knowing glint in his eyes. Exhaling softly when you pull him out of his boxers and rest his cock against your cheek. A cheeky little thing, aren’t you? Although, Niran finds that two can play at this game, and soon enough he’s dragging your panties down with his teeth intent on eating you out until you’re crying his name.

Baptiste is all smiles. He lays the charm on real thick, but it falters a little once you lick and suck your way around his v-line, grasping the elastic of his boxers between your teeth and letting it snap back against his skin playfully. Keep it up and he’s putty in your hands, rest assured he’ll get you back for it, though.

Sigma finds the presence of you under his desk a comfort while he works. He’s familiar with it when you tug his underwear away, eager to warm him with your mouth. Siebren keeps his cool, but there’s always a delighted shiver that climbs his spine, twitching against your lips at the very thought of you down there, between his thighs.

Reinhardt gets overeager, his abdominal muscles flexing as he strains against the primal urge to abuse his superior strength, to pick you up and absolutely ruin you. It’s worth the wait, though. As you look so pretty, lathing your tongue over his heavy cock as it rests on your face. He fights to be gentle with you - he doesn’t want to break you, well, not until you’re well and good and all stretched out first.

Ramattra doesn’t necessarily wear boxers, but he’ll let you lavish the wires in his hips. Pluck at them with your teeth all you want, little human, you couldn’t make a dent. Ramattra will let you have your fun, but it won’t save you from being ravaged by him later on ;)

Doomfist quirks a brow and smirks at you before placing a heavy, warm hand on the back of your head to guide your movements. You’re eager to please, and it’s what he loves about you. That, and the fact that you look so gorgeous speared upon his cock, clearly too big for you to take, but you’ll try for him anyway, won’t you?

[piroulinewafers]

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: caleb x fem! reader 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: caleb is a little too into your new braces. 𝐜𝐰: pseudo-incest, general nsfw warning, weird teeth discussion idk.

caleb noticed it the moment she stepped into the room. it wasn’t just the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes— it was the way she kept her lips pressed tights. the small winces she tried to hide whenever she spoke, the quivering jut of her lower lip, and the faint flush creeping up her neck like she was expecting judgement. 

“what’s wrong?” he asked, gently, from where he was lounging on the couch, a hand unconsciously moving to pick at a stray thread on his blue pajama shirt. 

she hesitated at the threshold, shifting her bag from one shoulder to the other. “you’re gonna laugh…”

“not unless you trip over the coffee table,” he teased lightly. “even then, only a little.” 

that earned a reluctant smile. sort of. she crossed the room and collapsed onto the other end of the couch with a groan, the pillows acquiescing to the additional weight. “i got braces…”

caleb blinked. “oh. that’s it? i thought you were thinkin’ of runnin’ away.” 

“that’s it!?” she shot back, rubbing her jaw. “i feel like all my teeth are digging into my gums… i can’t eat anything but mush, and i look like a kid playing with tinfoil.”

he sat up a little straighter, watching her face carefully. she was chewing her bottom lip— a habit she probably shouldn’t keep with all that new hardware in her little mouth.

caleb leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he studied her face with an intense, almost obsessive gaze, the gears in his brain whirring. his purple eyes flicked back and forth, taking in every detail of her frown face, once adorned with a perfect smile.

“come here,” caleb said, his voice low and commanding. he patted his lab, and indication for her to come closer and sit with him. “let me see ‘em properly.” 

“i look ridiculous— “

“you don’t,” he said firmly, reaching out to tug at her sleeve. “c’mon. just humour your gege a little.”

reluctantly, she got up, slowly stalking over before settling herself onto his lap, her frame fitting perfectly against his own. 

caleb wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close as he reached up with his other hand to tilt her chin towards him. his fingers brushed against her cheek, tilting her head this way and that as he examined the braces covering her teeth. 

“sore?” he asked, his voice low as he ran his thumb over the edge of the brace on her front tooth. he could feel her nodding against his hand, and he couldn’t help but frown at the thought of her being uncomfortable. 

the braces gleamed under the dim light of their living room— tiny metal brackets carefully glued to each tooth, linked by a taut silver wire threaded through each one and each individually wrapped with a pretty pink elastic band, like a present. her gums were a little bit puffy around the edges. 

