#grammar and spelling errors probably

[firewasabeast]

i know you didn't ask for prompts but if you get a chance could you write something where tommy is in trouble (maybe during the bees chaos) and kinda has to rescue himself? like his helicopter crashes or something idk! sorry if this is a bother!

well this became a whole thing, so thanks for that! Also, you can send prompts anytime. I can't promise when I'll get to them, but I always try.

ao3 link

He was used to waking up to the sound of birds. He had a tree right by his window and, while none of them ever made a nest, there were plenty of birds that liked to stop by for a visit.

He'd worried about it when Evan first started staying over. Some people hated the sound of the chirps first thing in the morning, often starting before the sun was up.

But the first time Tommy woke up with Evan in his house, expecting him to be beside him in bed, he was surprised to find him squatted down and staring out the window.

“Morning.” Tommy's voice was husky of the morning. He blinked a few times to adjust to the sunlight shining in from the open window.

Evan turned to him with a smile. “You have blue birds. I think I saw a cardinal too, earlier. It was quick though. A finch got a worm in the dirt by the roots.” He looked back, nearly pressing his forehead to the glass, “This is so cool.”

Tommy was pretty sure he felt his heart swell twice it's size that day. He's also pretty sure that was the moment he fell in love. He didn't say it then, waited a couple more months for that. They'd only really been going out for a few weeks at that point, but he still felt it.

And it was a damn good feeling.

Everyday with Evan was a good feeling. He loved going out with him, or staying home. Loved to hear him go on rants about whatever research he'd been doing lately. He loved coming home to Evan cooking in his kitchen, or napping on his couch. He loved the texts they'd send each other during shifts. Tommy would often get ragged on about how often his phone would ding. “Are y'all sexting again?” his co-worker would ask with a snort. Tommy never told them that, most of the time, Evan was actually sending him the most G-rated photos of all time, and it was absolutely adorable. Like the one where he was holding a baby duck that they'd saved. Or the one where he was frying pork chops and had to take a selfie with them because they turned out so good. Or the one where Christopher dropped by the station for a visit and Evan snapped a picture with him while Chris was mid eye-roll. Those were his favorites.

He loved the phone calls with Evan too. It didn't matter if they'd been with each other all night, and left for work at the same time, and would be seeing one another right after their shift was over. When it was a quiet day at work, they were always reaching into their pockets to call one another. Sometimes at the same time.

Tommy loved the parts of Evan that Evan didn't love about himself. He loved that Evan was clingy, love that he talked a lot, loved that when he got something on his mind he had to do it and it had to be done right.

Tommy loved how aggressively he loved his family and friends.

He loved the grumpy side of Evan, and loved that Evan seemed to love Tommy's grumpy side too.

He also loved the look on Evan's face when he was about to come. Loved how their bodies fit together so perfectly, like they were made for each other.

Loved how easily he blushed. Loved falling asleep next to him, their bodies tangled together in one way or another. He loved waking up beside Evan. Getting to see his hair all tousled and the little drips of drool that would escape down the side of his mouth.

“That's a lot of things to love about a person,” Evan whispered into the darkness of the room. “Although I will forever deny the fact that I drool, thank you very much.”

Which, maybe the room wasn't actually dark, because Tommy still had his eyes closed.

He scrunched his face up, confused. “Was I talking out loud?” he asked.

“Mhm.” He could feel Evan's breath on his face. “Do you really love all that about me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you should open your eyes.”

That was an odd request. It all felt odd, actually. Because when he and Evan woke up together, Evan always had a hand on him somewhere. His chest, his arm, his back, running up and down his side. Somewhere. But this time Tommy felt nothing.

Well, not nothing, exactly. He felt damp, actually. He felt damp and sticky and hot. Hotter than usual, but cold at the same time?

“What?” He mumbled out, confused.

“I said you should open your eyes.”

“Wh- Why?”

“Tommy!” Evan's voice was louder now, like he had a megaphone to Tommy's ear. “Open your eyes!”

Tommy's head jerked up in surprise, wincing from the sound. “Mmm,” he groaned. His body hurt all over. He didn't remember feeling sick before he went to bed.

But the more he thought about it, he didn't really remember going to bed.

He blinked his eyes open slowly. They felt so dry and scratchy, almost like they had sand in them. When they finally focused he expected to see his clock to his left, the time shining back at him. Expected to have Evan beside him, or cooking some elaborate breakfast in the kitchen.

Expected to see sunlight shining from between his curtains.

Instead all he saw was rocks, mud, and leaves.

Did they go camping? He definitely didn't remember that. And why the hell wouldn't they at least have a tent?

“Ev- Evan?” God, talking hurt. Felt like his throat was on fire.

He was lying on his stomach, but there was no pillow under his head. There was something there though. Something shielding his head from the mud and rocks and twigs below it.

He reached up with the hand closest to his head, the one that didn't feel like it had its own pulse, and felt his head.

A helmet.

That's when it came rushing back to him.

Emergency.

All hands on deck.

Transport aircraft to nearby facility.

Bees?

Bees.

He'd been flying a helicopter to a nearby rendezvous point. Every fire department in the district would be there.

All to fight the bees.

Sounded downright insane to him at the time. I mean, they were bees. Weren't we supposed to be saving those?

It wasn't until his bird made direct contact with the swarm that he realized the severity of the problem.

Tommy carefully unbuckled his helmet, letting it drop off his head.

He tried to focus on all the things that hurt, although it probably would have been easier to take count of the places on his body that didn't hurt.

There was a cold, sticky substance on the back of his neck. Blood, he was sure. His right arm had to be broken. He couldn't seem to move it, but the thump thump thump feeling that came from it was impossible not to notice.

His back was jammed, but nothing felt broken there. He could wiggle his toes a little, but his left ankle was definitely sprained.

Something... something was poking his side.

It was hard to get in a good breath, hard to keep his eyes open, but he forced himself to roll over so he could check his side.

“God!” He exclaimed through panted breaths as he turned, eyes squeezed shut against the pain. He looked down at his side to see a branch, about as round as a nickel, maybe five or six inches long, sticking out. “Damn it,” he gasped out. His good hand shakily reached out to touch around the wound, where blood was seeping out in a slow but steady stream.

He didn't try to pull it out. He knew better than that. He had no idea how deep the branch was pierced inside him, and no clue what it might have punctured.

All he knew was that it hurt like hell.

And the whole situation was almost too much for his brain to take.

He had so many questions.

Most importantly, where the hell was the helicopter?

He must've fallen out of it before it crashed to the ground, wherever it crashed.

His energy was draining quickly. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and wait for sleep to take over. Wait for rescue, whenever it may come.

So, he let his eyes close. Let the pain begin to wash away. Let himself float until-

“I said open your damn eyes, Tommy!”

There was Evan's voice again, shouting at him so loudly.

Tommy's eyes jerked back open and the pain returned full force.

He couldn't stay here.

Couldn't let those damn, stupid ass bees win.

Couldn't imagine the embarrassment of people asking, “What happened? How'd he die?” and someone having to explain that it was bees! Sure, he survived war, but it was the bees that got him.

Hell no.

Plus, dying in general might not have meant much a few months ago.

But it meant a lot now.

Because now he had a boyfriend with abandonment issues, and he needed to get back to him.

So he pushed himself up to his knees, let a groan escape between his gritted teeth, and stood on his feet.

If he let out a yell or two, who needed to know?

And maybe this would be the point in therapy where his therapist would tell him you're worth surviving because you're a human being who deserves to live, not just because you're with someone. But screw that, because if Evan was the only thing that made him get out of this with his life, than that would have to be enough.

He was dizzy, it hurt to put pressure on his leg, there was more blood on his clothes than he cared to see, and he was pretty sure he'd also lost some hearing in his right ear.

He pressed his hand against the wound on his side the best he could without disturbing the branch. A whine escaped him and tears welled in his eyes. He'd been hurt before, been in pain before, but never like this. This was another level.

“Move,” he told himself, voice barely above a whisper. “Just move.”

So that's what he did. He began to walk, or limp, through the trees of wherever the hell he was in the hopes he was going in the right direction.

His body was cold, shivering even as sweat dripped down his face.

His teeth chattered and it felt like his insides were vibrating.

At one point he practically fell against a tree, barely kept upright by his legs that were getting weaker by the second.

He took a minute to breathe, nearly closed his eyes. But Evan's voice stopped him again.

So, he walked. He walked and he walked and then... and then he could smell something.

Not just something.

Fire.

And the world around him was fuzzier.

But it wasn't his eyes playing tricks. It was smoke.

The helicopter.

It had to be.

He picked up the pace. They might not have been able to find him, but maybe they had found-

“He's not here, Buckley.” God, Tommy hated that voice. “We'll put out a search for him but it's unlikely he survived this. Gotta face the facts, we lose people sometimes.”

“Whoa!” Another voice cut in. Sounded like Chimney. He liked that voice. “He's not worth it, Buck. We'll keep looking, okay? We'll keep looking.”

A few more steps and he could see them. Blurry, but there. He cleared his throat. “Look f- for who?”

At least thirty heads whipped in his direction.

“Oh my God, Tommy!” Now, that was a voice he loved.

He was surrounded in seconds, but Evan was first one there. The one to bring a hand to his back and cradle him as his body gave out. He was the one to help him to the ground while Chimney and Hen worked on his body, shouting things back and forth at one another.

A part of him wanted to close his eyes then, let them do their thing, but he didn't. He kept them open, and right on Evan, because that's what he'd want him to do.

*****

When Tommy woke up hours, or maybe days, later, it was in a hospital room. He wasn't exactly sure when he'd fallen asleep, or passed out, but it was clear that surgery had happened at some point. He'd blame the anesthesia, not all the trauma, for his loss of time.

Evan was in a chair beside him, holding onto his good hand, head resting by Tommy's thigh on the bed. Even in his sleep, he must've noticed something change with Tommy because he popped up quickly.

“Tommy,” he breathed out, and it looked like a year's worth of anxiety released in that breath. “H- Hi.”

Tommy managed a smile. “Hi.” His throat felt like sandpaper.

“Let me get you some ice.”

Tommy nearly pouted at the loss of Evan's touch, but he was back by Tommy's side in an instant, slipping a couple of ice chips into his mouth.

And oh my God did that ever feel good.

Evan's hand returned to Tommy's, and all felt right in the world again. He'd hear what all happened to him later. Didn't seem to care right now. He was alive, and he was with Evan, and he needed to tell him some things before he forgot them.

“You saved my life.”

Evan's eyebrows furrowed. “No, that was all you. We wouldn't have found you if you didn't find us first.”

Tommy pursed his lips together, shaking his head. “No,” he replied simply. “You.”

Evan smiled, held onto his hand a little tighter. Tommy knew what Evan was thinking. You're high as a kite right now and don't really know what you're talking about.

But that was the thing. His voice might be a little gravely, and his speech a bit slower than normal, but he never felt more clear-headed.

He needed Evan to know.

“Have I ever told you all the reasons I love you?”

Evan tilted his head, his smile growing even more. “No, I- I... I don't think you have.” There was that blush Tommy loved so much.

He took a deep breath. “Number one...”

[starswornoaths]

In Light of Day

Follow-up for In Shade of Moonlight I had thought lost to the ether years ago (although if you want to read this whole scene from start to finish, Something Like Home is the start of the evening referenced in the fic, followed by First Steps and then In Shade of Moonlight but god. I haven't gone back to edit them please lower your expectations they're old.) Once I found it, I couldn't stop picking at it until I eventually had to just post it already. Hopefully I'll get more of what I've already written posted at some point.

Post 3.3, pre-3.4, it's the morning after the festivities. While there is no hangover to be found in Borel Manor, yearning that spilled over in the moonlight is now examined and re-examined in the light of day. Duty and Devotion are inextricably tied, yet where one can so often subsume the other, other times either may be consumed.

Word count: 4,400

~*~

Serella was relieved to find the sun was rising to greet her the second time she opened her eyes that morning. As mind and body reconnected, she found herself bundled into blankets beside another warm body and comfortably in bed rather than flung to the floor in her sleep. She took in the sight of a barely-familiar room and the faint creak of howling winds pressing an old house, and she knew with immediate and delightful certainty that the previous night hadn’t been a dream.

More pleasant still was the weight of Aymeric’s arm slung over the curve of her hip.

Truly, it was always the small mercies that kept Serella aloft.

With great care so as to avoid waking him, she negotiated the slide of his arm to drape across her back, that she might turn to watch him sleep. There was no force strong enough to stop her from smiling as she took in the sight.

Bereft of the waking world’s worries to weigh on him, his features were slack with rest and smudged into the pillow without care. Once removed from the mantle of his station and free of the pinch in his brow, he almost looked like a different person entirely. In a kinder world, he might know this feeling even when awake—but then, so would she.

Her hand itched with the want to run her fingers through his silken curls, strewn wildly all over and haloed in the morning light. He looked so utterly endearing to her in that moment, with an almost boyish pout pushed into his full lips by the pillow he burrowed into.

Serella felt her heart squeeze. Two things occurred to her in that moment, one right after the next: that she had never seen Aymeric so utterly unburdened and unreachable to the rest of the world, and she wanted to do all in her power to make more moments like these, if only to hoard for herself like a dragon.

Assuming such a thing would even be welcome.

If last night had been a fairy tale, this morning was the stumble out of the fairy’s circle. The moment where everything became real again, and the world was sustainably imperfect.

Still asleep, Aymeric shifted such that his other hand knocked into hers in the scant space between them. Even in dreams, the touch was enough to curl his lips in an unguarded smile he half smothered into his pillow, fingers flexing for a fleeting, blind search of her.

But time was liable to take notice of Serella if she further entangled them. If not time, then certainly duty or any number of things that would rip her from this peace. Rather than risk it, she gathered the pillow beneath her in a white-knuckled fist. As she watched the gilded fingers of dawn blindly fumble for the shape of them through the parted curtain, she prayed the city—the realm—would forget them a little while longer.

In this liminal space between what she had dared to want and what was real, scars from flesh to marrow and deeper still threatened her with their phantom pains. Muscles in need of stretching burned, and the chill in the air threatened to make every joint ache the second she left the blankets. Bones creaked in protest after being still for so long in sleep when she tried to address those aches that howled first. For several long moments, her body was caught in its own space between thrumming soreness from stillness and lancing ache from movement, waiting for the worst of both to ease.

And from below the monotonous agony, a long-standing anxiety welled up from the pit of her rib cage to form a roiling bubble of intrusive thoughts that pressed at her throat. The what-ifs began to whisper in her ears again. Despite her best efforts, what had been muffled to a distant buzz in the previous eve’s heady rush was given crystalline clarity in light of day.

For her heart was but a muscle, and it ached like all the rest.

Such worry always came on the heels of vulnerability. Of course it did; fear was an old and familiar stalagmite that had gradually emerged from the pit in her stomach through years of buried feeling being left to itself. Crystallized and jagged monument of unaddressed pain that it was, its sharpest and highest facets had long since lodged themselves in the spaces between her ribs. To dislodge even a piece of it, something inside of her would surely have to break. The morning light bounced off its raw facets in her mind’s eye, sending her vision swimming with spots until she realized its true source was the thinning of her own breath.

To persevere in silence would be to welcome the press of a blade to her heart, trusting that it would not be run through—and oh, how Serella had bled in the past.

It wasn’t as though the fear was unfounded, even knowing Aymeric to be a good man; blunt though the instrument be, duty could well be what he might wield to beat all they were back to the shadows. Worse—it could well be his expectation that she was of like mind.

Surely not—surely not. And yet…

If Serella had been wrong to let herself be vulnerable, to want—if she had guessed wrong again—

Scratching at the door ripped her from her spiral so suddenly that she nearly jumped. No doubt it was Duchess, whom she heard rumbling from the depths of the manor last night.

A more insistent scratch came as if in answer. Serella strongly suspected such a temperamental old thing would start to yowl if her demands weren’t answered in a timely fashion.

She knew the type.

Peering back at Aymeric, who seemed yet unperturbed by the sound, she found even the thought of waking him to border on criminal—and he doubtless would once Duchess kicked up enough of a fuss.

The lady of the house needed feeding, and Serella was already up. No sense in robbing him of what little extra sleep he could find, after all. Not when her anxieties were so chatty this morn as to already rob her of it.

Decision made, she eased herself from the loose tangle of limbs and tucked the covers around him as he continued to doze. When he pawed at the empty space left by her absence, she compensated him with her pillow. Once freed of darling and duvet both, she slid from the bed entirely with immense care and only minimal popping sounds from her joints as she ambled over toward the door.

Sure enough, Serella was met with the lady of the house peering up at her once she’d eased the door open. More fur than feline, she sat at the doorway like a prim little tumbleweed with indignant green eyes, all dense fur patterned with beautiful mottled browns and brushed to its utmost fluffiness.

“Good morning.” She greeted, slipping out into the hall and twisting the doorknob to soften its closing behind her. “Breakfast?”

Mrr, Duchess rumbled in assent. Serella felt it in the floorboards.

“Well go on, then,” she said with a gesture to the hall, “I know you know where it is.”

With a thump of her tail and a wheezy huff, the acting Viscountess trotted off down the stairs. Her house guest followed gamely, hopeful that she behaved as most cats would and make a dash for her food at the promise of being served.

Blessedly, Duchess was no different: with a startling amount of speed for her apparent age, she made a beeline down the stairs and around the bend to a specific cabinet in the kitchen just beside the pantry. Once sat primly before the little door, she began to paw at a worn patch of scratches at its bottom corner and look up expectantly with the widest, roundest eyes that she could and the softest trill she had managed thus far.

Oh, this was manipulation if ever she’d seen it, doubtless perfected over eight lifetimes’ worth of practice on family and guests. Must have the same teacher as her owner, Serella mused to herself.

After a brief scan to find her feeding bowl—full but for the emptied center of the dish, of course—Serella was soon scooping an appropriate amount of food for the lady.

“Your breakfast, madam!” She said, presenting the bowl in a with a flourish.

Duchess sniffed up at her, nearly thankful, before promptly burying her face in the kibble and paying her guest no further mind.

“You yet possess your hand.” Aymeric’s amused voice drifted in from behind her.

Startled, Serella spun to face him with eyes wide and hands held up to her heart as if she had been caught doing something wrong. It was effortless to find her ease when she saw him leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed and a sleepy smile on his face.

“Of all your accomplishments, that may well be among the most impressive,” he teased with a chuckle, “not even I have managed unscathed every time.”

“I’ll count that as a personal victory, then.” She said, at a loss as to what else to say.

Though she wore a set of his pajamas, she might as well have not changed from her gown last night for how reverently he looked at her. Even at barely seven bells in the morning and doubtless with a bird’s nest in her hair he still looked at her as though she were spun from starlight and woven in his dreams.

Her gaze shied from his, all at once overwrought with raw and tender ache.

“I’d hoped to avoid waking you,” she explained as if she were trying to get out of trouble.

Which was silly, she knew. She’d only fed his cat.

“Seems my stealth could do with a bit of work, though,” she added with a lame gesture between them.

She wasn’t even sure it was meant to be a joke, but he offered her a huff of laughter all the same.

“In truth, your absence woke me more than you leaving,” he admitted, his smile turning bashful when his gaze demurred as he added, “though the decoy was almost as charming as hearing you through the door.”

His ears flushed a faint pink when he glanced back at her and explained, “I reached for you—and when you were not there, it alarmed me.”

Not entirely unreasonable—she had flung herself off the bed in the middle of the night. He’s gracious enough not to mention it.

“I would have otherwise been tempted to lounge with you all day,” she mumbled, and felt near feverish for how hot her face burned at the admittance, “if I thought we could get away with it, at least.”

It seemed to please Aymeric greatly, however; as his smile grew wide enough for his eyes to crinkle at the corners as he looked at her in full again. As if that helped him decide something, he pushed off the doorway and moved closer with steps merry yet unhurried.

Serella still startled when he stopped within arm’s reach. He could have already made contact with her, yet he hesitated, as if wondering what she would do.

Nothing. She did nothing, save for white knuckle the counter behind her with the want to.

She wasn’t surprised at her struggle with letting that last wall between them fall, not after a year or so of skirting around one another. Not with her thoughts swarming her head like an agitated hive. Understanding it did not ease her lamentations. Did not quiet the buzzing.

“That may yet be arranged,” he murmured, unaware of her struggle.

His hand drifted to skim the thin shirt sleeve she wore with his knuckles, his expression almost shy. At no point on its dutiful march down her sleeve did his hand make contact with her. She felt the comet’s trail of his warmth all the same.

It wasn’t until the tip of his finger hooked on the cuff of her sleeve in a vague pantomime of holding her hand that she realized she had let go of the counter behind her. Startled, she looked up at him with a thin gasp to find him already peering at her through his lashes.

Holding her gaze steadily, he asked, “...If it should please you?”

It’s too early to be this sweet, she huffed at him in her mind.

She shivered despite the warmth of his knuckles against hers when his hand drifted those few ilms lower. Under his attention, her heart felt both deeply tender and fit to burst.

“It would.” Serella said softly, though refrained from giving in to the temptation to unmake the scant distance between them entirely.

Last night had been…perfect. Beyond perfect. Sharing their hearts, even an onze, even for a moment, had been more than she had ever dared hope for. In the light of day, where the dream was over and yet they still remained, she could hardly contain the affection she’d withheld for so long. Just the effort of it made her skin burn.

And yet…

That sharp, anticipatory pain in her heart where the blade could well find its purchase seized her bodily in that moment. The fault lines where it would break from such piercing groaned in warning.

Aymeric seemed to sense her hesitation, as he dropped her sleeve and moved a few ilms away. The hollow space where she had meant to lace their fingers together howled yet she could not force herself to move before at least this fear could be exorcised. She had no more room to bury it, and it would not help her exhume the rest.

“I,” she tried to croak though the words tangled in a lump in her throat.

Swallowing it, she tried again, “I don’t…I don’t know what you hope for us to be.”

At that, Aymeric stilled with a short yet shuddered intake of breath. Even his aether seemed to recoil in response but what startled Serella most was that for all the emotions that rippled along the surface of his heart, surprise was not among them.

The tangle of feelings radiating off of him was familiar—too familiar; not for the first time, she had nearly missed it for how similarly his struggle had mirrored her own. That tense anticipation for pain, the pre-emptive flinch before impact, she could feel every twitch that spoke of routine. The morbid vindication of ah, and there it is, to greet disaster after awaiting it for so long.