“they look… different,” he said, trying to find the right words. different from what he was used to, at least. he had always loved her smile, the way it would light up a room and make him feel at ease. but now, seeing her with braces, it was strange. 

foreign. almost wrong. but not bad.

as he sat there, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, thick fingers brushing over her teeth, he couldn’t shake the feeling of possessiveness that washed over her. these braces were a part of her now, a part of his meimei. and he wanted to claim them, to make them his own in some way as he had discreetly claimed every part of her before.

his mind began to wander, drifting to places he knew it shouldn’t go as he stared at her braces, a twisted desire stirring within him. 

he imagined the cold metal glinting with a different sort of moisture, painted a creamy white as he marked her mouth with his seed. the thought of seeing his own spend clinging to the wires and brackets, staining her once pristine braces, sent a shiver of perverse excitement down his spine.

he pictured her on his knees, her doe eyes looking up at him as she took his hard, aching cock into her hands. 

“gege, i dunno… i don’t wanna hurt you.” the idea was laughable. she, hurt him? she would be so silly to even think such a thing, but he knew her pretty little head would flit through all sorts of scenarios. 

he could practically see the braces catching on his sensitive skin, the metal digging and almost nicking his flesh as she tried her best to please him. the discomfort, the pain… he was sure it would feel exquisite, a delicious mix of pleasure and pain that would surely send him over.

caleb’s cock would be too big for her small mouth, stretching her lips wide and making it hard for her to keep a proper seal. she would have to use her tongue, running it along the underside of his shaft, over the head, swirling around it clumsily as she tried to find a good rhythm.

of course, it would be a pathetic, laughable attempt, but that’s what made it perfect. it’s what made her perfect.

he would surely have to guide her, his large hands cupping her face and holding her still as he thrust into her warm, wet mouth. he would be gentle at first, letting her get used to the feeling of him on her tongue, filling her throat. but as the pleasure mounted, he would lose control, his hips snapping forward as he fucked into the tight, slick heat of her mouth. 

he didn’t want to hurt her, not on purpose of course, but he could imagine the panicked expression on her face, a twist of discomfort and a yearn for his approval as he battered her poor throat. would her new braces nick and bite at inside of her mouth? the sound of her muffled whimpers would surely be enough to make any man cum.

caleb could only imagine the sight of his thick, hot cum spurting out from between her stretched lips, painting her braces and teeth an obscene shade of white. he would pull out at just the last moment, gripping himself tightly as he aimed his cock at her waiting mouth, watching spurt after spurt of his seed lad on her cheeks, her lips, her teeth, her braces. a shiny, pearlescent white, his own personal brand of “toothpaste” just for his little sister. he would make sure she was covered in it, marked inside and out as his. 

his, his, his.

he swallowed thickly, trying his best to clear the his thoughts. he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help the way his imagination ran wild with the thought of marking her, claiming her in the most intimate way possible and tainting her innocence. 

“they’re not so bad,” he murmured, his thumb still brushing over the cold metal. “you’ll get used to them.” 

he looked into her eyes, seeing the embarrassment and slight discomfort reflected in them. his poor meimei… how would she be able to handle what life had to throw her way when she could barely handle this? 

“i promise.” 

she bit her lip again, teeth digging into the soft flesh as she looked up at caleb. “i guess,” she said, her voice small and uncertain. “i just… i feel so silly with them on. and they sorta hurt all the time.” she made a face, sticking out her tongue to show caleb the inside of her mouth, the braces glinting in the soft light of the room again. caleb couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression on her face. “aw, you poor baby,” he teased, his fingers moving to tap lightly against his nose after he sloppily wiped them on his pajama pants. “but hey, at least they’ll make your smile even more perfect than it already was.” he grinned her, his own teeth flashing

she simply rolled her eyes, gently pushing him, but not enough to actually force a distance between the two of them. not that he would allow that. “you’re just saying that.” she said, but there was no real heat behind her words.

caleb shrugged, his arm tightening around her waist. “hmm, maybe,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “but i’m still gonna make sure you’re okay. no matter what.” his eyes shone with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat, and she quickly looked away, a deep blush spreading across her face.

she knew that caleb meant every word he said. he had already been there for her, always looking out for her in a way that no one else ever had. and even through though these silly braces were a new thing, a new part of her… she knew that caleb would be there to help her. no matter what.