Expectant rather than dreading. Because this had happened to him before, she remembered.

In the few seconds it had taken her to make the connection, he had thinned his breathing, as if to make himself as scarce and unobtrusive as he could in this moment. Already, his body language began to shape itself in the familiar form of an apology, starting with the inward flinch of his shoulders.

Even blind, she would feel the way his aether roiled and his stomach dropped out from under him. Sensitive to it all as her Blessing had made her, it was impossible not to know the waves of his emotions as they crashed into her.

In a grim way, it was reassuring: he was just as much of a nervous mess as she.

Suddenly desperate to soothe it out of both of them, she took his hand and chose to be brave.

Body and soul, that surprised Aymeric. He could not catch his expression ere it crossed his face.

“I want to be with you.” she said—and though the words felt strange, like tasting an old secret on her tongue, she relished in the relief at saying them.

The breath left him as though he were struck, even as he beamed at her. As if given permission to breathe again, his chest rose with the slow, relieved inhale that left him in a sigh so deep as to sag his posture.

“Serendipity itself,” he said on the tapered end of his exhale, more air than words.

His hand was gentle when it brought hers to his lips. His warmth splashed across her knuckles in soft breaths as he kissed them once, twice, thrice in reverence.

“I want much the same—it feels at least a lifetime that I have yearned,” he admitted against her skin, peering at her through fanned lashes and a deep flush.

Relief and happiness crushed her heart from all sides at his words, enough that for a moment the swarm in her head scattered in dissaray. How could such an otherwise even toned and collected man have such infectious joy? The nerve of him. The unmitigated gall.

Turning her hand within his hold she instead curled it to cup his cheek. When he leaned into the touch and eclipsed her hand with his own, his lips sought her palm as though they were made solely to kiss it.

Her thumb traced the angle of his cheekbone as she struggled to find the words to say to help him understand. His thumb idly mirrored her movements, blindly pacing the length of a scar on her thumb he had come across as if in a trance as his lashes fluttered.

Seconds passed in the sort of sunlit slowness that moved like honey on a spoon, but Aymeric was eventually stirred to shift within her hold and face her fully. All syrup-slowness, his lashes lifted to let him regard her at length.

“You have concerns,” he said at last, his eyes still searching hers.

“Only one.” Serella answered, relieved and horrified all at once for his perceptive nature.

“I imagine you will find more in time, yet if there is only the one for now, then I would hear it.” he said, and let her hand slip from under his when she pulled it away. “I would help you find your ease.”

Words swam in her head, only forming coherent sentences at certain angles through the muck of her fears.

“I don’t…need any grand gestures. Nothing…announced.” Serella fumbled to explain, the words clumsy and anxious. “And I don’t want any of that—gods, it makes me anxious just to think of—“

“You are not one for ceremony.” Aymeric agreed, smiling.

Serella nodded. Wetting her lips, she tried to persevere, saying, “And—and I know there will be times where professionalism is more important. For both of us, really. I would want that distinction regardless, lest we be accused of corrupting one another’s stations.”

It was his turn to nod. “I agree,” he said.

“But that—” she cut herself off with a wince, bracing for the fall with a deep, steady inhale as she said in a rush, “that doesn’t mean I would be content to be hidden.”

“…Hidden?” Aymeric asked, and it was obvious he was taken aback for the way he almost physically jumped at the thought.

“I only mean—“ Realizing she was wording it poorly, she flustered. “I—I’m not really making myself clear, am I?”

“You are—I am merely struggling to see.” He reassured her.

With a tilt of his head, he asked, “Help me understand? How—why in the name of the Fury would I hide you?”

“It’s just…we’ve fought so hard for so long to reveal the Holy See’s secrets—both small and large.” she began slowly.

“A victory that has cost us much.” he agreed in a soft murmur.

“And…I don’t know if your station allows you to have room for me—but—”

Wetting her lips, she finally sighed and said, “for how hard we fought for the truth of the Theocracy, I would not want us to be the Republic’s first secret.”

Realization dawned on his face for the briefest moments before melting away into relief.

“Ah,” he sighed, gently, before asking, “is that what it was?”

When Serella looked at him again, his smile was impossibly soft.

“Aye,” she said, posture slumping over as the last of a sigh left her, “that’s it. My one concern.”

“Certainly a valid one, but permit me put it to rest.” Aymeric said, reaching for her again.

The first brush of his fingers on her face was enough for the tension in her shoulders to snap with such a force she almost felt lightheaded. Her head fell into his palm like the architecture of him was made to hold her.

He waited until she met his gaze before speaking again.

“There is naught preventing me from being with you, so long as we both wish for it.” Aymeric said, his hand soft as it stroked the apple of her cheek. “Nor would I ever wish to hide—I do not even think I could. Not after,” he flushed clear to the tips of his ears as he finished the sentence in an almost mumble, “not after so long pretending. I could not go back.”

She flushed in kind and resisted the urge to hide her face in his hand. Or his chest. Or the countertop. How many times would she be made to damn his earnest nature before noon? Before the sennight was over? Before the world ended?

May it happen enough that I lose count, Serella prayed.

“Well, then,” she said around a hum, “consider my concern addressed.”

“Good.”

He smiled, though the relief that rippled through him felt tentative to Serella.

“Do you have concerns?” she asked with a tilt of her head and an arch of her brow. “Since we’re clearing things up now—which, by the way, an important start to things, I should think.”

“...Only—only one for myself as well,” he said slowly, all the ease that had found him leaving in fits and starts.

As if wandering, his hand drifted to her hair and began to twirl a lock of it loosely around his finger. His gaze focused on his fidgeting.

He only did that when he was uncomfortable with what he was going to say next, she noted to herself; it was the only time he would ever look away from the person he was speaking with.

“I had not thought to address it—I presumed it was taken as given, but—“

“Better to say it,” Serella said. “Whatever it may be.”

“You have the right of it.” Aymeric agreed, even as he seemed almost reluctant. Still, his tone was even, almost detached, as he explained, “I would never want you to enter a courtship with me bearing—“

“Relationship.” she said.

When he looked at her in surprise, she added, “If you feel the need to court me to make up for lost time, I certainly won’t object, but I’d argue the past year or so has been exactly that. More or less.”

“…Relationship, then.” He said, and for all his trepidation, that seemed to please him greatly. “With perhaps some courtly romance for lost time.”

Though the troubled expression hadn’t fully left his face, even the thought of their bond had let joy rally in the corners of his lips. The melancholy almost immediately regained its dominance as he slowly continued, “I would not want you to agree to such a relationship bearing any misconceptions as to my…dedication.”

“...I don’t follow.” Serella admitted with a shake of her head.

“Pray do not misunderstand,” he pleaded, and she felt his anxiety in her throat. “I would never do aught without consent—“

“I know,” she reassured him. “I trust you.”

“That does not mean, however,” he spoke like it tortured him to do so as he said, “that I could always prioritize you over aught else. If at all, really.”

“Hmm?” She arched a brow—not offended, but still not entirely sure what he meant.

He must have taken her confusion as offense, because he spoke with just a tinge of desperation, as if frantic to articulate, “For however deep my feelings for you might run—so long as I hold even one office—” he winced before continuing, “—never mind two, I cannot hold you above my duties to Ishgard.”

As she thought. She resisted the urge to laugh, knowing how upset he was and how that would look. He had little and less to worry about in that regard—or at least, just as much to worry about as she did, which all evened out in the wash so far as she was concerned.

“Even were I not an officer of the Maelstrom,” she began, searching for the words, “as the Warrior of Light, I have to ask you much the same: can you feel comfortable, knowing I must put not only the needs of Limsa Lominsa but also the realm over you? That I most often must answer to a title before I can answer to my name?”

Aymeric blinked owlishly at her, and then she did laugh at his incredulous expression; clearly he had been so caught up in his own fears he had not perceived aught beyond them.

The sweet fool, she thought with infinite fondness.

“I can,” he said, almost excitedly.

“Then promise me,” she said, moving to lay a hand over his heart. “That you’ll never prioritize me over Ishgard and Her interests.”

“I swear it,” he said.

With a huff of relieved laughter he kissed her forehead.

His eyes were alight with relief and crinkled at the corners with his smile when he spoke again, “promise me in kind that you will never place me above the realm.”

“I would never,” she said—and spoke true.

As if her words dispelled his every trepidation, he smiled in that way that felt like the first rays of sunshine after endless rain.

“Any other concerns?” She asked, her grin returning in the wake of her relief. “Any at all?”

“None,” he responded, at last crossing those last few ilms of distance and curling his arms around her. She met him readily, hands smoothing away the singular cowlick in his hair. “None whatsoever.”

“So it’s us, then?” she asked, both for clarity and because she would never tire of hearing it. “For as long as we want?”

“Please,” he breathed, barely getting the word out before Serella discovered her new favorite feeling: his laughter, humming gently against her lips.

[hexgaywire]

"Wedding (Photographer) Crasher"

Hex Haywire × Reader Wedding Photographer AU

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Rating: Explicit

Gender: Gender neutral until Smut hits, then it's Female (you can still read it but during smut reader has a vag sorry 🧍🏻‍♂️)

Warnings: OOC Hex, Swearing, implied mentions of stalking (but not really), drinking, unprotected seggs, biting mentions, other then that it's pretty vanilla, slow burn 🗣️, happy ending 🫰

Word count: 9,364 (JESUS)

Guide to read this: "chapter will be separated with a "-" and a gap. Smut will not be marked so please be warned.

A/N: Ladies, gentleman, theys, WE FUCKING DID IT. It's a long read but honestly, and I'm biased, a good read. Thank you to @mystaposts for giving me ideas and input and genuinely letting me keep track of my progress while I write. Love you mwah. I genuinely have never written something this long and it's been a journey. I've also never written and AU this obscure before. I started this on vacation and then finished it a month after I got back LMFAO. Anyway please enjoy!

You can also read this on AO3 if you prefer that format better here

»»————-　☾　————-««

It's your friend's wedding, you're a photographer, she's having a destination wedding; how could you say no! You arrived in Mexico, struggled through customs with your broken Spanish and got to your hotel with nothing but coffee and sheer willpower alone. You text the wedding coordinator and she tells you you'll be meeting with her and the... other photographer ,which you are just NOW finding out about, at the venue to set up. You've shot weddings before; loads of times actually, it's actually one of your favorite events to photograph. You don't work for a company for a reason, you hate other people ruining your creative vision, plus once you're in the zone you hate being interrupted. Your friend left that detail out that you'd be working with.. another photographer.

You take a deep sigh, you really can't complain. It's her wedding day, you got free accommodations in exchange for taking some photos. You really can't complain. The hotel was gorgeous. It had a nice view of the city despite only being on the 3rd floor. You change and pack a bag full of all the equipment you don't wanna be taking to the venue the actual day of the ceremony and a few tripods and head off to go meet this mystery photographer you'll be working with for the weekend.

Lucky for you the venue was only a short stroll away from your accommodations. The venue vastly understated on how gorgeous it was, decked out in beautiful flowers and extravagant decor which went beautifully with the Spanish inspired build of the place, it had two staircases and a little inside balcony overlooking the venue (perfect place to shoot) which eventually led out to a huge outside balcony looking over the ocean. You pause to wonder how much this must've cost but quickly forget about it when another man walks in looking just as in awe as you probably did. He was tall, dressed in all black, messy steel colored hair, some black dispersed in different parts of his hair and the most gorgeous green eyes that peered out at you over a pair of glasses. He stares at you and before he can open his mouth the wedding coordinator runs in.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, there was a cake mishap, it's all handled now but let me tell you I'm-" she pauses and clears her throat. "Apologizes... I see you two have at least seen each other. Y/N, Hex Haywire. Hex, This is Y/N." You glance at Hex again as he glances back at you. "I thought I'd be working alone." You respond flatly. Hex scoffs. " Me too, I wasn't told I'd be working with a rookie." Your jaw must drop to the floor because Hex gives a sly smile. "I'm a friend of the bride thank you, and also own my own photography business." You grit your teeth. "Friend of the groom. Also own my own business." He shrugs and produces a business card from his pocket holding it to your face. You roll your eyes and before you quip back on a 'my dick is bigger than your dick' contest the coordinator jumps into the conversation.

"Ehm let's get back to discussing when I'll need you." She glares at you. "Both of you." She continues. "Tomorrow we need you here early to take photos of the finished venue. There are still a lot of little details we have to get done tonight and tomorrow morning but regardless it should be more flushed out tomorrow. After that the bride and groom will get ready and respectively you'll be taking photos of the getting ready process. Then the first look both the bride and groom specifically asked for to get photographed so please be on your A game for that. Then the ceremony takes place, you'll be taking photos there during the ceremony as well as the after party. The bride also requested before the ceremony so you can take photos of the family, all the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Do you understand what's being asked of you?" The both of you nod. " Great! Feel free to get familiar with the venue, discuss how you'll be conducting the process... Civilly… please… ." The coordinator sighs before setting off to continue her duties.

You sigh, setting some of your equipment in the corner. Grabbing your camera from your bag you glance around to figure out where you're going first. Hex follows suit and the two of you stare at each for a moment. What the fuck was the bride thinking. This guy is a total dick, sure you don't know him but the vibe he gives off.. you can't quite place it but you just wanna rub his face in the dirt. So you resort to something a bit more sinister. Lying. "Honestly I don't know what the bride was thinking about getting both of us, I can handle all of this by myself. I don't work with other photographers because it makes the editing process so much worse because you walk into my shot and I have to Photoshop you out-" " I won't, I'm not an idiot." He cuts in. " I don't like other people fucking with my business either." He folds his arms. "If anyone is getting in anyone's shit it's gonna be you for sure Rookie." He states flatly before turning heel to go scout the venue. You glare and consider lying and telling your friend your flight got canceled. But you're in too deep, and she bought your flight… you're not getting out of this one easily.

"Aren't you gonna survey the area?" Hex calls down from the inside balcony. "What is your problem? I went to school for photography and have a degree. I'm not a rookie, and I'd advise you to keep your remarks to yourself." You call up before grabbing your camera from your bag to take some test shots. “Whatever you say, Rookie." Hex scoffs and before you can retort you find a good spot to test shot. You can't let some dude get in the way of your work.

-

A few hours pass, and you think you've mapped out a pattern that'll work best. You also found spots where photographers definitely had their tripods so you had a location for those as well. Hex has also been working diligently. He may be a dick but he's a dick who knows what he's doing at least. You can give credit where it's due even if you aren't thrilled about it. He seems to have also made peace with where he is gonna shoot. The two of you both head back to the equipment you set out and The coordinator meets you both outside on your way out. "I'll see you both here tomorrow morning! Thank you for your cooperation." You smile and begin your trek back to the hotel... But Hex is following you.

You knew it he had to be a fucking weirdo or something. After a couple minutes where it's no longer deemed a coincidence you turn around. " Do you have a fucking problem? " You ask sharply. " He looks a little taken back. "Sorry?" He looks around. "Are you talking to me?" You sigh exasperated. "Yes you, you're following and have been for the last several minutes. I knew something was off about you stalker." He laughs, your frown deepens. " This isn't funny, I don't know you and the fact that you're tailing the competition is honestly a little fucked." " What hotel are you staying at? " He asks. " I'm not telling you that. Again I don't know if you're following me or no-" " You're an actual idiot you know that? The bride and groom probably put us in the same hotel. You got your room and flight paid for by them right? " He asks with a sly smile. You wanna crawl into a hole and die. " Yep. No, that makes sense. I'm sorry I... Competition makes me kinda nasty. That was a strong accusation I was making." You laugh uncomfortably. He walks past you. "Whatever rookie. See you tomorrow. Try not to wake up late and miss work." As he walks close to the hotel and turns into the lobby you grone to yourself. You really are an idiot.

You enter the hotel, but the growl of your stomach stops you before you can even make it to the elevator. Maybe getting dinner at the hotel's restaurant isn't such a bad idea, you didn't really have time to scope out restaurants before leaving so the hotel one seemed like the safest bet . You turn to enter the restaurant adjacent to the lobby. It's a Friday night... It's fucking slammed. All the tables full wait staff looked flustered and overwhelmed. Regardless, you walk up to the host stand. "Excuse me, how long is the wait for a table for one." The host looks through a computer system on the stand. "Probably about an hour, possibly more…. though if you'd like to sit at the bar I can seat you immediately!" She responds. You shrug, it's not like you're eating with someone anyway. "That's fine, I'll take the bar seat thank you." You smile and she leads you over to almost an empty bar.

The bartender serves a few drinks and finally makes it over to you and asks what you want. You shouldn't have to be up tomorrow. "I'll take a glass of Chardonnay and..." you look down at the appetizers. "Just a side salad if you can get me that." He smiles and goes off to retrieve your items. You sigh, putting your face into your hands. You can't believe you accidentally accused your temporary coworker of stalking you and implying he'd do something to sabotage you… You groan, though it's definitely muffled by your hands.

As you stue in your misery someone sits down next to you. "Tequila shots..." The man's deep voice pauses for a second. “Two please." Your head shoots up, you know that voice. Hex tosses a sideways smirk. "You'll take a shot with me won't you rookie?" Not wanting to be rude you nod. "I thought you went up." You said softly. "I was gonna get something to eat but I saw some sad person at the bar. Had to do a welfare check." He shrugs. You snort. "I'm not sad. Just tired today has been a journey." "You must be a rookie then, can't handle a of day surveying." You roll your eyes at his remark. "Maybe it's the person I was with that made it exhausting. Has anyone ever told you, you're kinda insufferable." He laughs. "Once or twice. The bartender comes back with your drinks and food. Hex holds up his shot to yours. “Cheers."

You and Hex talk for a long time and drink a little more than you should.... Or at least you do. You feel that familiar buzz in your body as you focus on what Hex is talking about. "Anyway long story short it's kind of the groom's fault I got into photography in the first place." He's a lot more chill when he isn't in a work environment, still pretentious but the way he holds himself in a conversation is almost attractive, in fact all of him is rather attractive. You won't deny you've been sneaking glances at him all night. "Life throws stuff at you fast and it's up to you how you choose to deal with it." He smiles at you and you instinctively look away. He chuckles slightly but doesn't comment on your sudden shyness thankfully.

"So do you just do wedding photography?" You shake your head. " Nah I got a degree remember, I do headshots, family portraits, pretty much everything.... Though my dream is to travel around the world and do photography. After the wedding I wanna spend a few days here traveling around taking photos of the scenery." You respond dreamily. "You've got some strong ambition. I admire that. I'm kind of in the same boat, but primarily I do weddings." His face softens a little. "I think there's something beautiful about capturing such a precious moment between two people so in love they devote their lives to each other." You nod in agreement. "There is something definitely magical about it all. Though I wouldn't take you for much of a romantic Hex.” He shakes his head chuckling. " Can you blame me? I'm a guy with layers! I'm allowed to be a hopeless romantic aren't I?” You shrug, you honestly can't blame him.

Another glass of wine is ordered and in your head alarm bells are going off. You've been talking with Hex all night, but now there's a lull in the conversation as you look out over the now near empty restaurant you realize how late it actually is.

"Have you ever been in love?" He asks suddenly, so suddenly you almost spit out your drink. "It's a little personal to ask your temporary coworker, don't you think?" You joke. He's silent. You chuckle awkwardly before going back to nurse your final drink. You don't know if there is alcohol or something in the air but the words start tumbling out of your mouth. "I have, I think. But only once. I.... Uh met him my junior year of highschool, we instantly clicked; Only problem is he lived across the country. Told me he didn't want anything serious when I eventually cracked and confessed in college. It crushed me for a while but eventually I got over it." You muse swirling your finger around the edge of your now empty wine glass. " After that I've been kind of lukewarm about dating, I miss it though.... dating I mean.... Having a crush, feeling your stomach erupt in butterflies. I'm not the kind of person people fall in love with I guess." So respond dejectedly. A bitter feeling swells in your stomach and your eyes gloss over for a second.

Hex opens his mouth to say something but you shut him down before he can. "What about you, ever been in love?" You ask quickly. " If I answered honestly, you have to too." You add. He sighs. "I have. Many times actually, guess it's the hopeless romantic thing. Nothing's ever really worked out though." He looks over at you with a small sympathetic smile. "Love might not be for me either."

"It's a shame. All that handsomeness is going to waste." You blurt out nonchalantly before you can even process the words coming out of your mouth. Too many glasses of wine for sure. His eyebrows shoot up, you can feel the heat rise to your face. You must be drunk there, no way those words came out of your mouth. "You think I'm handsome huh?" He smirks. Annnnd the pretentiousness is back. "I need a lawyer present before I utter anything else." You mumble embarrassed. He stares at you smugly as you fidget in your bar stool. "I uh think it's time for bed. It's definitely way late. We both have to be up early anyway so uhh goodnight." You push yourself out of the bar table and immediately the alcohol hits you hard and fast. You feel your body fall.

You expect to hit the ground, you squeeze your eyes closed and brace yourself. But you don't hit the ground. Instead Hex leaps up and catches you before you hit the ground. His chest is a lot more toned than you thought, his arms are strong around you and he's warm. You look up and he looks down at you. "You okay?" Your mouth opens and closes like a fish. You push him away and nod quickly. "Completely fine. Uh Thank you. I'll uh see you tomorrow!” You retreat with your tail between your legs mentally slapping yourself for speaking too much and drinking too much.

Arriving back to your room you shower and change. You do your skin care routine and brush your teeth. You can't believe you'd be an absolute nightmare like that. All you can do is go to bed and replay the scene in your head over and over.

-

You almost pass Hex in the lobby, you can't tell if you were subconscious trying to block him out or you were just nervous about the job but he grabs your arm and yanks you back with a smile. "Morning Rookie." You groan. "Morning…" Hex releases your arm and hands you a coffee. “You had a rough night I'm sure, I figured I'd extend an olive branch with this.” You stare at it for a moment, a mere delayed sleepy reaction, before taking it. "Thanks." You say take a sip cautiously. "I didn't poison you, if that's what you're worried about." He jokes. "That's exactly what someone who totally poisoned me would say." You laugh. He shakes his head with a chuckle. " Let's get moving, yeah? Big day today." He states playfully nudging your arm before adjusting his backpack holding the equipment. Your heart does a weird tug in your chest at the contact. You both exit the lobby and begin your walk to the venue.