“just… don’t make fun of me too much, okay?” she warned.

caleb grinned, triumphant, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “no promises.” 

[derschleierfallt]

i had an epiphany. i can storyboard with anything. shoebox painted black and some barbies and my iphone camera. gonna put my sisi barbie doll TO WORK🙊

started plotting out my elisabeth animatic project oooohhh i’m in it now

[roosterforme]

I feel like Bob would be really good at overstimulation because he's so patient. He'd have you naked and in tears, several orgasms deep before he even took his shirt off.

I'm going to pretend @attapullman sent this (but she'd never go nonny about Bob), because I wrote this little ficlet as a birthday treat in response to this sexy thought. Happy birthday, Morgan!

I Need a Minute (Bob Floyd x Reader)

contains smut, fingering, adult language, overstimulation and confident Bob

Your boyfriend was not someone to mess with. You knew that for a fact. Sure, he looked sweet and innocent in his wire rimmed glasses and unassuming shirts, but inside, he was a thinker. A planner. Someone who took all the time necessary to make a decision and formulate a plan. And in your case, he was currently working on exacting his revenge.

Anyone else would have a hard time reading it on his face, but you knew him well enough to notice the soft twitch of his lips and the subtle glances he was sending your way. It was your own fault for the way you teased him at the diner, sliding your hand up inch by inch beneath the napkin that was spread out on his lap until you got to the sweet spot. While you casually talked to all of his aviator friends, you stroked him slowly through his jeans. As you laughed with Mickey and Javy, you gave him a little squeeze just to hear his soft grunt.

When everyone started to stand up, Bob was blushing as he said, "I need a minute." And you left him high and dry, climbing out of the oversized booth and making a mad dash for Natasha's car while Bob tried to hide what you did to him.

As you traipsed across the sandy beach with everyone else, Bob finally reached for your free hand. "Why don't we spread our blanket out over here?" he asked, tugging you to a stop. "The fireworks would be starting up in just a few minutes," he added. "We should get settled in."

He seemed completely calm, so you shook out the beach blanket and curled up with him so you were sitting between his legs. "Are you comfy?" you asked him over your shoulder, and he kissed the tip of your nose, making you smile.

"Very," he promised, and you turned to face the ocean just as the first red, green and orange fireworks lit up the sky. Even though you were wearing his Naval Academy sweatshirt over your sundress, you shivered as he whispered, "I'm about to be a lot more comfortable than you."

"What?" you gasped, realizing that everyone else was sitting in front of you. There was nobody watching as Bob gently pulled your legs further apart and kissed the side of your neck. Nobody noticed a damn thing when he tugged the fabric slowly up your legs and ran his thumb along your underwear, sending you scooting back against him. "What are you doing?" you whined softly, giving yourself away.

His fingers paused on the thin strip of cotton hiding your pussy from him. "Oh. You want this, huh?" When you nodded, dazed eyes focused on the fireworks, he kissed your earlobe. "You say that now."

One long finger slipped inside the elastic band of your underwear, and you gasped his name. Bob let his digit glide slowly up and down your slit while he made casually offhand comments like, "The green fireworks are my favorite. Did you know they are made out of barium salts?" Your only response was to moan a little louder, and he didn't stop you. The loud booming sounds blocked out your whines and breathy gasps as he slipped that finger inside you, lazily fucking you with it while his thumb found you clit.

He punctuated every thrust with a little swirl of his thumb, varying the speed as he went. You tried desperately to fuck yourself on that long finger, but he held you in place with his other hand. You were playing his little game now, and you knew it would be a little while before you came. 

His lips worked at your neck until you could feel a bruise forming. His teeth grazed your skin softly when you started to hiccup. You found out the hard way that the city of San Diego put on a glamorous thirty minute fireworks display for holidays, and Bob teased you for twenty-eight of them. Your breathing was so loud as he pumped his hand beneath your dress and whispered, "You want to come, don't you? You want to soak my hand even more, huh?"

"Bob!" you begged loud enough that one of the others must have heard, but Bob just kept slowing his pace until you felt tears in your eyes. Your makeup was probably a mess. Sweat broke out on your brow. But he just slowed down until he was gently tapping your pussy with his fingers.

"Ask me really nicely."

"Please, Bob!" Your voice broke on the words as he rammed two fingers deep inside you and stroked your clit with his thumb. The grand finale of fireworks blasted across the sky as you finally came, eyes closed and back arched. You didn't care who saw you like this as long as you got the relief you needed.

He kissed that tender spot behind your ear and whispered, "You're lucky I'm so nice," as you rolled your hips against the heel of his hand. And then he was slipping it back out of your panties and tugging your dress into place as everyone around you started to collect their things. When he stood up and looked down at you, he smirked as you sprawled out on your back, your limbs completely boneless. "You ready to go?" he asked with his hands on his hips.

"I need a minute."

[alltubedandwiredup]

Been fantasizing about living with my own personal doctor… who takes good care of his special patient.

Takes me to my room and tells me they are getting me ready for treatment… they connect me to an ecg… a nasal cannula is put on my face… pulse oxymeter on my finger.

I turn my head and look at the million machines by my bedside… the cardiac monitor… the ivs… the oxygen tanks…

A ball gag holds my mouth open

- dont want you biting or screaming baby - im told

I then get tied down, an oxygen mask goes over the cannula and the gag. The elastic tight against my cheeks.

I can help but stare at my self in the mirror at my right.

A vibrator between my legs. It turns on

- we are going to have fun are we? - they say sweetly as they run a hand trough my hair.

- look at what a pretty patient you are… my good girl…-

They stay always at my side, the vibe buzzing away as i loose myself… staring at that poor girl in the mirror, breathing through tubes and wired up… drooling as she bites and sucks on the gag between her teeth.

[b-free]

Two drones walked through a forest on Yttrium-2, slowly walking as they looked around, avoiding the light where they could.

One was a tall, looking like a heavily modified Disassembly Drone. Missing the tail canister and headlights with normal looking arms, her purple optics scanning the area with a curious curiosity. Lavender dyed hair back in a long ponytail as she kept her companion close.

The other was a normal, if heavy scarred and damaged, Worker Drone. Her navy blue optics were mainly looking ahead through her half cracked visor, occasionally looking at the other with worry. She was wearing a thick black coat, wearing something underneath her left sleeve with an elastic band of sorts wrapped around her left thigh.

One thing was clear, they were lost.

"This is... Extremely different..." The taller one said, her wire tail wrapped around the others hand.

@yinyans-sideblog

The pair soon arrive at a wide clearing, well traveled by the look of the dirt and grass on the ground making a small path through the area near the trees. The grass is a bit tall here, but what draws the attention is the drone sitting on a large stone that juts out of the ground.

Wavy light brown hair is pulled back into a low pony-tail as his aqua eye-lights focus on the notebook in his hand, a tablet in a black protective case hanging at his side from a cross-body strap for protection. He's wearing a casual green tank top and some brown cargo pants with hiking boots.

It's not super clear what he's doing, other than seeming rather happy in the sun. At least until he hears a branch snap from the direction of the pair of lost drones. It makes him turn so fast that they barely catch the decal on his shirt, a lemon and lime with drawn on faces that reads 'Sour Power', before he's fallen backwards with a yelp.

[wilyserpentofeden]

THE BOOT CURSE HAS BEEN LIFTED. REPEAT, THE BOOT CURSE HAS BEEN LIFTED. I FINALLY FOUND SOME REASONABLY PRICED BLACK FAUX SNAKESKIN PATTERNED CHELSEA BOOTS. EVERY OTHER PAIR I FOUND WAS SOLD OUT IN MY SIZE BUT THIS ONE WASN'T. WAHAHAHAAA.