You awake the next morning with a killer headache and for a brief moment before taking an ibuprofen, you forgot about the events of last night. It wasn't until halfway through your morning shower, when you were finally awake and no longer operating on autopilot, that all the events of last night came rushing back to you. You grumble to yourself how stupid that was, no longer needing to apply blush as you put on your makeup.

As you prepare your heavier equipment and get ready you soon remember that you're in fact actually shooting with the man you drunkenly fell all over last night…. Fuck… You shake off your nerves and head down stairs.

As you approach the venue you exchange small talk with Hex. Neither of you bring up what happened last night. As much as it bothers you, it also spares you the embarrassment of having to relive those events. You hate to admit it but you actually think Hex is a decent guy. Of course you'd never admit that to him, especially on the way to a work event where you know things will get dicey. For now you just enjoy sneaking glances at him while the two of you chat.

You didn't think the venue could look any more beautiful than it did yesterday, but man were you wrong. Orange, yellow and pink flowers scattered around various parts of the venue. Fairy lights line the aisle with petals already pre-scattered on the ground. The look on your face must've given it away how breathtaking it was to you because you hear Hex snicker. "What!? It's gorgeous... You can't deny that either." You frown, folding your arms. "It is. Your face just lit up like a Christmas tree, I dunno it was just… endearing I guess..." He clears his throat. "Anyway, we have a job to do. I have my spots picked out and I would hope you do too." You nod. "Perfect. We'll check in with the coordinator after we're done." You nod again as he turns to leave. "Yeah yeah. See you in a bit.... Hexy." You smirk. He whips back around and raises an eyebrow. "Hexy?" "What, the tall booding eboy never got a cute nickname before? Besides you call me 'rookie', I think it's fair we're even on playing fields." You flip your hair before grabbing your equipment and heading to your first shooting location.

While taking your final photos at the flower arch, the bride and groom arrive with their respective groups to get ready. You hear your friend audibly gasp as she enters the venue, you could pick her voice out in a police lineup for sure. You take a few more photos and meet up with her. "Hey you! Thank you again for doing this. I hope this hasn't been too um… annoying you." She flashes you a sympathetic smile. "Eh I've managed but we definitely are having a serious talk about keeping 'surprises' from me when you get home from your honeymoon." She erupts in laughter. " Fine fine. My fiance insisted on Hex and I insisted on you; so we came to a compromise." She sighs. "I hope the two of you are getting along at least. I've met Hex a handful of times and he seems like a nice guy." She nudges you. "He is. A bit pretentious but in an insufferably charming way... I guess." She smirks. " Charming huh? He is pretty cute." You roll your eyes. "Girl you're about to get married you can't be saying stuff like that." She laughs again as you jokingly smack her hand chastising her.

"Did I hear married? If so, not yet still a couple hours to go." The groom jokes as he approaches the two of you. Hex and the coordinator in tow right behind him. "There you are, I was just about to come find you." Your friend kisses her fiance. "It's nice to see you again Hex, I'm sure you've already been thanked but I'll do it again; thank you for doing this." Hex hums. "Not a problem. I'm just happy to capture the magic for the two of you." "Hex has already shown me some of the shots he's taken of the venue unedited and they're gorgeous. I'm excited for you to see them once they're all edited." The corridentor chimes in. "Now then, your makeup artist has arrived as well as your dress, so why don't you and Y/N head off to go get ready." You nod. "I'll see you in a bit, honey." Her fiance calls out as the two of you walk off to the dressing rooms.

The two of you talk as her and her bridesmaids get ready, you snap candied moments, which is after all what you're here to do. Somehow you get roped into the conversation that happened last night. "I don't know, I'm not saying I wouldn't be opposed...to be caught in his arms again. If only he wasn't such a prick you know?" You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your friend laughs. "You always enjoyed a little bit of challenge though. Remember that asshole you dated right out of college?" "Ugh don't remind me. He was a real piece of work, we fought all the time but.... The sex was amazing and I think the only thing that kept us together for so long." You shake your head. "I guess I do have a type then. Men who get on my nerves." " Hon you definitely do, I'm glad I'm able to play therapist on my wedding day." She laughs.

The makeup artist steps back and you finally get the shot of your friend seeing herself for the first time. Tears well in her eyes. Click. You snap a photo. Just before the makeup artist chastises her. " Cry once you're down the aisle at least!" Your friend sniffles and smiles. Click. She turns around and all the bridesmaids and her mother ooo and awe at her. Her mom gives her a big hug. Click. She smiles at you. Click. You can't help but wonder in the back of your head how euphoric she must be feeling right now.

Once everyone had their fill of taking in the bride and all her glory, as she deserves, it was time for the first look.You meet back up with Hex, buzzing g with excitement. First looks are optional, not all couples do them, since it's considered bad luck to see the bride before the actual ceremony but recently it has been a trend to do first looks. "How was prep for the groom?" You ask. He smiles. "You mean letting the man get dressed and taking a few candids and then shooting the shit? It went great." You shove him and he laughs. "Bride's really pretty. I'm really happy for her. Her fiance isn't gonna know what hit him." You grin. " Are you getting soft on the job rookie?" Hex raises an eyebrow and you swat him again. " She's my friend, just this once I'm allowed to let business and work mesh this one time okay!" He shoves you this time and you both laugh. The corridentor clears her throat. The both of you immediately straighten out. " Happy to see the two of you getting along but as you've already gathered it's time to prepare for the first look." She turns to Hex. "Where's the best place for you to shoot in this area?" He points to a clearing in the hall and she nods. " Please go prepare yourself." The smile on your face wavers as Hex leaves. “As for you,” the coordinator continues. “I want you on bridesmaids and groomsmens photos. That way we aren't dragging people away from the after party to take individual pictures." " But-" "Please, Hex has this under control and will join you after the first look photos are finished." You want to protest. This is unfair. You had a really cute idea but I guess a photography degree means nothing these days. A selfish part of you, the hopeless romantic part, also wanted to see the first look. The special moments between the two before they're officially married. That selfish part of you wanting to see your long time friend and her soon to be husband light up at the sight of each other. I guess for now… You have your job to do.

You begrudgingly head off all of the flowers and fairy lights to take photos. You have to shake off your wants for a second. You're here to do a job. But why the fuck did the coordinator pick Hex- you're just as capable.

You're angry the more you think about Hex so you lock in. You get back into the zone instructing poses and filing different people in and out of shots. You're so in the zone you nearly jump 50 feet in the air as a tap on your shoulder startles you. "Woah you good?" Hex's stupid deep voice seeps into your brain. "Fine." You respond shortly before getting back to work. "Do you need any help?" "No Hex I don't. I've got this okay. I'm almost done anyway." He nods slowly. "Do you at least wanna take a short break? I can show you some raw shots of the first look. They turned out really cute, I think." Your jealousy rears its ugly head again and you glare at him "No! I don't care about your stupid photos okay. Please just go get set up for the ceremony." "Jesus Christ rookie, you don't have to bite my head off. Alright I'll see you later when you decide to play nice again." You admit you definitely lashed out at him a bit. Were you a bit jealous, absolutely, but taking it out on him after you guys finally became civil definitely wasn't the answer. You watch him walk away, you open your mouth to call out to him but the group of eyes waiting for their pictures to be taken stop you. You'll have to apologize later.

-

Guests start arriving shortly after you're done with your photos and you set up your location to shoot during the ceremony. Across the room Hex is setting up a tripod on one of the balconies to take automatic photos so he can be on the ground when the ceremony actually starts. You can't help but keep glances up at him. You feel awful about what happened. You go to set up your last tripod on the balcony to do the same thing he was planning to do. As you climb the stairs, he descends, you open your mouth again no words come out, he walks right past you. Doesn't even glance in your direction. Did you strike a cord? You were rude, sure, but you did mention you can be an ass. It still doesn't make it right but. Argh this is so stupid none of this would've happened if you had gotten to take those first look photos. You contemplate going after him explaining why you're upset and fixing this, but the pull of the job grapples you to continue.

You glance down over everyone chatting and finding their seats as you set your own camera on the tripod to automatic. There's something about a wedding that always makes you feel melancholy in the most gut wrenching way. Maybe it's the fact you've been single for so long now that a wedding seems unattainable. It's selfish but you can't help it. That familiar ach twists in your stomach. This one isn't jealous or butterflies, this one is just pure hurt.

You descend down the steps. You retrieve your bag to grab the camera you'll be using for the ceremony. Just as you're about to head to your shooting location you spy Hex. He's there chatting with a few of the other guests. One girl in particular catches your eye. You've seen her before somewhere on your friend's Instagram… She hugs Hex and is oddly touchy with him. He ruffled her hair affectionately before walking away. Your gut lurches again at the interaction but you ignore it. It's almost show time anyway pretty soon you won't have to worry about Hex Haywire, and this will be just a bittersweet memory.

The ceremony starts and you and Hex spring into action. The bridesmaids and groomsmen make the way down the aisle. Click. The groom makes his entrance. Click click. The flower girls toss beautiful petals down the aisle joining the ones already scattered. Click. The bride enters and is walked down the aisle. Click click. The groom almost cried. Click. The exchange vows. Click. Finally they kiss, everyone erupts in fanfare. Click click click.

The after party starts not long after. Your friend, freshly married and looking the happiest you've ever seen her, brings you a glass of champagne. “Thank you again for today. I owe both you and Hex my life." She hugs you. “I'm just happy I could help!” You smile. Before she can leave you catch her arm, pointing subtly at the girl Hex was talking to earlier. " Who's friend is that? Your's or your husband's?” She giggles. " I'm still not used to people referring to him as my husband.” She looks at the girl and immediately laughs. " That's my husband's younger sister! In turn; that's also Hex's honorary younger sibling." You must make a face of relief because she swats you. “Was someone a little jealous?He does dote on her quite a bit since he doesn't have any younger siblings." You frown. “No! A little… I don't know, okay..." You sigh and take a drink of your champagne. “Talk to him.... You both are extremely stubborn but extremely passionate. Plus…. Hex definitely keeps glancing at you when you aren't looking.” She says in a sing-song voice as she heads back out to join the party. You glance over and lock eyes with Hex, both of you left alone in the back part of the hall where the after party was being held.

He approaches after an uncomfortable amount of prolonged eye contact. "Hey.” He tosses you a lopsided smile. "Good work today.” He says patting your head softly. You want to relish in the praise but you have your own amendment to make. "I'm sorry… about being an ass earlier. I was jealous over something childish and got mad. " You sigh, hanging your head. Hex sighs. “I could tell.” “I'm really sorry. It's just first looks have always been special to me and the fact you got picked to do over me ignited something in me and I don't know. Then I saw you with the bride's sisters and I got even more up and-" Hex cuts off your sprailing. “Hey! Seriously, I forgive you. Don't worry about it. Okay?" He lifts your head with his hand, holding your chin in-between his fingers. “Besides….It's kinda cute. When you get all competitive and mad." He murmurs. You scrunch up your nose. "It's not cute. It's irritating for me and supposed to intimidate you.” He pulls you in a little closer with his other hand making contact with your lower back. " You're gonna have to work on that darling.” He quips. You stare into his eyes, almost get lost in them for a second. You then notice how close your faces are together, he smells good. You both lean in a little closer, eyes still locked. Hex glances at your lips and back at your eyes. You lean in even closer. You feel his breath tangle with yours. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation- "Sorry to interrupt. I wanted to thank you both for your work today.” The coordinator's voice rings out and the two of you immediately put distance between each other.

“I wanted to let you know you're both released from duty. You can enjoy some well earned champagne if you'd like. But perhaps you'd like some time to yourselfs?" She raises a knowing eyebrow that causes you to laugh awkwardly. “I think we're both gonna turn in for the night. It's been a long day." Hex smiles at the coordinator and goes to pack up his stuff leaving you alone with her. “I should um... probably do that too…” you sputter out. The corridentor smiles, shaking her head as you shuffle off to go pack your things as well.

-

You and Hex both do your own version of an Irish goodbye and get separated in the process. Things were awkward now in your mind at least, you almost kissed him! Worst of all he almost kissed you back!? The tension was undeniably now. You muse to yourself as you stroll along with your backpack of equipment on your back and both hands carrying a tripod case.

You swear Hex must've been a ninja in his past life. He somehow got behind you again without you being none the wiser. “You know..” you nearly jump ten feet in the air this time. " It's really not safe to be unaware of your surroundings regardless of you being in a public space.” He ruffles your hair and as you set down one of your tripod cases down to fix your now ruffled hair he picks it for you wordlessly. "You really don't have to do that.” You reach out to grab it but he pivots his body so you can't. " Please let me.” he says quietly. " Fine…" you mumble back softly.

You're almost at your hotel. The two of you chatted about all the editing to be done and the notes you'll have to compare. “Does this mean we have a temporary truce between us again?" He asks, lifting a questioning eyebrow. “I suppose it does." you smirk, nudging him. That little bit of contact sparks something in you, something much deeper. You felt it, the bolt of electricity, the undeniably feeling you've been having, it all culminated in a very clear thought at last. Desire… You wanted Hex to kiss you, you wanted him to dote on you, you wanted to get more praise from him. He coughs awkwardly as you stare blankly. “So are you turning in for the night? It has been a long day." You shrug. "Maybe… I'm not super tired yet so I'll probably end up editing for a few hours.” You admit. "....I know you prefer to have your creative space to yourself, but would you want someone to edit with…? I mean I'll probably do the same on my own anyway to be honest so… yeah…” He smiles softly. The pitch seems innocent in nature but deep down you feel those butterflies in your stomach. "Yeah? How about you give me my tripod back thief, I'll go up to my room and shower and change, all that junk and then I can stop by your room?” He smiles nods and hands you the tripod sealing in your ‘editing date’.

As you round the corner of the street then through the entrance of the hotel, you both pile into the elevator with your equipment. “I'll see you in like thirty minutes?" Hex asks before the doors open on your floor. “Yeah sounds good! What room number?" You ask. “512! See ya there!" He smirks as the doors close. You hum happily as you go back to your room. You stop. Holy shit. You have a non-conventional date with a guy you hated like a day ago. You throw your equipment down, shove your SD card in your laptop to upload files and sprint to the shower.

You shower fairly quickly despite needing to freshen everything… just in case… You throw on something cute but still comfortable and throw on some light makeup. You took a lot of shots today so your SD card only had a bit more to upload. In the meantime you maule over every scenario that could play out tonight. You maule over not going at all, protecting your peace not getting attached, because as much as you wanted this you know how this ends. However the butterflies in your stomach protested and once your photos were done you grabbed your laptop and you headed over to Hex's hotel room. Mind whirling…

Your heart thumps as you step back into the elevator. You press the number 5 on the wall and feel the elevator lurch to life following suit with your stomach. The elevator reaches the top and you follow the signs to 512. You knock on the door lightly. You hear some shuffling inside before he opens the door. He looked a lot more disshovled, hair still slightly wet from his own shower no doubt, black T-shirt on… gray sweatpants… “Perfect timing! My photos from my main camera just finished. Anyway, come in!" He ushers you inside. “I know this isn't my house technically… but can I get you anything to drink; water, tea, shitty hotel coffee?” You laugh. " A tea sounds great if you don't mind.” You sit on the couch and take out your laptop as you hear Hex shuffle about in the kitchen area preparing the tea.

You open up your laptop and scroll through the photos starting to delete the off shots and the ones that were obviously unsalvageable. Hex sets a cup of tea down on the coaster and sits on the couch with his own laptop and starts to do the same. “How many raw shots do you have currently?" He asks. You immediately sigh. “Around 1300…” He sighs, shaking his head. " I'm also in the thousands. I always forget about the aftermath." He groans. You glance over at his computer screen and see some of the photo previews in the folder. One of them looks suspiciously like you are locked in, focused on taking photos. You're about to point it out but Hex turns his laptop away.

"I guess we should get started." He sighs. “Yeah unfortunately. At least it won't be lonely editing these. I have you to bug me the whole time." You smirk and give a teasing squeezing his knee. You don't realize how intimate the action is until after it happens. His eyes lock on yours. You almost regret it for a moment because he hesites, his eyebrows not together. You blink. The next second Hex's lips crash into yours. Your eyes flutter shut as you practically melt into the kiss. Your lips mingle for a short while, then he pulls back slowly resting his forehead on yours. “You are the most insufferable person I've ever met. You're also gorgeous and smart and witty… and I've wanted to kiss you from the moment I saw you.”

You're speechless for a second. Physically stunned. “Sorry I just-" Hex starts, but you kiss him again, just a quick peck to shut him up. “You're an enigma. I hope you know that. You're also insufferable but in a way that keeps me coming back for more… I dunno.” Hex smiles and tucks a stand of hair behind your ear. "Is this all because you thought I was handsome? Because I'm starting to get the feeling it might be.” He teases. You wack him lightly on the arm and he erupts in a fit of laughter. " You keep calling me out but you kissed me first, so dare I say you think I'm pretty-” "Of course I do, I thought I made it really obvious.” You pout. " You kept calling me rookie… is that what is obvious to you!? How was I supposed to know?" He laughs again. “Okay fine, what do you want me to call you.” You freeze. You have an opportunity to do several corny things here but you don't. "What do you want to call me?” You hurl back in his direction, you know where this is going but you need to know his boundaries now or die without knowing.

He sighs, setting his laptop on the table. “There's a lot of things I wanna call you." He starts. "Pretty, annoying, adorable, incredibly career driven… but most of all I think calling you darling would be really nice.” His hand snakes around your chin, anchoring towards him again. "What do you say… Darling?" He tests. “I… I really…" anyone could tell how flustered you are at this moment. But that sadistic part of Hex kind of liked watching you squirm and struggle to find your words. “I really like that. I think." You finally gasp out. A smirk takes over Hex's face as he grabs your laptop, setting it next to his on the table. He pats the couch beckoning you closer to him. “We'll edit in a bit." A lie, obviously, at this moment work is the last thing on your mind.

The second you scooch closer to him he scoops you up in his lap. You're a bit disoriented for a second but the second you realize the compromising position he put you in your brain fogs up. “Hi…” you whisper shyly. " Hi gorgeous.” He smiles before pulling you down to kiss him again. This kiss is different from the other two; it's deeper, needier. His tongue tangles with yours and you instinctively shift slightly in his lap, looping your arms around his neck. He continues to kiss you, eventually you feel his hands at your waist, toying with the fabric of your shirt. You part the kiss for a moment, glancing at him, giving him a nod. After all, consent is hot. A smirk plastered on his face he watches your expression as he runs his hands under the fabric of your shirt.You feel the heat rise from the tips of your toes all the way up to your face when his hands trail up your stomach to your chest. Your head falls on his shoulder to muffle the small noise that emanates from you as he softly cups your chest, squeezing gently as a test.

He tugs at your shirt and you take it off, top half exposed you feel a little self conscious and instinctively cover yourself. “Hey, it's okay. If you aren't comfortable we don't have too." Hex coos softly stroking your back. “Sorry it's…been awhile…” you mumble. He kisses your forehead. " Me too. We can go slow if that makes you more comfortable.” Why did he have to be so fucking understanding. "I can do slow.” You nod, almost as a gesture to assure yourself. You slowly unfurl your arms and bare yourself to him. Hex's hands land back on your chest slowly massaging your sensitive nipples. Your hands fists his shirt. “You're really responsive." He teases. " Shut up…” you flush. He places kisses along your neck slowly trailing down your clavicle, drifting towards your chest. Your grip on his shirt tightens as he slowly takes one of your nipples in his mouth, slowly toying with it. Your head falls back on his shoulder, you pepper soft kisses on his neck. Once he's satisfied with your nipples he releases them with a lewd pop.

He pulls back and takes off his own shirt. You can't help but stare for a second. He isn't ripped or anything, definitely has some well defined muscles. You cautiously move your hands feeling the soft skin of his lower abdomen. He lets out a low hum of approval. You shift again, you're still in his lap after all, you feel him hard underneath you. He looks at you. “Are you sure you wanna keep going?" He prods gently. “Please." You say, it comes out a lot more needier than you wanted it to. He chuckles darkly. “God I was hoping you still did."

With that he picks you up and carries you to the bed nearby, gently tossing you on it. “You definitely got a nicer bed than I did." You mumble. He leans in close to your ear. “Maybe you'll just have to sleep here tonight then." He playfully nips your ear, easing down your sweatpants. One your pants around your ankles, you do the rest and unceremoniously kick them off your legs. He goes for your panties next, kissing down your stomach. Your panties are tossed somewhere on the floor along with your sweatpants.

Hex takes a moment to stare down at you underneath him. You squirm under his gaze and a sly smile falls on his face. “You're so fuckin pretty." He whispers before parting your legs. “And really wet too apparently, all this is for me?" He teases. You open your mouth to reply something snarky but the words die in your throat and morph into a whine as he swipes his finger along your slit. With that firm confirmation you obviously (and embarrassingly) enjoyed that he continues to toy with your pussy. His fingers dances along your clit and you let out another guttural moan. “Need more." Your voice sounds foreign to you. He snickers, amused by your neediness. “Patients, what happened to slow?" “Fuck slow, your fingers feel really good." You pout. “Fine, you want more, I'll give you more." With that ominous statement he sticks two fingers in front of your mouth. " Suck.” He commands with a shit eating smirk plastered on his face. You obey obviously, slowly engulf his finger in your mouth sucking gently. You hear his voice hitch, this is doing something for him and as much as you want to tease him back your mouth is a little occupied.

Once he's satisfied with your work he removes your finger out of your mouth. Two fingers, now glistening with your spit, toy at your entrance. You squirm again, and Hex uses his other hand to hold your hips in place. Then gently he enters both of them into you at once, with your hips pinned all you can do is trash your head and pleasure. He slowly removed them and entered them again, setting a decent pace. He leans up to kiss you again. It's deep and sensual, you can practically taste the desire. His fingers hit that spot inside you and you mewel. “There, holy fuck right there." Hex takes the very obvious lead and continues to hit that spot. Your vision blurs and stars form behind your eyes, before you can get the words out you cum around his fingers.

Hex continues to help you ride out your orgasm; he slows his finger in and out of you, and once your eyes degloss he removes them, much to your disappointment. His eyes lock on to yours and he immediately inserts his cum covered fingers into his mouth. You shiver, not breaking eye contact he completely cleans his fingers. “Are you… still good to keep going darling?” He asks. You glance down at his pants, which now have an obvious tent from how hard he is. “Absolutely, I think it's your turn pretty boy." You tease and make grabby hands for his pants. He holds your wrist and pauses for a moment. “I don't think I can wait any longer…. If that's okay.” He admits sheepishly. "That's completely fine, but just know I have to get you back next time.” He begins to pull down his sweatpants with a raised eyebrow. " So there's a possibility of a next time huh?” You flush and turn your head. " Perhaps." He chuckles. “Hey I'll take it." You turn your head back towards him as he slides down his boxers. His cock springs free and… you saw the tent in his sweats, you registered it. But seeing his cock he's a lot bigger than you initially thought. Your mouth falls open and Hex laughs at you. “Do you like what you see? You can always take a picture if you want, since you are pretty good at that. " He teases. "If I weren't so turned on right now I'd slap you.” You joke and pull him down for another kiss, you feel his cock rub against your thigh and you feel the excitement swell in your stomach.

He pulls back and lines up with your entrance. " You ready, pretty girl?” You nod, biting your lip to brace yourself. He enters just the head of his dick in your entrance. He lets out a shaky breath continuing to slowly slide inside you. You grip the sheets, you knew he was gonna stretch you but you weren't expecting the sheering pain mixed with pleasure. Once he finally bottoms out inside you he moves his hands to your hips and rubs gently circles into the flesh there waiting for you to adjust. He leans down and peppers your faces with kisses cooing sweet nothings. After a bit of time you give an experimental buck of your hips, both of you moan in unison.

That ignites something in Hex, knowing you're adjusted he pulls almost all the way out of you and roughly snaps his hips back into you. You fist the best sheet underneath you to hang on to any shred of sanity you have left. He continues to rut in and out of you like a starved man. “Fuck you're so perfect, it's like your pussy was made for me." He whines, leaning his head on your shoulder and biting it. You are a mess, you don't know when tears started streaming down your face but they are and you can no longer form complete sentences, just broken ones with Hex's name thrown in. His pace quickens and that familiar feeling forms in your gut. “I'm close." You moan. “Me too, don't worry me too." He responded hastily. “Cum for me darling." He mumbles against your shoulder. After a particularly hard snap of his hips you do. The sheer euphoria that shoots through your body makes your head fuzzy. You tighten around Hex as you come, he thrusts become sloppy. “W.. where do you want it?" He frantically spits out. “Anywhere, I'm on the pill, don't worry." You respond on cloud nine. That was all it took and a moment later you feel his warm cum flood your pussy, he collapses on top of you.

The two of you stay like that for a moment basking in the afterglow of both of your orgasms. Eventually Hex boots back to life and slowly pulls out. You whine as he exits your very sensitive hole. “I'm gonna grab a wet washcloth and I'll be right back." He murmurs. You feel the warmth of his body on your leave as he goes to retrieve it. You don't move and continue to lay there, you hear Hex pad back over to the bed and then the warm washcloth hits you. He gently cleans you up and you thank him… you think, the words coming out of your mouth sound foreign to you. The bed dips and you hear the rustle of covers. You crack one eye open finally and you're met with Hex staring back at you. “Come here." He smiles, it's gooey and affectionate. You oblige using the rest of your strength to scoot back into his arms under the covers.

The two of you cuddle in silence for a while. It's peaceful. You're sleepy and the energy is zapped from you. “Thank you for letting me stay here tonight." You whisper. “You're warm, I'd be stupid to send you back to your own room." He jokes, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “We have to edit…” you groan, eyes shooting back open to the pair of laptops where this whole thing started. “You don't leave for another couple days, neither do I. It can wait, for now let's rest. I think we've earned it." So you do. You shut your eyes and snuggle into Hex's chest falling asleep almost instantly.

-

The next few days are great, Hex and you edit alternating from sleeping in his room and sleeping in your room, his bed is still better than yours. You learn more about him as a person. He's funny, smart, extremely witty, but still can be a pretentious jerk; though much less of one now. You also end up going to do some shooting around the area, just like you planned and Hex happily accompanies you taking some shots of his own.

The last night the two of you were together in Mexico, you finally asked the question. “So what happens when we go home?" You blurt out suddenly. Hex peers over at you from his laptop. “What do you mean?" You bit your lip anxiously. “I dunno… We've been spending a lot of time together and I like being around and… I guess this is me asking…what are we?” You want to crawl into a hole. You went into this knowing things would probably end here but after the last couple days, that feeling you had morphed into something far more dangerous, attachment. “What are we….” He repeats. " Well I guess that's something we both have to agree on.” He sets his laptop down and faces you. “What did you want us to be?" He asks. “At first when we met, I wanted nothing to do with you. Now that I know you and have spent some time with you…I guess I can say I've grown very fond of you.” You mumble. " I like you a lot, Hex.” He gets up walking over to you. " Listen, I echo that same sentiment. I thought you were some rookie who was just gonna get in my way. Now you're so much more than that and if you're open to it, I would love to continue exploring and expanding our relationship…. together.” He takes your hand and squeezes it gently. You enthusiastically nod. " I would like that a lot. Does that sorta make us a couple then?" You ask cautiously. “No idiot, I want nothing to do with you. Of course it makes us a couple." He rolls his eyes ruffling your hair.

You smile and he smiles back at you, with the sun sunsetting behind him. You can't help but think how lucky you are for hating to work with other people.

-Epilogue-

“3….2…..1….. you may turn and see each other now!” You turn around fist looks strange when you're the one doing them. Hex is dressed in a dark blue tux and looks as charming and strikingly handsome as he did the day you met him at your friend's wedding all those years ago. Tears well in his eyes as he gazes at you with such affection that makes your heart swell. “You're gorgeous, fuck you're so gorgeous." He runs over and hugs you, twirling you around. “Okay show off, I know you're doing this for the camera." You tease him.

Glancing at the poor wedding photographer who's had to put up with you and Hex micromanaging shots since your engagement photos. “I'm a lucky man, what can I say!" He shrugs. " I'm about to marry the love of my life in a few hours and the first man who got to see her in a wedding dress.” He boasts proudly. You laugh, because how couldn't you. Your soon to be husband is just as pretentious as the day you met him, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

»»————-　☾　————-««

[gardenofhope]

hiiii after… a bit longer than I anticipated, I finished setting up my toyhouse :] you can see how much I love sharing abt my ocs [here!]

[fruitisthenewvegitable]

Sometimes I think I’m not of the Buried.

But then I remember the feeling of being under my blanket. Of wrapping a belt or skirt around my waist. The feeling of my friends leaning on my chest at a sleepover. Of wearing oversized and warm clothes. Of closing my bedroom door and pulling the curtains shut so that all I know is this space I’ve decorated for myself and no other. The feeling of being held.

Sometimes I think that the buried is simply not for me. But then I remember all the times that weight on my chest and belly and legs and back has comforted me in a way not many other things can. In a way that makes me feel secure. In a way that grounds me until I am ready to face the world again.

I used to think the Buried wasn’t for me. But then I remembered that without weight on my chest I would simply float away into the outer depths of space, somewhere I would love to see but hate to exist in. And that if I were to pick between never setting foot on the confining grounds of the earth, letting all my worries and fears go, and flying off to the horizon, the border of our atmosphere, the moon, the sun, and the stars, never stopping until I simply couldn’t anymore, or choose the earth. Then I would still choose the earth, for even if it keeps all my discomforts, it still holds the weight that gives me the ability to calm and ground myself until I am ready to face the world anew, so that I may experience the joy of the presence of others and not just the burning core of the stars, for being able to face the things outside my door is what makes me who I am.

And I fucking love who I am.

So I will take the weight and pressure and comfort that allow me to think straight, and once I am calm again I will have my strength back.

[shippingmyworld]

Who wants to beta-read my next tigerghost one-shot?

[princesskkfish]

A rant~

(be prepared for nonsense all over the place so sry)

Being a artist is really hard sometimes! (It’s hard just being a human too but I’d have a essay if I got into that, so staying to the artist side of things) anyways, it’s hard! Like yeah it’s a lot of peoples outlet and making art is super fun. And I’m not usually one to complain (for a number of reasons but whatever) but I want everyone to know their not alone and it really is hard sometimes

Being a artist has its ups and downs: art block, lack of motivation, lack of ideas, or being really inspired, or having tons of ideas and just goofing around. But the downside er hard part at least for me and others I know is the comparing and feeling of not good enough. Either not good enough in your art, feeling it not perfect enough, having to high of expectations and feeling terrible when it didn’t turn out the way you wanted. We all know this feeling in one way or another and I’ll be straight up it sucks, it really does

and this ruins it for some people and I hate that, the fact you can create something is amazing! No matter how good or bad you think you are. Everyone has the right to be creative and make the things they feel inspired to do! And no matter how far along you are in your art journey comparing can potentially crush that

and don’t get me wrong comparing isn’t inherently bad. Like you can compare your art to learn from it or see how someone else does this certain thing and how you can improve your art. What I’m trying to say is, don’t belittle yourself or your art because your going great and you are unique and no one else can make that art like you can! And it’s not fair to yourself to compare your artwork to another persons. That person might have years of practice or draws hours a day to improve.

And going right along with that last bit EVERYONE is always improving and at one point or another the person your comparing yourself too felt the same way you do. So be nice to yourself! Your doing great! And you shouldn’t make art just so you can “beat” or be “better” then this other person. Make art because you want too and because it makes you happy >:0

And that’s the end of my rant I would go on but my brain is fried and I still have homework to finish o7

[kitkatt0430]

Kitkatt0430-PodFics?

Hey, so I made a new pseud over on Ao3 (soon to come to SquidgeWorld too) where I'll be posting up podfics of my own works. Sporadically, since it's time intensive and even a short work like Middle (The Flash - Barry/Eddie/Iris) took several takes before I was satisfied it was decently paced, had good enunciation for everything, etcetera.

It was fun to do, though, so it was a successful little experiment for me and I'll definitely be doing more over time. And no doubt I'll be improving the more of these I do, too.

I don't know that I'll be asking to podfic anyone else's work since I've got so much of my own out there already. But I wouldn't rule it out entirely.

[an-ruraiocht]

90% of the time when i see reviews and posts saying "this book needed editing" i don't think the reader have any idea what editing actually entails. usually this is actually code for one of several "problems" with the book:

it's too long, or it's slower paced than this reader's preference. they believe "editing" would mean making it shorter

it has a heavily descriptive style, which the reader doesn't like. they believe "editing" means paring every sentence down to hemingway-style prose with no adverbs

it doesn't follow the very rigid "save the cat" style 3-act story structure, disrupting the reader's sense of narrative tension. an editor, they believe, would've made sure it did

there were a few typos or formatting errors, and they believe it's the editor's job to catch these (it's not, it's typically the proofreader and the typesetter who have responsibility for that kind of thing)

and finally, most often:

the author had different narrative priorities than the reader, who thinks an editor would have made the author change their priorities.

the thing is, there are actually issues with editors in trad publishing being overworked to the point where things aren't getting the thorough, thoughtful editing that they need to be the best version of themselves. there are plenty of badly-structured, poorly-researched, and clumsily written books out there. moreover copyediting is typically freelance and perhaps because of that, this is the area where i see the largest number of issues: continuity issues, grammar issues, factual errors etc that someone should've spotted and didn't.

but this is not typically what people's "this needed an editor" reviews are focusing on. most often it just means they didn't like the book and they've decided editing is an all-powerful force that would have transformed it into a book they liked. but that's not how it works. and disproportionately what this comment means is that the book doesn't match what current fashions have decided is The Correct Style to write in

"this book needed an editor" if it's traditionally published, it had one. like. by definition. it was an editor who bought the book. that doesn't mean the editor did a great job but they definitely existed. there were probably at least two (acquiring editor who does the dev edits; copyeditor who does copyedits), and the proofreader, and a bunch of other people besides.

also i think people think editors are the ones who like. implement the changes. but they don't. they give comments and recommendations and ask questions and the author is the one to act on them. the editor will not rewrite the book. they will not fix the problems themselves, they will highlight the problem and the author will figure out a fix for it, or they will decide they don't agree that it's a problem and leave it as it. and a lot of the sentence-level style stuff is entirely on the author so if they don't have an ear for the rhythm then nobody's going to fix that for them. editors do a lot less than people seem to imagine they do, tbh

anyway

for reference—

structural/developmental edits: is this chapter in the right place and does the plot make sense and is the characterisation consistent and effective

line edits: is this sentence in the right place and is it as stylish as it could be

copy edits: is this sentence grammatically correct and consistent/factually correct within the story/its world and do the spellings follow the publisher's stylesheet

proofreading: are there any typos in this sentence and was the formatting preserved correctly when it was typeset

[jazziejax]

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐤 ‘𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Cowboy!Terry Richmond x Black!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - They had always had this lingering tension between them. But not it seems that whatever feelings were there have now boiled over and at the Sweet Tooth Saloon, things get a little hot.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 18+!, MINORS DNI, Heavy tension, sensual dancing, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), soft!Terry, mild dominance, tender aftercare, implied feelings

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - since yall only like me when I write about Aaron Pierre 🙄 I’m not good at wiring smut and I don’t even like doing it but this is something to hold yall over in case I drop off the fave if the earth soon. I have Finals next week :( UNEDITED, sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes. There probably many because my laptop over heated…also, I can’t write a short fic to save my life.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭- 9,567+

The small bell above the door jingled as the large man stepped into the beauty salon, ducking slightly to avoid the low-hanging dried herbs strung up near the entrance. The scent of lavender and bergamot mixed with the faintest trace of hot iron and other chemicals, the kind used to curl or straighten a lady’s hair.

He had never set foot in a place like this before. Not because he didn’t believe in looking presentable—he just never trusted another person with a razor near his throat. And, to be honest, he didn't mind looking rough sometimes, but he was starting to become a little self-conscious whenever a woman looked at him for too long. Especially her. But the dust of the road clung to him, so his beard and his hair had grown past the point of comfort as he and his comrades spent more time than they thought in Sugar Cane Creek. Everything needed a trim. At least, the mirror at the bar last night told him as much, and Jim had made a comment about him “starting to look like a wild man”.

Terry didn’t care much what people thought, but he cared about feeling like himself.

A woman stood behind the counter, fingers-deep in a bowl of soapy water, scrubbing a comb. The early morning light that poured through the shop window was caught in her dark hair, making it shine like polished mahogany. She looked up, recognizing him instantly—because who in Sugar Cane Creek didn’t know who he rode with? But she didn’t stiffen or frown like some folk did when they saw a man from the Nat Love Gang.

Instead, she wiped her hands on a cloth, tilted her head, and smiled just enough to let him know she wasn’t afraid.

“Well, well." She mused, setting her rag aside. “Never thought I’d see the day you walked in here.” She said, a soft grin on her face. Her voice was as rich and smooth as honey fresh from the comb.

Terry removed his hat with a sigh, brushing a hand over his curls that had gotten a little thick on top of his head. “I think I'm in need of a trim.”

She raised a brow. “Hair or beard?”

“Both.”

Her gaze flickered over him, lingering on the rough edges of his beard. “I’ll say. Starting to look real close to a mountain man.” She quipped. Terry, however, didn’t smile, but something in his dark eyes did shift, a flicker of amusement that only she would catch. They had always danced around one another. Something they had been doing for a while now—exchanging looks in town while Terry earned his keep over at Cotton's and she began to start her work day at The Blush and Brush Parlor, brushing shoulders when they shared time at The Sweet Tooth Saloon. He was a quiet man, but she liked that about him. A man who didn’t talk just to fill space.

Her eyes flickered over his face, then lower to where his suede, dark brown, coat stretched broad across his shoulders. “Take your coat off." She said, already gathering her scissors. “You might be here a while.”

Terry hesitated, looking down at the shorter woman with a tired look. "Don't talk about me like I'm some sort of ruffian, now." He said, his voice deep and his country drawl thick. The brown skinned woman gave him a faux pout with a small laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, bright eyes, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Now take a seat and let’s get you looking decent again, okay?" She grinned, playing coy with him. Terry didn't flinch at the name, but a small twitch was his lip was noticeable to her before he then shrugged out of his coat and laid it over the empty chair not far from him. He then sat down in the chair she stood in front of, allowing the woman to drape a sheet over his front, tying it at the back of his neck with nimble fingers before combing through his hair. She was gentle, but precise—no wasted movements, no hesitation.

"You know how to do men's hair?" He asked.

"Yup." She said. “Been cutting my daddy’s since I was eight. Used to say I was better than any barber in town.” He could hear the smile in her tone at the thought, though it veered off into something a little sad.

Terry hummed, the closest he’d come to laughter anyways, but he could also tell that the subject was a little sensitive to her. He let her work, let the soft snip of the scissors fill the quiet. Every so often, he felt the barest brush of her fingertips against his skin. He could also feel her large chest brush against the back of his neck every now and then, causing him to look up into the mirror in front of him, watching the woman work. He wasn’t a man who flinched easy, but something about that gentle touch made him tense in a way he couldn’t explain.

The shop was quiet except for the snip of her scissors. She worked with practiced ease, combing through his hair, trimming away the weight. Every so often, her fingers brushed the nape of his neck, light and deliberate. She felt the way he tensed, barely noticeable, but there.

“Relax, cowboy." She teased. “I ain’t gon' hurt you.” She said softly.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, settling into the chair.

She then suddenly grabbed the side of his head, straightening his head and looking at him though the mirror. He wasn't quite sure what she was doing, but he didn't question it as he watched her intensely though the mirror.

“Alright." She murmured after a while. “That’s the hair. Now the tricky part.”

She brush the excess hair from him before she turned to the washbasin, dipping a cloth into warm water before wringing it out. He expected her to hand it to him, but instead, she pressed it against his face herself. She held his head steady with her other hand, gripping his chin. And he couldn't help but wonder if she did the same procedures with all her clients, because even though his hair looked better than before, the way she was touching felt oddly intimate. The heat from her touch as well as the warm cloth sank into his skin, soothing the roughness of travel and the dry air. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that.

She worked carefully, rubbing a mixture of soap and oil into his beard before picking up the straight razor. She tested the blade against her thumb. She hummed before moving over to the leather strap against the wall to give it a quick sharpen. She tested it again, obviously to her liking since she walked back over and tipped his chin up with two fingers.

“You ever had a woman shave you before?” She asked, looking up from inspecting his unruly beard to lock eyes with his bright ones. It was a simple question, calling for a simple answer, but their gazes were intense. Terry shook his head, just barely, caught in her big eyes and soft touch as he licked his lips.

His response, or lack there of, caused her to grin. “Good. Means you’ll keep still.” She said, only leaning in briefly as she joked with him, but her sudden contact made allowed him to catch a whiff of sweet scent like, something like Ambrosia.

“Lean back,” She instructed, her foot hovering over the pump that allowed the chair to recline. Terry hesitated, blinking at her. It's not that he didn't trust her, he'd known her for quite some time now. He trusted her hands in his hair, but a blade near his throat? That was different. He never trusted anyone that much, not even his closest comrades. It's the reason why all his self-cut's were a little choppy. Something that wouldn't have mattered if he was still up to his outlaw duties and on the road. But now he was spending his time in saloon's and around beauties they didn't offer at home.

She caught the shift in his posture, her smirk turning knowing. “You scared?” She questioned.

Terry met her gaze, his own steady. “No.”

“Then sit still.” She said before she pushed down on the pump under the chair, allowing it to recline. And that he did, opening his growing facial hair to her, ample room left in case of his worst fear. But he had no reason to fear her and her intentions, because her blade was steady. Her hands were sure, and he trusted her, even though he had no reason to.

The razor glided slow, careful. She kept her grip steady, the blade sharp and sure as it skimmed along his jaw. The heat of the late afternoon pressed into the shop, thick and lazy, but it wasn’t what made her skin prickle. It wasn’t what sent that slow, creeping flush up her neck, settling warm in her cheeks.

No, that was him. It was his eyes that were watching her.

They were unblinking, steady, tracking her every move like a man who had nowhere else to be. He was always like this—silent, still, and always looking—but something about it felt different now. Maybe because they were closer than usual. Maybe because she could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the slow rise and fall of his chest under the weight of her touch.

She set her jaw, trying not to let on just how much she felt him. The every move he made under her touch.

Instead, she focused.

“Bet you’re the kind of man who don’t like feeling vulnerable." She murmured, trying to make small talk with staring man.

Terry’s eyes stayed on her. “You talk too much.” He said, quirking a brow at her. She chuckled, dragging the blade along his jawline. “Maybe. But you don’t talk enough, so it evens out.”

Her hand shifted, fingers pressing just beneath his chin as she tilted his head for a better angle. He was warm beneath her touch, his pulse steady, but she felt it jump when her nails scraped lightly against his throat. She tilted his chin just slightly, her fingers light under his jaw, and dragged the blade down his throat in a slow, deliberate motion. He let her, not moving, not even swallowing, though she could see the tight pull of his muscles beneath his skin, right at the peek of his shirt.

She shouldn’t be looking there, but how could she not? This hunk of a man was lying below her, almost open and willing as he gazed up her with a soft look in his eyes. The air between them was thick, something unspoken curling at the edges. Her grip on the razor tightened just a little as she worked, and his gaze burned hotter for it.

“You always watch this hard?” She asked finally, keeping her tone light as she wiped the hair she cut on a rag after shaking it off in the water basin and then wiping it away. She glanced up some, catching sight of his lips—pink, full, and slightly parted—tipped up at the corner. “Always.” That single word, rough and low, sent something straight to her stomach.

She swallowed as she continued working, trying her best to focus, steadying herself. She wasn’t about to let him get the better of her, no matter how much heat curled between them. But she also took her time finishing the shave, enjoying the rare sight of the outlaw that is Terry Richmond—silent, still, and at her mercy.

“You’re awful quiet for a man with so much to say in his eyes." She murmured, brushing away the lingering shaving foam with the pad of her thumb. Her hand lingered a second too long, caught in the shape of his jaw. Terry still didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched her.

“Didn’t know I needed to talk." He said, and she could’ve sworn she saw his blue eyes flicker to a sea green as the light hit them. The warmth in her cheeks…and else where, deepened. She pulled back, making quick work of the last stroke of hair she had to eliminate, but her hands weren’t as steady as before.

And he knew that.

By the time she was done, the shop felt too small, too warm, too much. She grabbed the cloth and wiped his face cleaning, looking at her finished product around his mouth. Her eyes met his briefly as she took in the goatee she set him up with, a small smile beginning to grace his feature as his eyes bounced across her face. She cleared her throat softly, wiping an imaginary spot of lather from his jaw and leaned back to admire her work. “There. You clean up nice, cowboy.” She said with a grin.