My endeavor to get a pair of secondhand snakeskin boots is cursed every time I make a purchase Im immediately refunded by the seller bc they sold them to someone else and forgot to take the listing down!! Three times this has happened to me!!!! Thrice denied snakeskin boots!!!! There is a plot against me! So clearly my only option is to manifest snakeskin boot-shaped feet like Crowley intended I'll see y'all when I grow scales ✌️

[holy-puckslibrary]

─ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜.

pairing(s) — fwb!MATTHEW TKACHUK x reader wc — 3.2k synopsis — best not-boyfriend boyfriend ever! (read the request here) note — bestie, your brain? marvelous! this was an absolute joy to write, and i hope this captures your vision!!! thank you for the request <3

main masterlist

content warnings under the cut.

cw — hints of a debut-inspired ensemble; complicated, grossly intimate situationship + emotional constipation; angst (not really) to fluffy fluffy; tswizzle references; suggestive section: "heavy petting" but nothing explicit / fade to black; brief alcohol mention + consumption; brief mention of food (no specifics); and ~emotions~ 

I. it’s getting so much clearer… 

Matthew regrets making you a key. 

Majorly.

If he’d known the can of worms he was opening when he unceremoniously dropped them in your lap one night, he would’ve listened to his brother; you don’t give girlfriend privileges to women who aren’t your girlfriend. It only leads to hurt feelings, broken console controllers, and unnecessary trouble. 

However, it’s highly unlikely this is the “trouble” to which Brady was referring. 

Rooted in the entryway, he surveys the damage. 

Beads of all shapes, sizes, and colors sit in a sea of jars. Some have spilled out under the coffee table and couch, others have made it all the way into the kitchen. Knotted balls of elastic are sprinkled throughout the chaos, as are multiple pairs of scissors, skeins of embroidery floss, and shards of construction paper. There are markers everywhere, but for some unknown reason, the crayons and sticker sheets are in nice, neat piles. A white feather boa is draped over the entertainment center and there’s a pink one curled by his feet. And, in the eye of the storm, is an anxious lump frantically stringing together DIY jewelry and muttering along to the megamix blaring through the room; he doubts you even heard him come home. 

“Sweetheart, is there a reason it looks like a craft store threw up everywhere?” Matthew shouts as he gingerly braves the hurricane. 

Something crunches under his shoe, and from the sound alone, he knows it would’ve been worse than stepping on a Lego if his feet were bare. 

He also knows that if the music were even a decibel lower, you would be pissed beyond belief. How dare he move freely through his own home without first checking for rogue pieces of plastic? His ears are ringing, but he’s grateful for it. From many years of mistakes and misadventures, he's learned you won’t get on top if you’re mad, regardless of how much groveling he does. And he's got one foot in the doghouse after last weekend as it is. 

“T-minus two days ’til Taylor, Matthew,” you grumble from the floor. “What do you think?” 

You’ve been at this for weeks. It gets worse the closer the concert gets. The mess and your mood. 

Matthew isn’t stupid, and he knows you better than he lets on. You panic under the weight of your own (often unrealistic) expectations. You need everything to be perfect, or the entire world crumbles. This, Night One of the Florida dates of the Eras Tour, is, understandably, no exception. If anything, the pressure’s dialed up to eleven. 

In stressing over every little detail, you’ve made yourself miserable. Watching you unravel makes his chest feel strange. 

You won’t ask for help. You don’t want it, either.

But, he can’t let you flounder. For his own sanity, he can’t do it. And he does care about you. Maybe not in the way everyone assumes or hopes, but he does. He’d do almost anything to lighten your load. 

Yet, Matthew treads lightly. If he’s too forthcoming, you could get the wrong idea. He doesn’t want to spook you, and he can’t have any wires getting crossed. What’s so good about your situation is how markedly uncomplicated it’s been. He refuses to be the one who fucks it up for everyone. 

So, he does what he can, and he does it without making a big deal about it. 

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he sinks down onto the floor beside you. You’re perched on one of the obnoxious throw pillows you insisted he order to “spruce up” the space and make it look less “bachelor pad-y." As if that’s not exactly what it is. He takes this as rare permission to do the same, placing one under his hips and cuddling another to his chest as he stretches out on his stomach, phone in hand. 

Well, as stretched as a person can be in the middle of an obstacle course. 