She turned, quickly wiping the blade clean, setting it aside, and moving a few steps away to compose herself as she gathered the material she sat out in front of the mirror.

But then she felt him stand up from the chair, taking the cape off. She felt the shift in the air when he got close—just behind her. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him at her back. She glanced up, watching as he inspected his face in the mirror from behind her. He rubbed his large hands across his face, taking in his fresh look. He only did that for a few seconds before his gazed dropped to the round woman below him. He her her eyes in the mirror, nothing but an exchange between their eyes. She was the only to look away first, cleaning the station.

Terry sat the hair cape he had in his hands in the chair, looking as himself one last time before he hummed in content. He place his hand on her shoulder, large over her breakers that was far from small. “Good job.” He said, voice low near her ear. He then stepped away, his hand dragging down and across the back of her waist as he moved over to shoulder on his coat. She froze at the feeling of him touching her, and then gulped at his fingers tracking off her body. She looked up, looking herself in the eye and blinking, making sure this was all real, before looking in the mirror to watch him put the coat over his large frame.

Terry ran a hand over his chin, feeling the smoothness. He met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them.

“How much?” He asked after putting on his hat, straightening his clothing, and she tried not to get distract by the way he grabbed his belt, using it to adjust his pants. She turns, tiring her head at him as she gave him a noticeable once over. “Hmm.” She stated with a hum, placing her hands on her hips as she stepped closer. “Well, if you were any other customer, I’d charge five cent. But for you, Terry Richmond, I’ll charge you three.” She smiled.

Terry’s lips twitched, his expression unreadable as he glanced off into the distance out side of the parlor’s windows. He adjusted his belt, the large buckle dinging softly while the leather shifted under his grip. His eyes, sharp and knowing, flicked back to her.

“Three cents, huh?” His voice was smooth, lazy, but there was an edge to it—like he was turning something over in his mind. “Mighty generous of you. Can’t help but to think I’m special.” He quipped, though his tone never really wavered from his deep baritone and his serious manner.

She lifted a brow, arms still crossed as she tilted her head at him. “Well, I’m feelin’ kind.” She smiled, playing along to the game she knew she started, all for the hell of it.

That little smirk of his deepened. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, closing some of the space she’d put between them. She felt it immediately—his warmth, his presence. It was impossible not to.

“You always this kind? Or only to me?” His voice had dropped, rough and low, like gravel dipped in honey.

Her pulse skipped. She held his gaze, not backing down, but he knew what he was doing. He knew the way his voice curled around her, the way his eyes made her skin prickle. Her breath caught, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she kept her expression even, playful, letting her smile linger as she tilted her chin up at him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She murmured, voice smooth as satin. “Mr. Special.” She finished, a certain glint in her eye as she tilted her chin just slightly—like she wasn’t the least bit affected. Like she wasn’t keenly aware of just how close he was now.

Terry huffed a quiet chuckle, but there was something else in his eyes—something sharp, knowing. His gaze flickered down, just briefly at the Lowe part of her face, before settling back on hers. His presence was suffocating in the best way, heavy and warm, filling up the little space between them.

“I would.” He admitted, voice slow and deliberate, like he was testing the weight of the words. “Got a feelin’ the answer might keep me up at night.” He said, crossing his arms.

She let out a soft laugh, looking away from his heavy stare as she shook her head. The heat curling in her stomach was unmistakable. He was good—too good. And she didn’t now how’s long she last in this little game they always played before she pounced on him.

“Don’t go losin’ sleep over me, Richmond.” She teased, even as her pulse thrummed in her ears. She breezed past him, making sure her side brushed against his as she moving over to the small counter on the left side of the door. His eyes trailed down her figure once her back was to him, taking in her round and voluptuous curves from behind. “Wouldn’t wanna be the cause of your troubles.” She finished as she turned to look at him from behind the counter. She leaned her weight in the counter, her hand clasped together with her forearms resting on cold wood. She watched as Terry stood there for a moment, the look in his eye darker than before as he stated at her. He then blinked before moving, not taking his eyes from her with his pace slow and deliberate before he stood on the other side of the counter, looking down at the woman.

Terry tilted his head slightly, studying her like he was seeing something no one else had the sense to look for.

“Too late for that.” He said. The words were quiet, but they landed heavy between them, sending a shiver straight down her spine. Before she could find something clever to throw back at him after gulping, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver dollar, and placed it on the counter in front of her hands. His fingers brushed hers, Cushing him to glance down at the small touch.

He then looked back up, his blue eyes staring into her brown ones. “That oughta cover the next few visits.” He said, voice even, but there was that flicker of something else in his eyes again—something smug, something dangerous.

She laughed, shaking her head. “That’s too much.”

Terry simply shook his head, glancing away from her. “Nah.”

She narrowed her gaze at him, lips parting slightly, but he was already shrugging into his coat, the weight of his scent—tobacco and something deep, something him—lingering in the air. “And here I thought you didn’t like to talk.” She mused, watching him, arms placed on the counter as she thought over all their silent but pleasant times together in the Saloon while the rest of the gang chatted.

Terry confined to gaze at her, his eyes taking across her face. “I don’t.” He said, his smirk lazy, knowing. He paused, casting her a slow, lingering glance—one that made her stomach twist up in knots. He then turned to the door, but before pausing and casting one last glance over his shoulder. His gaze swept over her—slow, deliberate, enough to make the air feel thick with something unspoken. Then, after a beat—“But you make it worth it, Mrs.Special.” Then he tipped his hat and walked out.

And then, just like that, he was gone, leaving her standing there, staring after him, her heart racing, her face burning hotter than a summer’s day in Cane Creek, her fingers gripping the counter a little tighter than before and the lingering ghost of his eyes still burning against her skin.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Sweet Tooth Saloon was alive tonight—thick with the scent of whiskey, tobacco, and the heat of too many bodies pressed close together. Laughter and conversation swirled beneath the hum of string instruments, boots tapping against the wooden floor. The music was thick, rolling through the air like smoke, wrapping around every body packed into the space. Heat clung to the walls, thick with whiskey, sweat, and the deep, throaty hum of anticipation.

But all of it quieted—just a little—when she stepped onto the stage. Her deep red dress hugging her curves, sinching in her waist and pushing up her breast.

The pianist struck a slow, rolling tune, and a hush fell over the crowd like a held breath. She let them wait, dragging her fingertips along the microphone stand, tilting her head slightly as she took in the sea of faces before her. Then, just when the tension thickened, she let her voice pour out, smooth and rich like warm molasses.

The song was sultry, the kind that curled its way around a man’s spine and made him lean in just a little closer, made him think about things he shouldn’t in a room full of people. And Lord, did they lean in. The entire saloon was hanging onto her voice, watching the way she swayed, the way her fingers trailed down her own arm, the way she made every lyric sound like a promise whispered against bare skin.

Men leaned closer, their drinks forgotten, their gazes fixed on the woman commanding the stage. Her voice was rich, full of promise, of something dark and sweet.

But there was only one pair of eyes she felt, steady and unwavering through the thick haze of smoke and lantern light. In the very back, where the light barely reached, where the smoke curled the thickest—she saw him.

Terry Richmond.

He was leaning against the bar, broad and still, his hat tilted low but not enough to hide the way his bright eyes. He was half-shrouded in shadow, his bright blue gaze cutting through the dim like a knife. He wasn’t drinking, wasn’t talking—just watching.

Her heart skipped a little.

Heat licked up her spine at the intensity of it, but she didn’t let it shake her. She didn’t falter under his gaze. Instead, she let it fuel her, let it shape the way she sang, the way her lips curved around the lyrics, the way she dragged her fingers over the curve of her own waist. If he wanted to look, she was gonna give him something worth looking at.

She kept singing, dragging out the final note, letting it settle over the room like the last flicker of a candle before it goes out. By the time the last note left her lips, the saloon erupted in cheers, men whistling, clapping, stomping their boots against the floor. She gave a slow, knowing smile, dipping into a slight bow before stepping down from the stage.

She didn’t make a show of looking for him, but she knew exactly where she was going.

The moment she reached the bar, a whiskey was already waiting for her—on the house, as always. She took a slow sip, letting the burn settle deep before finally turning, finally meeting his gaze up close. The bar was crowded, but somehow, the space next to Terry was clear. He didn’t look at her right away, just lifted a hand slightly to catch the bartender’s attention. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just looked at her, that same unreadable expression on his face.

“Whiskey?” He asked, voice low, smooth like dark molasses as he gave a small gesture to the glass she already downed. She leaned against the counter, close enough that the edge of her skirt brushed his leg. “You know me too well.” She grinned, already feeling the buzz that the alcohol as giving her. At that, Terry slid a silver coin across the counter, and within seconds, a glass was in front of her. She looked away from him as she took a slow sip, letting the burn settle in her chest. She could feel him watching her, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. That was the thing about Terry—he could say more in a look than most men could in a thousand words.

“You always stare this hard, Richmond?” She asked, looking over at him with a tilt of her head once she had enough of the hard liquor, her voice still thick with the remnants of the song. His lips quirked, just barely, his eyes drifting over her figure. “Only when I like what I see.”

Her stomach flipped at his words, but she kept her expression even, playful. “That so?” She asked, a smirk in her lip and quirk of her brow. “That’s so.” He repeated in confirmation, then kicking his lips. Terry then leaned in just a fraction, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, close enough that she caught the scent of tobacco and cedarwood clinging to his coat.

“So much so.” He murmured, “That I might just have to get my hands on it.” Her breath caught, pulse quickening, but before she could say something sharp, something smart—before she could even decide if she wanted to—Terry’s head tilted slightly, his gaze flickering to the dance floor.

A new song had started.

Something slow. Something meant to be felt more than heard. She barely had time to set her glass down before Terry’s hand slid to her waist.

Without another word, without giving her the chance to refuse, his other hand reached for hers, his grip warm and sure as he led her away from the bar. Her breath hitched. Her heart pounded as she let him pull her into him, his palm settling low against her back. He didn’t ask. Didn’t say a damn word. Just pulled her onto the dance floor.

If he wanted to play with fire, she was more than happy to let him burn.

The moment they stepped into the space, bodies made room for them. Not out of fear, not tonight, but out of knowing. Because everyone in Sugar Cane Creek had eyes. And at that moment, everyone had seen the way Terry Richmond looked at her. The way she looked back.

The tension wrapped around them thick as smoke, curling in the air, pressing against their skin.

Terry moved slow, deliberate, his hand firm at the small of her back, the other clasping hers as he pulled her close—closer than what was proper, closer than what was wise. She let him, her breath shuddering as she settled into him, the warmth of his body seeping into hers. The saloon blurred around them, the lights dim, the chatter distant. None of it mattered. Not when his blue eyes were locked onto hers, not when she could feel the slow drag of his thumb against the back of her hand.

“You dance?” She murmured, her voice teasing, her lips dangerously close to his jaw. She felt him take in a breath with her chest against hers, and if she paused attention, she could’ve sworn she felt the way his heart was beating. “Only when I got reason to.” He answered, his voice a low rumble against her skin. “You given me plenty.” He said, his lips close to her ear as they danced.

She swallowed that his tone so close, heat curling in her belly. “Is that so?”

His fingers flexed against her back, pulling her that last inch closer. His breath, warm and slow, ghosted over her cheek. “Mmhmm.” He hummed with a lick of his lips, the sound causing his body to rumble against hers. She exhaled softly, turning her head just enough that their noses brushed, just enough that if either of them leaned in—just a little—they’d be past the point of no return.

The music swelled, the rhythm thick and slow, wrapping around them like a promise. The way they moved now—close, slow, like something dangerous just beneath the surface—only confirmed what they both had long suspected.

His hand was firm against the small of her back, his other clasping hers as he led her through the steps. It wasn’t a fast dance, nothing rowdy or wild, but it was just as electric. Every turn, every shift, had them pressing together. His breath skimmed the shell of her ear when he leaned in, his grip tightening just enough to let her feel the strength in his arms.

“You always hold a woman this close when you dance?” She whispered, looking up at him through her lashes. Terry’s lips barely curved, his smirk lazy, knowing. “Only when I don’t plan on lettin’ go.” He said, his eyes inspecting every crevice her face had to offer. He didn’t know if he’d bee be this close to her again, and he was taking advantage of the blessing he had to hold her in this way, and gaze at her face as he did.

Her breath hitched.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them blinked.

Lord, the way he watched her. He looked at her as if she was the only thing in the room. Like he was memorizing her in real time. She met his gaze, bold as ever, and let her fingers trail slow up his shoulder, tracing the line of his coat until her nails met the hot skin of his neck. A muscle in his jaw ticked at that. His grip on her waist flexed. They didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

And then, just when she thought he might tip his head and close the space, just when she thought she might lose her damn mind waiting for it—

He pulled her into the next step of the dance, smooth as silk, a satisfied glint in those blue eyes of his. He was teasing her. Daring her.

If he wanted a game, she was more than happy to play.

“Oh, is that how you want to play?” She asked, feigning innocence while her pulse quickened with anticipation.

Terry’s smirk returned, a challenge wrapped in his expression. “You started it, darlin’.” He replied, stepping into her space that was no longer available due to him, their bodies flush against one another. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, lulling her in despite the playful facade they each wore. He controlled their movements with a firm yet gentle lead, the world around them fading as she lost herself in the intensity of his gaze and the cadence of their bodies moving in sync.

She narrowed her eyes, but her smirk was knowing. Two could play that game. She let her body press just a little closer, her curves molding against the hard lines of him, her breath a warm whisper against his cheek. He swallowed, his fingers tightening against her waist, a sharp inhale the only sign of restraint.

She felt it, that slip of control, and it sent something hot through her veins. "Careful, cowboy." She murmured, voice all honey and silk. "You might not want to let go, but I ain't so sure you can handle holdin’ on."

His eyes then darkened. His grip flexed, strong fingers digging into the curve of her waist, keeping her against him like he had no intention of letting her go. Not now. Not ever. Now, Terry didn’t scare easy. Didn’t flinch and didn’t fold to many.

But her?

She was dangerous in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Her voice, all thick honey and slow-drawn silk, wrapped around him, testing, teasing, tempting as it spilling through his ear and ran though his veins like it was his blood. Keeping his heart pumping. He could feel the shape of her, soft and warm against the hard planes of his body, the sway of their dance turning into something far more dangerous, far more intimate.

He leaned in, just enough that his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “You think I can’t handle you?” He asked, his hands drifting lower as he practically engulfed her in his body. She let out a breathy little laugh, conveniently covering the way she took in a sudden breath at his touch, one that made his pulse jump, made his restraint strain at the edges. "Wouldn’t be the first man to try and fail, cowboy.” She whispered to him, her fingers brushing against the nape of his neck, feeling the freshly shaved haircut he had gotten only hours prior.

Terry exhaled through his nose, amused, darkly so.

She was pushing him, daring him. And he welcomed the challenge. So he let his hand slide lower, fingers grazing the base of her spine, just above the curve of her ass, applying the slightest pressure that had her breath catching. She was quick, though. Slipping her arms around his shoulders, she placed her hand on the back of his head, nails scratching ever so lightly. That same muscle in his jaw ticked again.

Her smirk widened.

That was it.

The last frayed thread of his patience snapped.

Without warning, Terry spun her, pressing her back against his front, effectively caging her in. The movement had her chest rising, her lips parting, and damn if that wasn’t the prettiest sight he’d ever seen as he looked down at her. His voice dropped, a low murmur only for her.

"Darlin'..." His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down the side of her neck, lingering at the base of her throat. He could feel her pulse hammering beneath his touch while his other hand rested low on her waist in the front, easing down to a place unimaginable in front of folks. “You’re playin’ with fire." He muttered.

She tilted her chin up, leaning her head back against his chest, gaze smoldering. "Good thing I ain't afraid to burn.” She whispered. And that was all he needed. He quickly spun her around and his mouth was on hers, rough and consuming, his kiss leaving no room for question, no space for anything but him—his hands, his body, the heat of him pressing against every part of her.

She met him with equal fervor, fingers fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, gasping into his mouth when he pressed himself fully against her. The saloon around them might as well have disappeared.

Nothing else existed in that moment. Just him and just her. That and the fire threatening to consume them both.

One moment, they were moving with the rhythm of the music, spinning slow in the dim glow of the saloon lights. The next, he was leading her off the floor, through the press of bodies, past the thick haze of cigar smoke and whiskey-scented air. The second the cool night air hit her skin, she was backed against the wooden frame of the saloon’s outer wall, the rough grain pressing into her spine, his body caging her in.

There was no more teasing, just as there was no more space between them. She barely had time to breathe before his lips found hers again. Slow, at first, like he was still savoring, still memorizing, but the second she sighed against his mouth, the second her fingers slid into his hair and pulled, something broke between them. The kiss turned hungry and deep.

Like he’d been starving for this—for her—for longer than he cared to admit.

She gasped when he gripped her thigh, hitching it up against his hip, pressing her flush against him, making her feel a bulge she that didn't know was his belt buckle, the crease of his jeans or his manhood. Heat coiled between them, urgent and burning, his mouth trailing from her lips to her jaw, down the curve of her neck. She tilted her head, giving him more, losing herself to the feel of him—the weight of his body, the heat of his breath, the quiet growl he let slip when she dragged her nails down his back. "Oh, Terry," She breathed, and damn if he didn’t shudder at the sound of it.

He lifted his head, his forehead pressing against hers, their breath mingling, their bodies still tangled together in the shadows. "I ain’t lettin’ go," He murmured, voice rough, edged with something dangerous. "Not tonight."

She grinned, breathless, running her fingers down the side of his face, feeling the slight roughness of his freshly shaven jaw. "Good." She said before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him to place her lips against her. The kiss lasted for mere seconds, a mash of panting breaths and slick tongues before Terry pulled away. He didn’t say a word before he took her hand, his fingers wrapping firm around hers, rough and warm. He didn’t have to. The look in his eyes, the quiet pull of his grip, said enough.

She followed him back through the saloon, past the clinking glasses and low murmur of conversation, past the haze of cigar smoke still hanging thick in the air. The wooden stairs creaked under their steps as he led her up, slow and steady, his thumb tracing slow circles against her palm like he was trying to keep himself anchored. Or like he was memorizing her touch.

She should’ve felt nervous. Should’ve felt some sense of hesitation as they moved further away from the music, from the people, from any excuse to slow this down.

But she didn’t. All she could focus on was him.

The broad stretch of his shoulders. The slow, deliberate pace of his steps. The way he glanced back at her over his shoulder, his blue eyes dark with something unreadable, something that made her stomach dip and heat coil between her ribs.

They reached his door.

And for a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He just stood there, facing the wood, his breath slow and measured like he was giving himself a second to think—to decide if this was a line he was ready to cross. Then, without a word, he pushed it open. The second they were inside, it changed.

The tension that had been simmering, stretching between them in the dance, in the way he watched her, in every unspoken moment leading up to this—it snapped.

She barely had time to take in the room before she was against the door, her back pressed against the worn wood, her breath stolen by the press of his body. Terry’s lips crashed against hers, no hesitation now, no teasing restraint. He kissed her like he’d been holding back for too damn long, like he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance again, and she felt it all. The hunger. The need. The slow, deep pull of something dangerously close to devotion.

She gasped when his hands—big, warm, calloused from work—spanned her waist, dragging her closer, molding her to him like he needed to feel every inch of her against him. His hands tacked down, bending slightly to gather the bunch of her skirt. He hiked it up, catching a feel of her warm thighs that molded under his grip. The feeling of her hands caused her to moan in his mouth, her hands moving over him feverishly as she was filled heat she was giving her. He didn’t hold back, moving his hands up for the back of her legs and gracing over the smooth skin of her ass. He tightened his grip, needing it and causing her to gasp into his mouth. He took his as an option to slip his tongue deeper, almost sucking on hers while he moved his hands to begin to untie the strings of her corset.

She didn’t hold back either. Her fingers found the buttons of his vest, fumbling with them, her hands eager and desperate to feel the heat of his skin. His breath hitched against her mouth when she dragged the fabric from his shoulders, then she felt the quiet rumble of a chuckle against her lips when she yanked his shirt free and ragged her hands down his ribbed abdomen, impatience getting the best of her.

"So eager.” He murmured against her lips, voice low and teasing.

She narrowed her eyes, nipping softly at his bottom lip with her teeth, her nails grazing down his chest, feeling the sharp inhale he took at the touch. "So are you." She purred.

And he didn’t argue. He didn’t need to.

Instead, he reached back down, cupped her though just under her ass, and lifted her, carrying her further into the room like she weighed nothing at all. She barely had time to register the shift before she felt the softness of the mattress beneath her, his weight pressing her down, his mouth trailing slow, lingering kisses down the column of her throat. His touch was slow and sensual, his hands finding any place to rub and caress. Like he was still memorizing, like he was savoring.

But the moment she whispered his name—breathy and wanting—something shifted again. His slow, deliberate control had snapped.

And neither of them held back anymore.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulled him closer as if she was trying to meld them into one. Terry's breath caught as his bulge hit her core, his hands gripped her tighter, holding her as if he were afraid she might slip away. The world outside faded -no clinking glasses, no murmurs, just the vibrant thud of their hearts battling for attention in the silence between their kisses. Their mouths slid together with a hunger that left her breathless. Every kiss deepened the fire sparking between them, waves of adrenaline crashing over her as she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer as he dipped down to claim her throat once more. He kissed his way down, worshipping her skin with heated touches and soft bites, igniting every nerve ending in her body.

"Tell me what you want.” He murmured against her collarbone, his breath hot against the cool air of the room. “Come on, tell me baby. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” He breathed out. There was something dangerously tender in his rough but needy words, as if he genuinely wanted to know-not just in the heat of the moment, but in that space where everything was laid bare.

She didn't hesitate. "You. All of you. Right here, right now, baby. Give it to me." It was a wild and brisk admission, and a thrill shot through her at the honesty in her voice. She could feel Terry's pulse quicken at her words, a primal urge coursing through him. He raised his head, looking directly into her eyes, and in that moment, she understood. This was more than a fleeting encounter. This was a collision of desires that had been simmering for far too long.

With a sharp intake of breath, he dove back into her mouth, a feverish kiss that stole her thoughts and drowned her in pleasure. She felt the weight of him press into her, his body a delicious contradiction of strength and softness. He paused for the briefest moment to catch her gaze, the heat in his eyes burning deeper than before, and she sensed the shift—not just in the proximity of their bodies, but in the intensity of everything that hung between them.

"Are you sure?" He rasped, pulling back just enough for her to see the uncertainty mingled with desire in his eyes. She could sense it— the weight of the moment, the gravity of their choices. "Absolutely.” She replied, her heart racing with certainty. She reached for him again, pulling him closer, and felt a grin split his face as he dove into her once more, taking her breath and leaving nothing but a breathless gasp in its wake.

Their clothes were off in an instant.

Once her corset was off and the full expanse of her skin was showing, he sucked a nipple into his mouth, his tongue trace the outline of her areola to his heart's content before pulling away to show the other the same attention. He listened to her sigh and smiled. "I love the way you sound." He said before grumbling out her name.

"Yeah?" She sighed, eyes closed as she took in the feeling of his tongue as he licked up her sternum. "I love the way you say my name." She breathed.

"Yeah?" Terry releated as his hands drifted lower in her body. “ I love your body. Your perfect." He paused to place a kiss on her stomach. “Perfect.” Another kiss, this time below her belly button. “Perfect, body.” He finished, his warm breath blowing on her core. His hands moved from her waist, deriding lower to ease her legs apart as he took in the sigh before him. He audibly moaned at the sight, practically drooling as he looked at her. “So fucking pretty.” He whispered. He wanted to taste all she had to offer. Before she could sink in, She placed her hand on his head, pushing his head back. “Wait.” She said.

Terry looked up at her, his large blue eyes dark and blown with lust. “What is it baby?” He asked, licking his lips as his eyes trailed over her form laid out before him. Her eyes sifted away from his stare, biting at her bottom lip before she spoke. “I…I’ve never had a fella go down there before.” She said softly.

Terry’s smirk faded, his expression shifting into something softer, something reverent. He rested his hands on her hips, his thumbs stroking slow and reassuring circles against her skin, before he placed his head on her bender knee. “Ever?” He asked. His voice was quiet, almost disbelieving, but there was no judgment—just understanding, just care. And something a little more that neither of them knew.

She shook her head, eyes darting away, almost shy. “Ain’t never been with a man who wanted to.” She shrugged a bit, still biting at her lower lip.

Terry exhaled sharply, his brows pulling together for the briefest moment, like the thought alone frustrated him. He cupped the side of her thigh, grounding her, making sure she felt him, felt the sincerity in his touch.

“Well.” He said, voice warm and steady, “You got one now.”

Her eyes flickered back to his, searching, cautious. But all she found was certainty. His lips brushed against her skin, his breath warm as he murmured, “You just tell me what feels good, darlin’. I got you. I just want you to play back. You ain’t gotta worry no more.” He said, his voice going back into the deep ruble that set her ablaze. And the way he said it—so sure, so gentle—made something deep in her chest tighten. Because she believed him.

So that’s what she did, ladies back against the pillows and open her legs further, barring it all and offering it to him. And Terry took it with life, gratitude, as well as pure lust. Like a magnet, Terry's fingers found their way to her slick lips as he gathered wetness before dragging his skilled digits around her clit. Her breath audibly hitched from the contact, making him chuckle before he pressed his lips against her plump thigh, squeezing with the other hand. Slow circles, maddeningly slow and gentle enough to feel like nothing at all had her willing to agree to just about anything to get off.

He then lunged forward with hunger, letting his tongue do all the talking, slithering inside of her warm walls as his nose nudged her clit. She tensed up with every nudge, let out small pants at the unfamiliar yet raviging feeling that washed over her. He glanced down, watching as he freely put his face in her center. He made it messy enough to admire when he pulled his mouth off of her, her pussy glistening like he just doused her in oil.

"Ohh, look at you, baby.” The grumble that came deep from within his throat as he watched her cute clenched around nothing as she continued to whine from the loss of contact from above. And his green eyes on her most intimate parts made it so hard not to get hot and bothered even with him not doing anything. Her poor nub was jumping with excitement as he used his large fingers to spread her lips open. “Look who’s happy to see me." He said as he took in a sharp breath, feeling her slick coating his fingers, the sound of her wetness loud within the room. “You happy to see me, hun? Huh?“ He questioned, looking up at her.

She moan and nodded eagerly, bringing her hand to cover her mouth at the stimulation he was giving her down under. Terry smiled at that, sharp teeth flashing from under his lips. He tried to keep his eyes on hers, looking into her large orbs that were filled with pleasure and a slight sheen of tears at his touch, but her pussy that just kept sucking his fingers in had him in a trance as his sick standing at attention in his underwear. “Tell me you’re happy I’m down here. Making you feel so good.” He demanded. His tone didn’t leave anymore for defiance, which she took as she angered him. “I’m so happy you’re here, Terry. You feel so good, baby.” She whined out as best as she could, breaths short and rocked her hips into his fingers.

"Mmm, yeah, I know.” Terry grinned. “When the last time sometime touched you, huh?" He asked, but this time he got no response watching as she began to reach her high and feeling her clench around his finger. Tweeting pulled his hand back at that, causing the woman to whine at the loss of contact. “Tell me, hun, and we can continue.” He said.

"I-I don't remember.” She said, and she was telling the truth, she truly couldn't. It had to be nothing worth remembering, especially in comparison to what he was making her feel now.

"Well, I’m gon’ make sure you remember this, hear" He then bent down to deliver a bite to her plush thigh, almost as if he was warning her for what's to come before he dove his face back into her heat, slurping at her hard and soaked clit. Her belly was doing summersaults, she could barely contain her volume at the feeling of his long and warm muscle working a magic she’s never felt before. But her sounds were the last of his worries, they were actually only fuel to his already burning fire.

As he ate, he made noise. He moaned, grunted, groaned in her, letting he know and feel that he was having just as much fun as she was.

Her legs had began to shake the longer he was down there, her hands gripping onto the white sheets of the inn bed since that was all she had to hold on to after he practically ripped her’s and his clothes off beforehand.

"Yes! Yes, oh, yes! I'm so close, Terry baby.” She struggled to keep her eyes on him even with his staring back up at her over her pudge, his eyes low lidded and dark. They beckoned her to stay, to not go levee the edge just yet, but her pleasure had came rolling through like a monsoon and wiped all the thoughts from her brain. She was a shaking, blubbering mess under his weight as he continued to lick and eat at her juices. He moved his mouth away from her pussy only to replace it with his hand, rubbing her clit in tight circles as he subconsciously moved her hips.

"Just feel it, baby. Let it happen.” He cooed in that sexy country drawl. She tried to fight against his hand, her thighs subconsciously closing around his wrist. But he smacked his large hand into her juicy thighs and kept at it with his other hand until he felt like he was done. "Be still and met it happen, baby." He cooed, enticing another moan from the woman. She felt like she was literally about to float up into the heavens, her back arching up off of the couch just to get away from the overstimulation.

"Okay! Oh, Fuck!" She screamed. “Yes, Terry!” He moved his hand to allow her to go through the motions, watching as she twitched until that special feeling left her center. "Good job, baby.” He said, pressing a soft kiss on her thighs. “Good job, my pretty girl." Another kiss from him was placed beside her opened mouth as heavy breathing left as he moved up her body.

As the tremors faded from her body, she lay there, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim lights of the room. Her limbs felt weightless, boneless, as if she’d melted right into the bed.

Terry was still there, right where he had been, his hands firm on her thighs, holding her steady like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. He pressed slow, lingering kisses to the inside of her knee, then another, trailing up, as if savoring the aftermath.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found him watching her, his expression unreadable at first—like he was memorizing her in this moment, like he was trying to etch the sight of her pleasure into his bones. A slow, lazy smirk then tugged at his lips. “Ain’t never seen somethin’ so damn pretty.” His voice was rough, thick with satisfaction, but there was something else there too. Something deeper.

She let out a breathless laugh, her fingers finding their way into his hair, rubbing lightly. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, cowboy.” She smirked. Terry hummed with chortle, leaning into her touch, his hands sliding up to rest at her waist as he crawled up beside her. “Ain’t about makin’ you feel special.” He murmured against her skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You already are.”

Her breath hitched, her heart fluttering in her chest at the way he said it—so simple, so certain. She turned her head to look at him, finding those piercing blue eyes already on her, unwavering. And for a moment, neither of them spoke. There was no need to.

Instead, she reached for him, guiding his face to hers, and kissed him slow—letting him feel exactly how much she believed him. She slowly came back to herself with her lips attached to his, still basking in the warmth of his touch. She let her fingers trail down his chest, her nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his briefs. She could feel the way his breath hitched, bus bulge rubbing against her. The tension still coiled tight in his body despite the easy way he lay beside her.

A slow smirk pulled at her lips as she traced top of his boxers, slipping her hand into them with practiced ease. “Reckon I should return the favor.” She murmured, her voice soft, teasing.

But before she could go any further, Terry’s hand caught hers—not rough, not forceful, just firm enough to stop her in place. She looked up, brows furrowing in confusion, but the look in his eyes made her pause. “Ain’t about that.” He said quietly, his voice still thick, still warm, but full of something deeper. He squeezed her fingers, rubbing slow circles into the back of her hand. “You just came down from somethin’ real intense, darlin’. I just wanna hold you right now.”

She blinked at him, caught off guard by his words, by the tenderness in them. “Terry, I—”

“I know.” He gave her a small, lazy smile, shifting so he could pull her closer against him. “We got time for all that. Just… let me have this. Let me have you right here in this exact moment. We might not ever get it again.”

And the way he said it, like holding her in his arms was just as much of a pleasure as anything else, sent something warm through her chest. The way he already planned for this to be something more made her body flutter in a way only he can make happen. She sighed, settling against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. “That’s my good girl.” He said before placing a kiss on her warm skin.

And with that, they stayed there, tangled up in each other, letting the night stretch out slow and easy.

@kneelarmhstrung @winorlosetogether @joshuafatubaee

@becauseimswagman1 @nubiagurlll @gwenda-fav

@susanhill @sIvt4her @cryotrain @fakxmbj j

@wayytoocooll @brattyfics @brownskin-bratz @alonahh

@kaylalb @blackpinup22 @xjjawsomex @borednblk

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[charliemwrites]

Part 5 of Mister(s) Steal Your Girl

Long awaited, but no Johnny smut just yet. Soon, I promise. (And Kyle will be back. It's been so long since he's gotten to smooch our dear reader.)

Also! A little reminder than you can check the queue to see what I plan to post for next. I try to update it often as the worms wiggle. Next I plan to do the final chapter of Greater Bad. (Unless I get my not-so-secret, no-longer-a-surprise oneshot out first)

Lastly! Please note that I wrote the "posts" from his perspective. So inconsistencies with the actual story and any grammar/spelling errors were purposeful or for "authenticity".

Content: Brandon.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ I asked my fiancé for an open relationship before marriage. It worked. A while ago I posted on r/adultery about the affairs (yes, multiple) I was having behind my then-gf’s back. We’d already been dating for ~4 years and I was seeing one of my coworkers (my “work wife”) regularly and one of her coworkers on and off. People on my other post were critical and called me all sorts of things like selfish and pig. I know it’s not traditional, but I genuinely don’t think I could ever be satisfied by one woman. My work wife (Rachel) and fiance’s coworker (Lucy) provide things my fiancé just can’t but I still love my fiancé. She’s the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. When I posted on r/adultery I was trying to figure out how to propose without her finding out. I knew she’d expect me to help with stuff and possibly want to look at my phone more often. It would have been harder to sneak off to meet up with Lucy or Rachel with wedding planning and I was sick of being stressed she would find out. Some nicer people on the post suggested I ask for an open relationship. I took their advice and sat her down to sell the idea. It’s a good thing I’m so good at sales (top 3% in my company for 5 years in a row) because she agreed. Yes, actually agreed. At first she got kind of pale and her eyes got really big and blank. I thought for sure she was about to start crying and run off. Maybe even kick me out. She doesn’t really get angry but she gets upset and it freaks me out. After I explained everything about how good it would be for us though, she agreed. This is my official unlimited hallpass. I’ve been seeing Rachel on weekends and Lucy once or twice during the week for drinks. Tonight I’m going to sign up for every dating site I can. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge. If anyone has other suggestions, I’ll check those out too. Fiance has been kind of off but I think it’s just an adjustment period. Sometimes I can tell she’s been crying but she hasn’t come to me about it so she’s probably just being emotional about all the changes. At least she’s got our house to focus on while she gets used to things. I feel a little bad about running out every night but she’s just so mopey and sad all the time and it’s not enjoyable to be around. I know she probably feels like I’m abandoning her a little but once she starts getting back to normal I’ll spend time with her again. You really can have your cake (all the cakes heh) and eat them too. Edit: no, I never told her that I already had Lucy and Rachel and I’m not going to. What good would it do? She’s already agreed to an open relationship and telling her that I didn’t have permission first would just hurt her for no reason.

Kyle’s been gone for two (long, lonely) weeks when he finally gets a chance to call. So far, he’s only been able to send scattered texts at odd hours. Always something sweet – telling you he’s alright, or that he’s thinking of you. Sometimes you even catch him for a brief exchange before he apologizes and “goes dark” again.

Not that you begrudge it. This is part and parcel of dating him and you knew that going in. You’re not complaining when he’s putting his life on the line so that the public can live in blissful peace.

That doesn’t stop you from missing him though. His hugs, his smile. Getting his voice - even roughened by distance - is a nice compromise though.

“How have you been holding up, chickadee?” he asks after the initial reassurance that he’s whole and hale. 

“Easier this time!” you answer proudly. “I know what to expect with you gone and Johnny’s good company.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sounding pleased.

You can just imagine him now, leaning his hip against the nearest surface, arms crossed over his broad chest. He tends to duck his head when he smiles, and you unintentionally grin to yourself, thinking of him hiding into his phone. God, you miss him. 

“Mhmm! We found a board game bar that you’re going to love. Oh, and we’re going to the Hay Festival this weekend.”

He hums. “I’m sorry I can’t be there to take you, luv, but I knew Johnny would be good to you.”

More than good to you, really. There’s not been a day he doesn’t call to check up on you - if he doesn’t see you in person, that is. Dinner, movies, coffee. He’s somehow both a gentleman and an incorrigible flirt, but only with you. He’s nothing more than polite to anyone else, keeping his focus on you and whatever the two of you are doing.

You don’t know what to do with the undivided attention. If you didn’t know better…

“You two are getting close,” Kyle observes.

“I think so,” you admit, then hesitate. “Is… that okay?”

“��Course, luv. I’m glad.”

You blink. “You are?”

“He’s my best mate and you’re my best girl.”

An odd pang of anxiety pierces your chest. Johnny calls you that too. His “best girl.” You love hearing it - but maybe you shouldn’t?

“It… doesn’t bother you? That we’re spending so much time together.”

He snorts softly, but it’s not derisive. It’s a noise he makes whenever he thinks you’re being silly, but his voice comes out soft and warm. Not an ounce of condescension.

“No, baby, I’m not fussed. You spend your time with whoever you want, however you want. Yeah?”

Your chest floods with warmth. “Okay.”

“There’s a love. I’ve got a brief, so I have to go. I’ll call soon as I can.”

“Be safe, Ky.”

“Do my best. Give Soap a smooch for us, aye?”

You blink as he hangs up. That’s a new one.

You ponder over it while packing on Thursday night. Was it just a joke? A tease at the little crush you’ve developed for Johnny?

Because it is a crush, you know it is. It’s impossible not to be attracted to him. Not with that smile, that laugh, the goofy humor and sweet mannerisms. He still sends you flowers every few weeks - just as the previous ones are about to die. It’s so thoughtful; you’ve started feeling a bit warm every time you look at them.

But you feel greedy, being even remotely interested in anyone else. You have Kyle and Brandon (even if you two are going through a… patch) and that should be enough for you. Shouldn’t it? You’ve never been with more than one person at a time before; it took you weeks to shake the compulsory guilt when you first met Kyle. It feels almost unforgivably audacious to want Johnny too, especially since he’s Kyle’s best mate.

Still… Kyle’s not a jealous or passive-aggressive guy. You’ve been with him long enough now that you know he’d just tell you outright if he was unhappy about something. And he’s been with you long enough that he can surely tell you’re more than a bit fond of Johnny.

Maybe that’s why he made the joke about “smooching” him.

Regardless, you want to talk to him about it. Things always make sense when you think out loud to him. His levelheaded and practical approach to difficult topics always straightens your panic spirals out into neat lines.

Plus, it’s not as comforting to hold your own hand. (God, when is he getting back?)

“Where are you going?”

You blink up at Brandon, folded pajamas in hand.

“The Hay Festival,” you answer.

Speaking of - you slip past him into the bathroom. He doesn’t follow, rooted to the spot spinning his phone around in his hands.

“Alone?”

You snort. “Of course not, I’m going with a friend.”

The allergy pills are at the bottom of the medicine basket beneath the sink. You really need to organize it the next time Johnny’s too busy to hang out. There’s no way you need three bottles of paracetamol. 

“I need that suitcase.”

You toss the bottle in and pivot for the dresser. “What for?”

He shifts, eyes sliding away. “An… overnight.”

Ah. That’s what he’s calling it now?

You snatch a few (too many) pairs of underwear from the dresser.

“Just bring them here,” you say over your shoulder.

There’s a long, tense beat of silence but you’re too busy rummaging for socks to break it first. Will it be too warm for thigh-highs? Eh, you’ll go with the sheer ones; the little lace roses match one of your dresses anyway.

“Bring who here?” Brandon asks slowly.

When you turn, he looks paler than usual. You shrug, trying to project casual comfort.

This is a totally normal and reasonable conversation to have. Just a couple in an open relationship, discussing a stranger coming to the house for a shag. Nothing to make a fuss over.

“Whoever you need the suitcase for? I know you’ve had people over before anyway, and I’ll be gone all weekend.”

He stutters, color returning to his face in bright pink blooms. “Why do you think I’ve had people over before?”

You arch an eyebrow. “I do the laundry, remember? And there was lipstick on one of the wine glasses.”

That had sent you into a tizzy at the time, disgusted that some stranger was in your bed, with your fiancé. You washed the sheets twice on the hottest setting and tossed in a bit of bleach for good measure. Hadn’t been able to look at him the whole week - not that he was there much to not look at.

Now, though, you seem to have adjusted to the idea, even if you’re still not thrilled. Brandon can have his… whoever over, and you’ll goof around with Johnny in Wales.

“Just toss the bedding in the wash afterwards,” you add.

“I thought you do the laundry,” he sniffs.

“I’m not traveling all day just to do chores when I get home,” you answer. He does a double take like you’ve started speaking a new language. “You’ll be here all weekend, I’m sure you’ll have time.”

He opens his mouth, and you can tell already that he’s about to argue - though you don’t really know what about. It’s not like he can’t do laundry or dishes, after all. He lived alone before you moved in together.

Thankfully, his phone distracts him before he can form the words. He spins away to tap at the screen and shuffles out of the room, shoulders till tense. You go back to packing and teasing Johnny about the amount of hair gel he’ll bring.

Friday afternoon can’t come fast enough. Even though you’ve taken a half day from work, the few hours seem to drag. You’re practically daydreaming about the food and drinks, music and activities. There’s a baker’s dozen art stalls you want to check out as well, and a gift to pick out for Kyle…

“Hope yer thinkin’ o’ me when ye make tha’ face.”

Your head snaps around so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. Johnny grins down at you in all his casually handsome glory – ripped jeans, green tee, and brown boots. Angels are singing somewhere, you think. Or maybe that’s just your nosy coworkers ogling from their own cubicles.

The reality of him sinks in a moment later and you leap up from your cushy chair – and right into his arms. He’s like a furnace compared to the cool, conditioned air of your office, a welcome source of warmth for your chilly fingers.

“What are you doing here?” you giggle. “Who let a rowdy guy like you in?”

He smells like bergamot and pine. It takes active thought to resist pressing your face into the crook of his neck. It looks cozy there.

As always, he squeezes you a bit tighter just before letting go.

“Hey now, Marcy’s a discerning lady. She knows a fine gentleman when she sees one.”

You snort, belied by the smile curling your lips. “She may need new glass then.”

“Och, don’t go talkin’ poor about my second-best gal now.”

“Is it that easy to get in your good graces?” you scoff, glancing at the time on your computer. It’s later than you expected; no wonder he came up to retrieve you. You spent so long daydreaming that you’ve lost track of time.

“Aw don’ be green, dove, you’re still my number one. Send ye flowers ‘n all.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, and now I’m wondering just how special that is.”

He stands close, proclaiming his case for how obviously special you are while you shut everything down for the weekend. You’re only half listening to the bit, admittedly. Mostly just basking in your excitement for the mini road trip and the weekend to come. You have no doubt that it’s going to be fun, even if it would be better with Kyle along too.

“Where are you headed off to?” Lucy asks.

“Hay Festival,” you answer shortly.

You’ve never been a big fan of Lucy, but lately she’s been insufferable. Talking over you during meetings, leaving you out of emails, throwing away papers at the printer. (Okay, you haven’t seen her do that last one, but you know.) Worst of all, she can help but make backhanded comments about every flower delivery.

“You’re not taking Brandon?” she simpers. “Something wrong?”

“He’s hanging out with a friend this weekend too,” you correct, “and he doesn’t like hay.”

“Shame that,” Johnny adds, sounding like it’s not a shame at all.

You haven’t told him much about Brandon – but you’re sure that Kyle has. From the face Johnny makes the rare times your fiancé comes up in conversation, he doesn’t think much of Brandon.

“Have fun you two!” your manager, Selene, calls.

You wave and shoot Lucy one last, unimpressed glance before stepping onto the elevator with Johnny.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ My fiancé is going on a weekend getaway with another man. I’ve posted in r/adultery and r/cakeeater before. I’m not looking for judgement or insults here. I really just want advice.

A little context: my fiancé and I are in an open relationship and it’s been like this for a few months now. I originally asked her to ope the relationship and for a while she was weird about it but lately she’s been getting sbetter. I thought she was finally getting used to me going out with other women and things were getting back to normal.

A few weeks ago, I noticed she was on her phone more. Like, all the time. Even at dinner when she used to be really picky about phones at the table. One day I came home from work and she was talking on the phone to someone. Giggling and laughing. When I turned the corner she was kind of blushing too. It kind of bothered me but I figured she was talking to a friend and just hot from cooking or something.