Between the second play of “cowboy like me” and the third of “Tim McGraw,” his various feeds dry up, and he’s spammed his contacts into oblivion. You're still chugging along, like a Sad Girl automaton locked in an endless glittery assembly line. 

At one point, you murmur, “Give me your wrist." 

And he does. 

Matthew’s taken aback when you loop elastic around it to get a measurement.

He’s confused, but not for the reason one might assume. He’s painfully familiar with the friendship bracelet phenomenon and the giddy exchanges, having been force-fed hours' worth of tour content over the past year, but he never thought you’d rope him into it.

The buzz under his skin is oddly auspicious, watching you clip the appropriate length before reaching for the pile laid out near his head. 

It’s not long before you make the same request again. However, this time, you slide on a custom creation. You fiddle with it for a moment, then turn back to your station to begin the next one on the list. 

“And in which era does she cosplay as a camp counselor?” Matthew teases as he thumbs the letter beads.

They spell out a moniker he’d honestly find offensive if you hadn’t looped the song one too many times. He wonders if you’ve made yourself the matching one. 

You emit a sound that haunts his nightmares and side-eye him in a way that would’ve made a lesser man disintegrate. 

“If you don’t want it, give it back so I can give it to someone who will appreciate my time and effort,” you bite with your hand outstretched, palm up and open expectantly. 

Matthew shoves it away, suddenly defensive. “I never said that.” 

The sun slips behind the fence an hour later, and the sky bathes the house in purple-pink hues. As he gathers ingredients in the kitchen, Matthew watches the slow-moving clouds absentmindedly. He hasn't felt this content in a while.

Arms full, he wades through the arts and crafts on the way to the backyard. 

You’re still in the den, still hunched over in the same place he found you in. He shakes his head when he passes you, knowing he’s got an hour (at least) moonlighting as a masseuse in his future. 

You don’t startle or acknowledge him until the grill set you bought for his birthday clatters to the floor. 

“Why’re there two cowboy hats getting glitter all over my patio?” he asks, despite knowing the answer. And hating it. Vehemently. 

You fix him with an unamused glare. Your brow quirks, and your hands still. Then, you blink at him very slowly. Like he’s an idiot. Like he just asked a stupid question—because he did. 

Matthew’s head wags so intensely that his neck cracks.

“Oh, hell no.” 

II. it’s coming undone…

Matthew scowls at his reflection. 

“—looks so fucking stupid.” 

He can’t tell if he looks worse with or without the fur-trimmed, shimmery cowboy hat. And, honestly, it's a little distressing. After temporarily ditching it, he tugs at his curls. Then, the hem of the jersey. 

Resigned, he reaches across the bed for the homemade accessory. Wearing it will make you smile—and it gives his dignity something to hide behind. 

Twitter’s going to have a fucking field day. 

Your panicked voice spills out from the hotel bathroom, “Really?” 

“Of course, it fucking do—” 

His tirade of vanity grinds to a screeching halt at the sight of you, backlit and wilting. 

“That’s not—ah, fuck.” Matthew digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “What I meant was—me, it looks stupid on me. Not you. On you, it looks… It looks…” 

“It looks, what?” 

It looks like he’s glad none of your friends were available because he won’t have to pretend you’re less than you are.

No lectures, no goading, no scrutiny. Just you. 

“Right.” That’s the word he settles for. “It looks right.” 

The emphasis chips away at what little believability the underwhelming affirmation had. That much is evident from the insecurity bleeding through your makeup. 

“Right,” you parrot. Skeptically, you drag out the vowel long enough that it disappears into the bathroom with you. 

Before the door clicks shut, Matthew’s already berating himself for whatever just happened. For acting like a complete doofus with a foot shoved down his throat. 

His mind is as quick as his tongue is sharp. He’s got confidence for days and a cocky demeanor primed and on-call, one that most women find endearing. Yourself included. He’s never had an issue dishing out pretty words or flirting before, especially not with you. 

With you, banter came easy. Sweet or salacious, it didn’t matter. The bob and weave, from platonic chatter to something charged and suggestive, is effortless. And it’s been that way for as long as he can remember. It's innate. He should be able to uphold his reputation in his sleep. 

What’s gotten into him? 