Lucy texted me pissed off one day, asking why I was sending my fiancé flowers but not her. I told her I hadn’t sent any flowers. I think they’re way too expensive for how long they realistically last and that they take up a lot of unnecessary space. But I thought it was weird that someone was sending my fiancé flowers and got kind of uncomfortable. That’s a pretty romantic gesture and her family isn’t the type to randomly send flowers either.

I tried taking her out on a date but she was all mopey again and turned her phone to ‘do not disturb’ so I wouldn’t even see if she was texting someone. We don’t have much to talk about now. I love her but she’s not a good storyteller or into very interesting things. All her ‘funny stories’ are just mundane things that happen during the day. We’ve run out of interesting topics about because we’ve been together so long. (That’s why I like having more than one partner.)

Yesterday she randomly started packing for a trip. I don’t even think she was planning to tell me until I asked her. She was packing a bunch of cute clothes too. Like dresses and tights and things like that. Stuff she only used to wear on our dates. I asked who she was going with and she just said ‘a friend’ which is weird because she would usually say the name of someone even if I don’t remember who they are.

Well today Lucy sent me a picture of my fiancé leaving her job with some guy. I couldn’t see his face because he was turned away, but I could see the side of my fiancé’s face and she was smiling at him. I got this awful sinking feeling in my chest like it was hard to breathe. It took me a few minutes to process that she’s going away for a weekend with a complete stranger.

Doesn’t she know how dangerous that is? Where did she even meet this guy? They’ll be gone all weekend so are they sharing a room? A bed? I nearly threw up thinking all these things as I called her.

I asked her to cancel her plans and come home. She seemed confused and reminded me that her plans were with someone else and it would be rude to ditch last minute. I told her I wanted to spend the weekend with her and that I’d been missing her. She seemed surprised and said that she’d see me on Sunday night, but she was looking forward to the festival with her ‘friend’ and wanted to go. As a last ditch effort I asked if her friend was more important than me, nearly begging at that point. She must have heard the desperation in my voice, but she just told me that she was already on the road and it was too late.

My fiancé doesn’t like lying but it’s hard to believe this guy was just a friend. Even if she sees him as a friend I know how men think and I doubt he sees her the same way.

She said some other weird stuff before she left about having someone over while she was gone. I don’t get it. How could she just casually invite someone else into our house like that? Has she had other people over? Is she dating now?

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t like that she put this trip over me. Should I talk to her about how bad this makes me feel? Should I call again and tell her to come home more forcefully? Am I blowing all of this out of proportion?

Edit: she doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing Lucy. I haven’t told my fiancé about any of the women I’ve been seeing. (mostly just Lucy and Rachel. I’ve done a lot of texting through apps and gone on a bunch of first place, but most women don’t put out right away and I usually can’t be bothered to get to know them better). Even then, I wouldn’t tell her about lucy. They don’t get along and never have. It would cause a lot of unnecessary drama.

First | Previous | TBC... Masterlist

[chaosartic]

His sunshine | LN4

word count: 0.5k words

warnings: fluff, bad writing

summary: Just a random lazy morning with Lando during the off season.

a/n: I finally did it, here is my first fic! Please note that english is not my first language and while I tried my best there are probably some spelling/grammar errors.

The sunlight of the early morning was already streaming through the partially closed curtains. Lando and y/n are curled up in bed, still asleep. With Landos career it was rare that the pair got to sleep in and enjoy their morning together.

Lando stirred a bit slowly waking up. His arms tightened around her holding her even closer to his chest, his sunshine. She got the nickname from Carlos shortly after they started dating. No matter what was going on, she always had a smile on her face and that smile was contagious. It didn’t take long for the rest of the grid and Lando to adopt the given nickname as well.

“Morning love” he said into her hairline, voice rough with sleep and low on the volume. He pressed a few kisses to her cheek and head. Deep in his heart Lando lived for these early quiet mornings with her. If anyone would ask him though he would deny it.

She turned around in her sleep, slowning waking up as well. Her head pressed against his chest when he mumbled a morning back to him while leaving a kiss right above his heart. “Do you have anything planned today?” She asked him.

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, “Not really. Maybe stream later with Max.” He told her while pulling her closer to his chest. A gush of cold air came through the slightly opened window, the mornings are cold despite all the sunshine recently.

“Mhm” she hummed, snuggling closer into his embrace. She adored the time they had together like this. With him being away so much during the year for his career both of them learned to appreciate and take in small moments like this.

“Let's just stay like this for a little bit longer,” Lando said while looking at her eyes. “Please baby.” He added. She nodded her head more than happy with his idea of staying in bed and enjoying this.

That’s how they spend their morning. Cuddled up together, kissing each other lazily from time to time and just forgetting the rest of the world.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I hope you enjoy it! Any feedback is appreciated!

Also I have some writing ideas for Oscar, George and Carlos. Let me know which one you want to have first. Request are also open if anyone is interested and has ideas.

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPRADA FW25 * MATT STURNIOLO * INSTAGRAM

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N goes to the Prada FW25 show with the triplets and enjoy Milan with her boyfriend, Matt.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x prada model!reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

liked by sturniolofan1, matthew.sturniolo, ynfan72 and 1,528 others

people Supermodel Y/N L/N spotted today in Milan!

view all 3,065 comments

username wait you're lying??? she's actually there???

username IS SHE GOING TO THE PRADA SHOW OMG PLS

username lmaoooooo i see you hiding in the likes matt

username it’s so cute that he's always following her activities 🥹🥹

username she's so freaking gorgeous how's that possible???

username PRADA GIRL IN MILAN?? SHES SO MOTHER RN

username nah bc how can someone look this good just walking???

username I so hope that she comes back to the runways on prada's next woman's show 😔

username I'm obsessed omg omg omg

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liked by lilamoss, matthew.sturniolo, sturniolo.triplets and 11,628 others

ynsinstagram milano, your queen is here 🇮🇹🤌🏻

tagged: matthew.sturniolo

view all 3,065 comments

username um so like you’re actually perfect

username ughhhhh milan is so beautiful 😭

→ username ikr?? I dream of going there someday

username my jaw dropped but I'm happy about it

matthew.sturniolo love the shirt

→ ynsinstagram really??? it's my face in there 🥺

⤷ matthew.sturniolo actually I was talking about MY face in there

⤷ username I LOVE THEM LMAO 😭😭

username NO WAY, IS THAT REALLY MATT????

→ username OBVIOUSLY ???? the guy follow his girl everywhere 😭

⤷ username it's so crazy to think that he's in Italy right now

username matt flew to MILAN for his girl?? boyfriend of the year award goes to him fr

username you're everything mama, I adore you etc etc, but also like... MATT IS IN MILAN?? AS IN MY CITY???

username THIS IS Y/N'S WORLD AND WE'RE JUST LIVING IN IT

christophersturniolo 🏰🤌🏻🥧😱

→ ynsinstagram I agree, king 🙌🏻

username are nick and chris also there?

→ username I don't think they're (?)

→ username probably... this week is gonna happen the prada FW25 show, maybe she's in Milan to go there? her being the face of prada and all

⤷ username this actually makes super sense

username where Y/N is, fashion is following 🙌🏻

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liked by sturniolo.triplets, ynsinstagram, prada and 8,528 others

matthew.sturniolo this is what happens when you date a supermodel, they make you look cool by association

tagged: ynsinstagram

view all 3,925 comments

username damn god really out here choosing favorites

username he loves her your honour

username matt's milan era is just him third-wheeling Y/N and the camera

→ username FRRR!!! that girl looks amazing in every picture 😭😭

christophersturniolo bro really said I'm a prada boy now

→ ynsinstagram and he's slaying it 💅🏻

username sir, how does it feel to be living half of the world's dream?

→ matthew.sturniolo unreal

username nah bc prada matt is actually gonna break the internet rn

ynsinstagram you're cooler 🫵🏻🤍

→ matthew.sturniolo impossible

username this is the most unexpected collab but I'm OBSESSED

username HE LOOKS SO GOOD IN PRADA LIKE HELLO????

nicolassturniolo how do you pull a supermodel and still look like you can't spell milan?

→ matthew.sturniolo I think you mixed the triplet

⤷ christophersturniolo what's that supposed to mean???

username I'm SO sure that Y/N influenced matt 100% to buy prada stuff

username and now everyone say THANK YOU Y/N 🙏🏻

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liked by sturniolo.triplets, matthew.sturniolo, ynsinstagram and 6,279 others

gettyimages MILAN, ITALY - 19TH JANUARY. The Sturniolo's arrive at the Prada fashion show during Milan Menswear Fall/Winter 2025.

tagged: sturniolo.triplets

view all 3,624 comments

username WHAT THE FUCK

username what do you mean they're aLL IN THAT PRADA SHOW???? am I dreaming?

username omg omg omg omg shut up right now this is EVERYTHING

username PRADA KINGS 🙏🏻🙏🏻

→ username Y/N being their prada queen 🙏🏻

username I'm so so proud of them 😭

username fuck matt is looking amazing in all black 🫦🫦

username WHERE’S Y/N??????

→ matthew.sturniolo that's a good question

⤷ username LMAO 😭 noticed by matt being ironic

username can't wait to see them in the front row

username weren't they in boston just yesterday? 😭😭 things happen so fast omg

username they're the moment guys ✋🏻✋🏻

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liked by matthew.sturniolo, bellahadid, kendalljenner and 17,279 others

ynsinstagram MILANO IS PRADA @/prada

tagged: prada

view all 8,624 comments

username fashion princess is living the dream so happy for her 😭🙏🏻

username mommy- sorry... mommy- sorry... MOTHER

kendalljenner you are GLOWING 😍

→ ynsinstagram love you, ken 🤍

username THE FACE OF PRADA ARRIVES, EVERYONE ELSE CAN GO HOME

prada prettiest

→ ynsinstagram 🖤

username she is literally making the streets of milan her runway rn

username stop, you're making me wish that she comes back to the runways 😭😭

matthew.sturniolo nah bc how does someone look THIS good just stepping out of a car?? unreal

nicolassturniolo stop drooling

username prada is lucky to even exist while Y/N is wearing it tbh

bellahadid it's giving movie from the 50s

→ ynsinstagram STOP I LOVE THIS

username icon of the century

username here, take my whole house if you want

username 💳💳💳

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

liked by ynsinstagram, matthew.sturniolo and 3,528 others

prada Y/N L/N and the Sturniolo Triplets attend the Prada FW25 Menswear Show in Milan, at the Fondazione Prada's Deposito.

tagged: ynsinstagram, sturniolo.triplets

view all 665 comments

username nick, chris, and matt are living every fan's dream rn just casually at PRADA with Y/N

→ username idk who I want to be tbh 😫

username ughh they look so powerful wtf

username the fact that prada is literally being carried by THEM rn 😫😫

username Y/N's outfit is literally what dreams are made of

→ username ikr??? so angel coded

username can we talk about how matt's whole outfit is lowkey giving runway vibes?? boyfriend is LEVELING UP

→ username and for that we say THANK YOU Y/N 🙌🏻

username Y/N's accessories alone probably cost more than my whole apartment but like... worth it 😃

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liked by rosiehw, matthew.sturniolo, haileybieber and 14,528 others

ynsinstagram cause i love to love, to love, to love you 🤍

tagged: matthew.sturniolo

view all 7,365 comments

matthew.sturniolo that guy's pretty handsome

→ ynsinstagram very :) and an amazing photographer too

⤷ matthew.sturniolo with a muse like you, I have no doubts

⤷ username PARENTS ARE FLIRTING ‼️

username MY ROMAN EMPIRE

username how can you both be so damn hot?!

username they're the IT couple

username the way she's casually flexing that matt does her cartier for her like we're not all crying rn 😭

username he's so boyfriend material fuck 😭

nicolassturniolo cool pics and all, but where's my invite to the pasta tho?

→ ynsinstagram as if you didn't obligated us to bring some for you

⤷ username LMAO 😭😭 this is so nick coded

username EVERYONE PAUSE

username I want what these bitches have ;(

username she's truly one of the most beautiful women i've ever seen 😭

username omg he was taking pics of her??

→ ynsinstagram yes 😁

→ matthew.sturniolo always!

⤷ username WTF- HIIIII

⤷ username YOU'RE BOTH SO CUTE STOP

username why am I crying in the club rn

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liked by ynsinstagram, nathandoe8, tarayummyy and 12,588 others

matthew.sturniolo pizza in italy just hits different

tagged: ynsinstagram

view all 3,745 comments

username are yall breathing ok??

→ username no, actually going to the hospital rn

username bro went from youtube videos in sweatshirts to prada boy real quick

→ username AND I'M SO HERE FOR ITTTT

→ username don't you dare insult his sweatshirts 😔😔

nicolassturniolo matt driving in italy? 😱😱😱

→ matthew.sturniolo I can actually drive everywhere when I have a license, yk?

⤷ username clocked out 😭

username Y/N give me a chance pls pls pls

username fourth pic is peak boyfriendism 😭

username sooooooo dreamy omg I need this

username luckiest boy on the planet

→ ynsinstagram luckiest girl*

⤷ matthew.sturniolo nah, I win on that note, no one is luckier than me

⤷ username whipped

ynsinstagram 🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕

→ matthew.sturniolo 🍕🍕🍕🍕

⤷ username best conversation ever

username I NEED IT I NEED IT

username matt's prada era AND his soft boyfriend era at the same time???

→ username and we all say THANK YOU Y/N 🙌🏻🙌🏻

tarayummyy every time you post her, my heart grows three sizes ;((( stop being so perfect

→ username we love a supportive bestie 😔

ynsinstagram italy has my heart and so do you, mio amato 🤍

→ matthew.sturniolo I promise I'm keeping it safe here 🖤

⤷ username I'm gonna throw up- THIS IS SO CUTE SHUT THE FUCK UP

username Y/N taking a picture of matt taking a picture of her 🙏🏻🙏🏻

© vanteguccir

[sumiieon]

✦ Chiming Bell ノ MODERN! High school hcs with the Chrysos Heir because I love them so much ⸝⸝ gn reader ⸝⸝ wc: 1780 ✦ Note ; The usual grammar error and spelling mistakes warning ⸝⸝ if they come across as ooc then I apologize because I'm still not very confident in my ability of writing HSR characters haha ⸝⸝ This can be interpreted as both romantic and platonic as your liking! ⸝⸝ will probably edit out some mistakes ⸝⸝ I'm very sorry for not including Hyacine TT

♡ Phainon ⸝⸝ I feel like he's kind of a jock BUT also not a jock. Like, he's not THOSE jocks that get angry at you if you cannot catch the ball that is beaming at 1000 mph to your face. ⸝⸝ Those popular kids that are actually super nice to everyone. I feel like he doesn't judge people much and if he does dislike someone, will not rub it in their face unless they deserve to. ⸝⸝ Basically just a ray of sunshine. Definitely has Mydei as his seatmate and I just imagine Phainon walking into class greeting everyone every morning and then Mydei is just sitting there massaging his temple, wondering how he's so bright this early. ⸝⸝ While he's generally super nice, I think Phainon is also pretty mischievous though. I can already imagine him getting into some light troubles and then having to sweep the hallway as a punishment LMAO. ⸝⸝ Probably enjoys learning history and literature, he just gets super sleepy and perhaps bored in them. Decent at math but HORRIBLE at science like chemistry. Phainon comes up to Mydei as lab partner and Mydei prays the two of them don't get involved in any sorts of explosion or chemical accident /j ⸝⸝ When Phainon is pinning on you, he will 100% turn into a golden retriever. Follows you around in a non-creepy way, helps you carry stuff, probably tries tutoring you the best he could, sometimes ask to have lunch together and then drags you to the rest of his friends. ⸝⸝ Gets super shy about it and it didn't escape his friends. Also gets not bullied but teased a lot for it, when you walked past them far enough, I feel like most likely Mydei would go "holy shit is that Phainon's lover walking past by just now?!" ⸝⸝ When he announced that the two of you are dating to his friends, they would hold their pearl necklace and pretend like they're shocked (except it's so purposefully exaggerated it's hilarious wow Phainon you're so slick!) ♡ Aglaea ⸝⸝ I hc'd that the Chrysos Heir is basically akin to the Student Council in the modern world, so expect no less that Aglaea is definitely the president or at the VERY least the vice president. ⸝⸝ That one strict classmate who always looks her best and behaves the best too. Probably a class president or rep too?? Would reprimand her classmates or the other students to mind both their attire and attitude. ⸝⸝ Teacher's pet, except she's one that you can't really walk over or trample. Girl just has that aura in her for not only being smart but also beautiful?!?! (My GOAT Aglaea as always) ⸝⸝ Looks scary at first glance, but if you need her help with studying she would help say no more! That one meme that goes like "would you let me copy your homework?" "no, but I'll help you with it" ⸝⸝ This may sound pretty personal and specific but hc that she excels and enjoys public speaking. Her words and articulations are probably amazing if you get what I mean... ⸝⸝ Honestly, if she is pinning on you? Nobody would pretty much find out about it unless she personally said so. I'm sorry but Aglaea strikes off to me as the type to be super good at hiding aka slick with her feelings for someone. (Ironically for being the bearer of Mnestia's coreflame in lore lol) ⸝⸝ So when she told her friends that you two are dating, their surprise is actually real and pure. ⸝⸝ It's still noticeable though subtle tho! Aglaea will be extra mindful of you and will no doubt worry about your grades and your performance. Would help you study even if it takes time say less! ♡ Mydei

⸝⸝ Similarly to Phainon, seems like a jock but isn't too much of a jock once you get to know about him. I think it's pretty much just a first impression since he's physically well built and healthy. For someone with his looks, Mydei is a pretty quiet and calm seatmate, ones targeted by people who is just full on comical nonsense (Trailblazer for instance…. They're so stupid I love them).

⸝⸝ Seemingly messy appearance (that slightly loose collar and messily tied tie fix that rn Mydei i hate hastily tied tie and sometimes spends 5 minutes redoing it if I couldn't get it right sobs), but is actually very discipline and a pretty decent student. Also hc that he uses reading glasses.

⸝⸝ Bluddy is probably the first to arrive at class and is usually pretty punctual with a few exceptions being made. Definitely that one friend who sleeps early and wakes up early. Probably lets you copy his homework just so you can get off his ass.

⸝⸝ Excels at history, terrible at math, probably decent at chemistry??? Hear me out though, he's terrible at math and physics but he's interested in them so it's kind of a party pooper LAMFAO (self projecting). Mydei doesn't hate it, he probably just doesn't understand it.

⸝⸝ Those type of guys that people are scared of because of his appearance, but is actually good with juniors. He helps them with studying and getting the subject's concept wrapped around their head and somehow patient for a man that doesn't look like he has patience at all.

⸝⸝ When Mydei pins on you, he won't look nor act THAT much different around you. If you're a much more comical or hilarious kind of person, he endures and tolerates you more. He will offer more lending hands though; for instance, explaining things you don't understand more, willingly tutors you, sneaks gifts into your desk or locker and then softly denies it when questioned (you're not slick bro.)

⸝⸝ Mydei doesn't announce it if you two are dating, rather, his friends found out on their own by the slight flush on his face when he's around you and the way his fierce eyes seemed to simmer down a little when you're around.

♡ Castorice

⸝⸝ SUPER quiet and probably finds it hard to communicate all the time. The reason people know her is mostly because she's apart of the Student Council, but that aside, she's also super kind and nice!

⸝⸝ Hangs around Aglaea a lot and acts as her 'assistant' or similar. Also a teacher's pet except on the more mellow side and one that even the meanest of the mean doesn't have the heart to mock.

⸝⸝ She probably could be vice president.. But that's just a rough gut and because I see her as one. Also reprimands her classmates and other students to be mindful of their attire and attitude.

⸝⸝ Generally good at any subjects given, but I hc that Castorice really likes art and music classes. The atmosphere is quieter and much more peaceful that even her mind could rest a little. Definitely joins clubs like sewing club.

⸝⸝ Sometimes sleeps on recess because I see her as those super-tired looking type of people who can doze off while standing but refrains on doing so in classes. Due to this, probably picks the seat closer to the window to hide away from the lights at the center of the class.

⸝⸝ When Castorice pins on you, she will subtly get super shy around you. Sometimes stutters on her speech and is extra polite at you much to the awkwardness. Be prepared for cuteness overload!!

⸝⸝ Castorice definitely makes things for you! A small crochet plush, flower crowns, or some fake flowers that reminds her of you. Surfs into flower language to express her affection to you by making said flowers for you!

⸝⸝ Castorice would reluctantly yet shyly declares her love for you one random evening, and the rest of the Chyrsos Heir is totally NOT spying at you two from behind some bushes. ♡ Anaxa

⸝⸝ This man is canonically a professor according to the in-game lore what else do I need to say??

⸝⸝ That one smart kid who's super snarky and sarcastic. If you think Mydei is pretty sarcastic for someone, then behold Anaxagoras and his sharp yet elegant tongue that totally does not remind me of a certain doctor.

⸝⸝ He definitely no doubt enjoys subjects science related. Chemistry, physics, biology, name it. Yet nobody really dares to approach him and ask him to be their lab partner due to, again, the aura that surrounds him. You feel like you're shrinking per second you stand next to him if you don't know anything about him. Also hc that he enjoys scientific debates.

⸝⸝ He probably goes overseas to attend science olympics like a lot, and obviously comes back with victory by his side. He's probably academic rivals with Aglaea haha. I can just see them competing for the school's 1st place.

⸝⸝ Anaxa gets avoided by plenty people because of his personality, but he doesn't pay any mind nor does he care about it. After all, his only interest currently is knowledge, isn't it..?

⸝⸝ Well that's until you, who doesn't seem to be that much avoidant of him, came along to his life. Anaxa is that one person that goes deep into denial when he has feelings for someone. "NO. WDYM I HAVE FEELINGS FOR THEM. FUCK."

⸝⸝ The rest of the Chrysos Heir found out about this when one random day, Anaxa suddenly came up to Hyacine and started asking her questions related to feelings that are leaning a little bit tooooo much on the romantic side (much to his dismay and denial). Even with his denial, he found himself coming up to the pink haired girl and asking her about this… Very foreign feeling of what she described as "butterflies fluttering in his stomach" and a suspiciously big grin on her face.