(You’d say the power of Taylor Swift, or some shit. Which is why he doesn’t open the floor for discussion. Among other reasons.) 

Matthew makes the executive decision to put things right. To redeem himself, to feel more like himself. 

His palms are hot and tingling as he sets off to do what he does best. Something fool-proof. Something that’ll erase the past ten minutes from the collective consciousness. Something to scratch an itch...

He won't make it through three and a half hours without catching a public indecency charge. 

Not with you looking like that.  

“I was thinking,” Matthew trails off as he comes up behind you in the en suite bathroom. His hands land on the counter, one on either side of you. “We should fool around a little bit before we leave.” 

With his chest flush to your back and his chin propped on your shoulder, he blatantly checks you out.

You, albeit begrudgingly, find it flattering. On principle, you roll your eyes. 

You snort. “Funny." 

Sarcasm pinches his face as he unintelligibly mocks you. 

Whatever witty retort he had died on his tongue when you lean forward to put some eyeliner in your waterline, inadvertently pushing the curve of your backside right into his growing bulge. 

Matthew turns you to face him without warning. 

The kohl pencil goes flying, dotting the pristine space as it tumbles to the floor. Its final resting place is unknown; you’ll follow the smudge-crumbs later. 

Later, when he doesn’t have you pressed tight between the harsh edge of the counter and his chest. 

Later, when the dull ache in your arched back dissipates. 

Later, when his attraction isn’t so painfully tangible. 

Later, when he isn’t looking at you the way he is now.  

You’re sinking in a shade of blue you don’t recognize. It’s stormy, vast and disquieting. Like any collision, you’re unable to tear your eyes away even though you know you should. It betrays an aura of foreboding, yet somehow, Matthew’s charged gaze carries a soothing effect. It's hypnotic in an stomach-twisting way. 

“I’m not laughing, sweetheart.” He breathes the words through the slight part in your lips, his voice rich and thick like honey. 

“W-We need to be quick—” 

Matthew buries his face in the sweet-smelling crook of your neck. Intent on shutting you up, he succeeds with infuriating ease once he’s latched onto your throat. He nips and sucks whenever you protest, and soon, you don’t even bother trying anymore.

Why lie and deny when what you want feels this fucking good? 

When your nails dig impatient little half-moons into his forearms, Matthew bares his teeth with a triumphant hiss.  

He grins against your skin, humming atop your erratic pulse. 

“Better hurry up and spread ‘em, then.” 

Matthew’s between your dangling boots as soon as you’ve hoisted yourself onto the counter. Kneading the soft skin of your thighs, inching up and in with eager hands, he doesn’t slow or stop until the white Self-Titled sundress is bunched up in the hinge of your hips.

“That’s my girl.” 

III. it’s delicate…

“All Tequila, No Crime” isn’t as diabolical of a cocktail as it sounds. 

Spending $100+ to taste test it and three other signature mixed drinks is. 

A robbery, if you ask him. 

What's downright criminal, though, is your inability to finish a single one. A “Last Great American G&T” with a few sips missing, a half-finished “Midnight Mule,” and a watered-down “Blue Debut” sit abandoned amongst an assortment of sweet treats and small bites. 

As he waits for what he ordered, Matthew picks at the vibrant fruit salad. He’s about to pluck a honeydew star from the pile stacked high in a bowl fashioned from a watermelon rind when the back of his neck prickles. 

“Knock it off.”

You blink, bemused. 

Matthew, having watched your reaction in a reflection, rolls his eyes. 

Back still to you, he clarifies. “You promised you wouldn’t make this a whole thing.”  

“I'm not.” 

“You've never been a good liar.” 

“Isn't that a good thing?” you deflect. 

You turn your attention back to the lively stadium, watching as it fills with laughter and anticipation. You're hoping he'll take the hint and drop it, that he won't pull the night apart at the seams. 

He abandons the sprawling buffet table in favor of the plush recliner beside yours. Once settled, Matthew slides a plate of your favorites across the small table between you. 

“Don't change the subject.” 

The cement under your boots makes for a captive audience as you sail into dicey weather. “I know—I know what I said, and I'm really trying my best, but can you blame me? I mean, c’mon, Matty. Look where we are.”

“A Taylor Swift concert?” Matthew does what he does best.

You know his tells and his tricks. You indulge neither. 

“My first Taylor Swift concert. Ever. I came out of The Queue From Hell empty-handed and shit out of luck, yet here we are. The Eras Tour. And not way up the nosebleeds or side-stage with an obstructed view. A suite. A private, fifteen-person suite—for just us. You did that.” 

Matthew shifts uncomfortably. He scratches the shadow clinging to his jaw. He looks everywhere, at everything. Everything except you. 

“So?” 

The probe is firm yet reluctant but not inherently dismissive. 

“So,” you heave a labored sigh of unease. “—so, how could I not? This ‘whole thing’ is the kindest, most thoughtful gesture anyone’s ever done for me. It means the absolute world, and I know you know that.” 

A thick, paralyzing quiet descends on the balcony. 

He does know that, which is what makes it so terrible. He knows, he knows, he knows. Matthew knows; he wishes he didn’t. For years, he successfully kept it at bay because… because you can’t just un-know something like that. Even entertaining the thought felt too big a risk. It jeopardizes the delicate peace only willful ignorance can safeguard. 

“Alright, alright. Jesus, sweetheart. Can't have you emptying the tank before the show even starts,” Matthew teases as he thumbs the tears away. “How d’ya know I didn’t pull some strings just to put an end to your perpetual pity party?” 

He’s trying to lighten the mood. Hoping to inch away from the emotionally dense zone of uncharted territory, hoping you’ll have mercy—or take pity—on him and his plight of avoidance. 

And you do.  

Ever the benevolent people-pleaser. 

You take your foot off the gas. You retreat to the status quo. You yield, but for a good cause.

Good and right aren’t synonymous. And we can’t will them to be. So, instead, we choose our battles and bide our time. 

There’s no reason to rain on tonight’s parade. 

“Thank you,” you acquiesce.  

Mathew smiles. 

This ceasefire, this tacit truce, is as fragile as rice paper. It feels as though, if someone pushed too hard from either side, they'd go right through it unchallenged. But, for now, it's enough. 

He takes your hand and squeezes. “And for the hundredth time, you’re welcome.” 

IV. it’s been a long time coming…

He gets it now. 

Truthfully, he understood after the very first bridge of the night. There’s just something about the intimacy of the spectacle; it's… indescribable. With thousands from all walks of life gathered in a single stadium to celebrate nearly two decades of singing, crying, and growing up together, it wasn't difficult to get swept up in the magic. 

For someone who’d consider themselves fan-adjacent at best, he wasn’t expecting to feel much of anything, let alone goosebumps, misty-eyed. 

He can’t even imagine how extraordinarily special it must’ve been for you, a lifelong fan, to partake in the world’s most cinematic sing-along. To luck out with your opener of choice, to be surprised with your favorite song during the acoustic set—you could probably die happy. Matthew can still feel your tear-streaked cheek against his shoulder and your shakey hand clasped in his. And he’ll remember the warmth of your joy for the rest of his life. 

He, however, doesn't have to imagine how much the experience took out of you. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t pass out on me yet, sweetheart.” 

You’re one minute into a five-minute Uber ride, and he’s already had to nudge you twice. 

Curled against the cool window like a cat, you groggily protest, “I’m not. My mind is alive, promise.”  

He snorts. “Then why’re your eyes shut?” 

“They aren’t!” 

They absolutely are. 

Matthew tugs you across his lap with a smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Sounds like you need to get yours checked, Matthew Brendan,” you quip into his chest before drowning the backseat in delirious giggles. 

In the golden glow of the streetlamps, his smirk rests against your temple. 

Here is the moment. There have been hundreds like it in the years since you met. Lighthearted banter and late night laughter spill over into the early morning hours, all of it utter nonsense he wouldn’t trade for anything. It should be perfectly ordinary, but it's music to his ears. 

The cowboy boots he swore he wouldn’t carry home rest against his similarly sore calves. The ziplock bag, once bursting at the seams with bracelets, is empty and folded in his back pocket, and his arm is full from elbow to wrist. The glitter he contested clings to him like a second skin, there to stay. 

And he doesn’t hate it. 

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