⸝⸝ Like Phainon, Anaxa doesn't escape the constant teasing from the Chrysos Heir for this, mainly Aglaea. She will devilishly giggle into her fingertips and make subtle jabs at him when she talks to you; "[name], do you have just any idea how breathtaking you are?" while giving Anaxa looks to which he responded with not only a glare but a suspiciously burning pair of ear tips <3

© fleuriion ― please refrain from ; plagiarizing, ai usage, repost without credits ― positive interactions are always welcome!

[bisexualiteaa]

Omg! You should totally do one where he’s sexually frustrated. And the reader (female), teases him until he breaks! And when he does they get down to business BIG time if you know what i mean lol. But even when they do start to fuck the reader doesn’t listen to all his demands, making it more spicy once silco finally gets the reader exactly how he wants her.

On edge

AN: Thank you so much for this request!! I loved the idea so much and literally had so much fun writing this! Apologies that it took a few days, I again just wanted to make sure it was good and to what you asked! ♥️ I hope you enjoy and that I’ve done your ask justice! 🥺🫶

CW: no use of y/n, reader has hair, reader is AFAB, female anatomy, MDNI, cursing, teasing, heavy brät/brät tämer themes, Silco is t0uch deprived, r0ugh seggs, unprotected seggs, bïting, cream 🥧, slight dëgradation, p0rn w/o plot, äftercare, possible spelling/grammar errors

Also I’m not sure why, but as I was writing I was listening to this song and I just feel like it fits SO well! So listen along while you read if you’d like!

His forehead head sat in his hand as you entered his office, elbow leaned against the desk as his other hand held a glass, amber liquid and two ice cubes swirling around inside the ornate rocks glass. Whiskey, he only drank on the rougher days anymore, and judging by the cigar that sat in the ash tray on his desk, smoke emanating from it, told you he was having a day. You on the other hand, were in a different sort of mood, a bubbly, perhaps more mischievous mood. You weren’t quite sure what brought it about, whether it was your confidence just hitting a new high today, or what but you could tell from the sassy sway to your hips as you shut the door carefully behind you. Something you didn’t realize had in fact been noticed by him, he was just doing a very good job at hiding it.

“Rough day?” You asked innocently, sauntering over to his side as you stood beside him. The scent of your perfume filled his nose the moment you moved closer, leaving him to inhale its intoxicating scent. Sometimes he wondered if you mixed a sort of drug into it with the way he craved its familiarity, wishing to smell it on his sheets, his jacket. When he did, it drove him wild, the transfer of it from just a simple hug was enough to leave him clutching the large jacket and taking a whiff on occasion when no one was looking or when he was alone in his office. Each time he did, he could feel his cock twitch with excitement as his mind would then drift to you. Sinful thoughts filling his mind of how good you would look splayed against his sheets beneath him, or how you would look bent over his desk as he ravaged you. Shimmer had nowhere near the effects that you had on him, it was almost impressive as much as it was sad. How long had it been that the simple scent of your perfume could cause him to go mad? Or for your fleeting touches to leave him with such carnal need? He couldn’t remember, but you made him feel young again in that sense.

“Quite” he replied plainly, placing the glass down on the desk, trading it for his cigar that had already been halfway smoked. You watched as he took a long drag of it before leaning back and releasing the smoke in an exhale upwards, ensuring he wouldn’t breathe it into your face. You loved the scent of his cigars, something about the tobacco mixed with smoke and his own personal scent left you enjoying being around him as he smoked more than you probably should have. There was something just so alluring about it. “Every time I turn around it feels as if something has fallen apart and is in need of my attention” he finally explained, leaving you to look upon him sympathetically. The lines of stress etched into his forehead and brow spoke truth of this, the bags beginning to accumulate beneath his eyes only further evidence to his unrest. Your hand came to rest against his thigh, rubbing soothing circles along his skin. Something you’d done in the hopes it would help him calm down a little, but you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t have ulterior motives behind it.

You felt his body tense for a moment from the soft touch, looking down at your hand that rested against his mid thigh. It was so close, so close yet so far. He wondered how it would look in your small, dainty hands, how good it would feel. He turned his head and shifted a little to try and erase the thought from his mind, but even as you removed your hand, its heat lingered on the spot like a painful reminder. “Zaun looks to their leader for guidance and aid, but even a leader deserves rest” you said, smoothing your hands along his jacket, flattening any wrinkles that formed from his previously hunched over position. You were bent over as you did, the shirt you were wearing giving him direct sight to your cleavage as your perfume continued to intoxicate him. Did you have any idea the things you were doing to him? Surely you had to, you couldn’t be so oblivious to your effect on him, could you? He was ashamed of the hold you had on him, how weak you made him from just a simple touch. He tried his best to hide it, and hide it well, but as you stood here before him he knew today may very well be the day he reaches his breaking point. “I’m granted no rest when someone walks through my door just about every hour” he replied, making you hum as you stood back up, watching his eyes trail you as you walked back over to the door. He felt himself release a breath he had no idea he’d been holding in as you put a slight distance between you. “Then lock it” you said with a cute little grin, the bolt turning in the door with an audible click before you turned back around, watching him clutch the cigar between his fingers with a fierce grip. His eyes bored into you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, no one has ever looked at you like that, with such fire in their eyes, with such desire. It made your stomach twist in knots. “No one can bother you if they can’t get in” you finished before returning to his side, this time watching as you boldly sat on an empty corner of his desk.

You couldn’t quite read the look on his face as you did, but you had noticed the way his eyes would flit up and down your body when he thought you weren’t looking. He took in the way your pencil skirt seemed to raise past your mid thigh as you sat down, giving him a flash of your panties from beneath it when you would go to cross your legs, leaving him incredibly hard beneath his pants. You were toying with him, you had to be. There was no way you were doing this all unknowing of the effects you had on him. Pathetically, he was falling for it, and he hated that he was. He caught the glimpse of a grin resting on your sweet, plump lips as your downcast gaze trailed him up and down, waiting for a response. You were teasing him on purpose. “You play with fire” he stated, making you giggle. “I know, I can’t help myself. I like the possibilities of being burnt” you answered confidently, your foot dragging up and down his calf affectionately. Janna almighty you’ll be the death of him, but if that were to be the case, what a hell of a way to go.

You watched him as he stood before you, hands planting on either side of your thighs as his face hovered close to yours. “You think you’re so clever? Waltzing in here with that short little skirt, teasing me and think I wouldn’t notice?” He asked, making you hum as your grin only stretched wider. “Seemed to be working just fine, was it not?” You asked in reply, feeling as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart to allow him a place to stand between before pulling you to the edge of his desk where your hips met his. “You tell me, what do you think?” he replied, leaving you to gasp softly as you felt him pulse and twitch against your heat. “I think I have you wrapped around my little finger” you boldly claimed, your fingers walking up along his jacket before your arms looped around his neck, pulling yourself even closer to him but never fully closing the distance. “You think so?” He asked in response, making you giggle. That same smug grin rested on your lips as electricity thrummed between you, your faces mere centimeters apart, waiting to see if he would cave in. Your gaze flit to his lips with heavy lids, enjoying the mental turmoil you were putting him through as he fought caving in immediately. “You want me so bad? Come get me” you whispered, your breath ghosting across his lips as they hovered so very close to his own. He needed you in ways he couldn’t even begin to try and explain.

So he caved.

You felt his hand come to rest on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you even closer, finally closing the distance between you as his lips captured yours. The kiss was fiery, passionate and messy, a gravely groan leaving him into it. You could feel the rumble in his chest from it, paired with the way his lips danced against your own told you how long he’d been wanting this, how much he’d been needing this. Needing you. You couldn’t help the smile that stretched to your lips into it, thinking of all the ways that you could push his limits. Your hand smoothed down his chest, toying with his tie as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, an effort to push the kiss further into something more intimate. You giggled as you denied him, earning an impatient groan in response as his free hand groped your ass roughly, making you moan. The moment you did, he took his chance, his tongue exploring you as it tangled with your own in a messy clash of teeth, tongue and lips. It had you dizzy.

When he pulled back he looked you over, not caring this time if you laid witness to it or not. He took the moment to take in how your chest heaved with each labored breath, how your cheeks were flushed, lips shining with swapped saliva. “Gonna keep staring at me? Or you gonna do something about that problem of yours?” You asked with a cocky grin, making him chuckle darkly. “Oh it will be fixed, but it won’t be me fixing it” he said, yanking on your hair to pull your head back, earning a pathetic whine from you as it made you look up at him, finding yourself unable to bite back in this position. “You caused it, you fix it” he ordered, making you moan as he rolled his hips against your own, brushing his painfully hard cock against your panty clad cunt, allotting you some much needed friction and stimulation. All you could do was look up at him, excitement and anticipation filling your gaze leaving him to chuckle. “No witty come back to that? I give you the smallest taste of how good I can make you feel and you give up just like that, hmm?” He asked smuggly, making your face grow hot with defeat before he let up on his grip in your hair. “Strip” he commanded, making you stand up and work at untucking your shirt before unbuttoning it slowly. He watched as every button came undone, more of your gorgeous body was revealed to him, his eyes raking over your curves. The fabric soon dropped to the floor haphazardly next to his desk, to be forgotten about until later when it would be needed again. Next was your bra. His eyes were trained on you as he watched you unhook the backing, allowing it to slide down your arms and join your shirt in a growing pile. Your nipples had hardened from the temperature change, the exposure to the air and from the excitement coursing through you in anticipation of what was to come next. Then came your skirt, its simple button and zipper being undone allowing it to drop to the floor and pool around your feet with ease, earning a groan from him at the sight of you nearly naked before him. You hooked your thumbs into the sides of your panties, working them down from your hips before they fell to your ankles, leaving you to kick them off to the side with rest of the pile. You watched with much intrigue and entertainment as he seemed to twitch with anticipation and need for you, making you giggle.

“How long has it been?” You asked curiously, a cocky grin on your lips and confidence in your tone as you looked at him, looping your arms around his neck. There it was again, your perfume, overwhelming his senses. “I beg your pardon?” He asked, brows furrowed and sending a rather defensive look your way. “How long has it been?” You asked again, watching as he looked you up and down. “Since?” He asked in reply, not seeming to understand what you were hinting at, or maybe he preferred you just spit it out. “Since you had sex. Can tell by the tension in your shoulders and the way you practically moan with every touch that it’s been a while” you pointed out playfully, making him a little angry that you managed to get beneath his surface and figure him out so well. “You best be careful of that mouth of yours. My kindness, even with you, has its limits” he responded, making you hum. “Then go ahead, be mean. I’m a big girl, I can take it” you challenged making him walk closer to you, inching you towards the edge of his desk. “You want me to be mean, do you?” He asked, the rasp of his voice lowering to a much deeper tone, a crooked smile resting on his lips. He couldn’t lie, the slight tinge of fear resting in your eyes when you felt your back hit his desk, telling you there was nowhere left to go, awakened something dark within him. Something carnal, animalistic. You looked like nothing more than helpless, vulnerable prey, and he was about to eat you alive. You couldn’t deny the predatory look in his eyes certainly worked wonders on you in return. “Don’t look so concerned…” he started, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek gently before leaning in close, leaving his lips just millimeters from yours.

“I’m about to make your day” he finished, his words mixed with the feel of his breath ghosting your lips so closely send a shiver through you in excitement.

It wasn’t long before his pants were around his ankles, thrusting his cock balls deep into your soaked cunt. Your shared panting and moans, paired with the creaking and screeching of the poor desk beneath you that had been slowly inching its way across the floor with each thrust, filled the room. Should anyone walk past his office, there would be no mistaking what was happening just behind the door. Though you supposed your moans could have likely alerted all of Zaun at this rate, with your first orgasm of the night already past you, it’d be a miracle if no one could hear you. Your head was tilted back as he drilled into you, gripping your hips with a bruising pressure as your arms looped around his neck for leverage. You watched as he looked down to the space where your bodies were connected, watching his length disappeared inside of you with ease. He couldn’t help but to notice the little white ring that rested at the base of his length from your previous orgasm as the sound of his hips smacking roughly against your ass filled the room. “Fuck! Oh gods, yes!” You moaned, making him grin. “How long has it been?” He asked, looking to you, waiting for a response from you but your pleasure-idled mind was so foggy you could hardly understand what he was asking you. “Since? Oh fuck! Right there!!” You replied the best you could, tilting your head back again, leaving your tits just inches from his face as your back arched upwards towards him. “Since someone fucked you right. Since someone made you feel this good” he finished, making you whine as his hand grabbed your jaw, squishing your cheeks as he forced you to look back up at him. The cute pout that rested on your face, occasionally morphing into ones of pleasure each time his tip bullied your cervix, had him rutting into you harder. “Never! Not ‘til you- oh!” You managed, making him chuckle as he relinquished you from his grip. “Pathetic. You put up all that fuss, do all that teasing and yet I still manage to get you right where I want you” he said through grunts of pleasure, his neatly slicked back hair slightly falling against his forehead that had a thin sheen of sweat. “Feels so good! Oh gods, Silco!” You moan pathetically, knowing he was exactly right but you didn’t care. You’d spend every night here like this with him if he made you feel this good every time.

You felt as that familiar sensation in your lower belly began to take root again as his lips captured your own in a messy but passionate kiss, your moans raising in pitch and growing closer together a clear sign that you were close. As if on que, his fingers traveled between your bodies, coming to rub your clit to give you that added bit of friction you so desperately needed. You gasped before moving your hips against his and his fingers, meeting his merciless thrusts and fucking yourself on his fingers. “You’re right where you belong. Beneath me like this, cumming on my cock as I please you like no one else ever will” he said, rubbing your clit faster to make up for the way his thrusts were beginning to lose rhythm. You were so close to finally falling over the precipice, your body feeling as if it were catching on fire as your every nerve ending lit up. His words were what sent you there. “You’re mine” he growled, biting into your shoulder as you came together, his bite sending you toppling over the edge into pure bliss, while your walls squeezed him tight, milking him of everything he’d been holding in for far too long. Your body twitched and spasmed with the intensity of your second orgasm of the night, a pleased hum leaving you as you felt him cum inside of you, throbbing repeatedly as he emptied everything into you.

You both sat there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms together, fighting to catch your breath. You watched him smooth his hair back with his hand, doing his best to get it out of his face and back to how it was originally styled, or at least the closest he could get it. You smiled as he kissed you softly, leaving you to cup his dance gently in your hands. “Are you alright?” He asked into it, checking to make sure he hadn’t overdone it and hurt you. You gave a hum then a giggle. “I feel wonderful” you said with a bubbly grin, making him chuckle as he continued to kiss you, not wishing to leave your arms or the taste of your sweet lips just yet. “Good, as do I” he replied, making you grin even wider. “Fuck yes you do” you said, playfully yet truthfully, making you both laugh. “Oh is that so? Have I ruined anyone else for you?” He asked, the hint of possessiveness in his tone as his lips traced down your neck. “You might have. Not that I care to find out, you said it yourself; this is exactly where I belong, and it’s exactly where I intend to stay” you said, your head tilted a little to grant him better access to your sensitive skin. You heard him groan next to your ear as his lips lingered upon all your most sensitive spots.

What caught you by absolute surprise was the sensation of him throbbing within you, twitching to life again from inside of you. You gave a gasp with both intrigue and excitement as he looked to you with a grin. Apparently your words had let the monster out, because stay there you would for nearly the rest of the night, getting lost in one another without a care for how sore you’d be tomorrow. It was well worth it when you were with him.

[smokescreenimusprime]

not my usual but it was too perfect to pass up and the idea was NOT leaving my head. Decided to write a snippet for @keferon's IMMACULATE Mecha Pilot Jazz AU, though apologies if the charactization is a lil funky, this is my first time writing either of these characters and double apologies for the undoubted slew of grammar and spelling errors

but that aside, I hope you enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Is It Self Sacrifice If It's Not Really You?

Despite the cacophany of the battlefield, Prowl's scream cut through it with with the ease of a freshly sharped blade through flesh and found it's home nestled into Jazz's ears.

He barely had a second to look up, hardly more than a glance, but it was all he needed to make out familiar white and black.

A Quintesson, one of the smaller but more freaky looking ones, was looming over his collapsed frame. He was pinned, his back to solid rocky walls and the Quint at his front, jamming it's tentacles into every crack of his armour they could.

He was putting up one hell of a fight, but something was wrong.

"PROWL!" he shouted, shifting his weight in preperation to bolt. "HOLD ON, I'M COMMIN-"

But the screech of the Quintesson he was currently grappling with forcefully stole his attention back, barely any warning given before it's gaping maw latched onto his mech's forearm.

It pulled, joints and plates creaking with the strain but still holding strong. It shook it's head and Jazz brought a hand up to brace against the outside of the monster, if only to stop the arm from being completely ripped out of the socket. He landed a few solid kick as it lifted him off the ground, but it's movements were still largey effortless, like his frame weighed as much as a tin can.

Prowl screamed again. This time it was louder.

Against all common (sane) sense, Jazz looked away from his enemy and toward Prowl

Some of his external plating was damaged, gouges in messy circle patterns with rivulets of blue energon sluggishly bleeding out. He seemed to be smoking too, thin curls of smoke wafting off his cables. His eyes were flickering wildly, something Jazz had grown to associate with too much damage and too little power.

All of the damage paled in comparison to where Jazz's focus was.

Now, Jazz didn't know how these guys had their mechs built, but they could hold up to some serious punishment. Their engineers seemed to keep an even more meticulous eye on any damage, and Prowler and the other's all had frames clealy meant to last.

But they were all still vulnerable at their cores.

And the Quintesson's tentacles, sparking with a terrifying yellow and red electricity, were pulling and prying right at the plating above that core.

It was starting to show some give too, a testimate to the true strength of the offending monster. Chest plating, no matter the make, didn't come off easily, intent to protect the most vulnerable parts of a pilot.

The electricity was already frying his frame, if it got a straight shot of that to his chest-

Jazz needed to do something.

Jazz needed to do something.

But what, what could he do, whatever it was it needed to be quick, he didn't have time to finish off this Quintesson, there wasn't time for finesse, he just needed to go to help to F I G H T -

Jazz readjusted the braced positioning of his legs, thanking for what was probably the thousandth time the engineers who'd made the adjustment to give him more flexibility and agility, and brought his free arm high above his head.

And brought it down.

His trapped arm creaked, the plating denting and squealing as the metal controted, sparks going flying and red error messages flashing in his vision.

He did it again.

And again.

And again.

He made sure to keep his blows aimed at preciscely where he knew it was weakest and made sure to push with his legs as hard as he could, swaying side to side and focing the joint to bend in ways it had never been meant to. His movements became a dance to the orchestra of cables snapping and metal ripping and electricity cracking and his arm b r e a k i n g , the dance growing faster and more determined the louder the music played.

It felt like eternity, and the phantom sensation was disorienting. There was no pain, only uncomfortable pressure that built up and up and up, perfectly in time with the warning messages he forcefully dismissed. It was far from pleasant, but it was nothing compared to the cold burning terrified angry fight flight save him running full blast in his brain.

And with one final crack akin to lightning, he was free.

It was the furthest thing from a clean break, and to his mild surprise it didn't break at the elbow but rather a bit above it. In the second of freefall he had, he couldn't help but admire the shredded stump and mourn how he knew Ratchet was going to have his head for all the extra work.

He hit the ground in a roll and popped up running, stumbling and nearly falling face first into alien dirt at the sudden uneven weight distribution but he simply let his partial fall carry him forward until he was sprinting full speed.

With his remaining hand he grabbed the Quintesson and pulled, not letting go until it wasn't tearing into Prowl's front and instead embedded several feet in the ground. He dashed, not giving it even a moment, standing tall in front of Prowl.

The Quint got back up, enraged screeches and chitters coming out of it's mouth.

"Back off," Jazz growled back.

The Quintesson attacked, and everything became the hyperaware blur combat always became.

Dodge, dodge, punch, dodge, kick, kick, punch, dodge, jump, kick jump-

One of it's tentacles latched right onto the open stump and set a wave of electricity in.

His mech's vision went bright white, sparks exploding out even inside his cockpit and the smell of burning metal filling his nose. All the protective insulation was made useless from the direct route into the mech's systems.

Jazz jerked his arm stump back and headbutted it.

He got a tentacle to the face for his troubles, grabbers squeezing and cracking the visor. He planted his feet, one on solid ground the other on the slack of the tentacle, and pulled as hard as he could.

A decent chunk of the face came left it, not deep enough to affect any systems or his vision anymore than it was already damaged, but enough that it certainly wasn't pretty.

He kept more distance after that. Wouldn't do any good for him or Prowler if he got fried too. But the Quintesson was desperate, like a cornered animal, grabbing and clawing at anything it could gets it's tentacles on. The same gouges Prowl had began to litter his own armour as it kept making grabs, and the beastie even managing to get a few more much briefer electrical surges in.

It was obvious only one of them was going to walk away from this fight, and Jazz was not going to let it be the Quint. Prowl would kill him if he did

Finally he managed to get in a lucky shot, albeit at the cost of his feet. The Quintesson tried to get in a bite like it friend had, only to be met with the full force of Jazz's feet pressing them apart.

The teeth and other horrors might've torn through his feet but dammit if it wasn't satisfying to hear the crack as its jaw snapped and the body went limp.

The battle was still going on around them, but it was starting to wind down. A trio of bots had even started attacking the one Jazz had left behind.

The immediate area was clear, and there were more than enough bots he could shout out to for backup if he needed it.

"Prowler, you okay?" he said, though he noticed his voice had a bit of static lacing it. Maybe getting his face ripped off did more damage than he thought, or it could be lingering damage from the electricity. "Sorry it took me so long to come getcha, talk, dark and bitey kept me a bit occupied."

He wiggled his stump with a chuckle, leaning in closer. Kneeling down was difficult with the leaking hydraulic fluid and Quintesson salivia making it hard to get a solid grip, but with the current state of his visor he didn't want to risk missing anything on Prowl. To his relief, despite the extensive denting and electrical burns, Prowl's chest was thankfully uncompromised. Hopefully his mech was insulated

The electricity seemed to have done a number on his connection to the head though, the eyes were still glitching wildly and his normally expressive face seemed stuck.

"J-Jazz..." Prowl stuttered, and Jazz found himself frowning. Maybe Prowl got a bit more banged up on the inside than he thought. "You- your-"

His eyes were flickering wildly about Jazz's mech, and he could practically hear his friend's battle computer crunching away.

"Ah, don't worry bout that," he rapping his mech's chest with a fist. "This old frame's gone through worse. Nothing delicate got smashed, and I've barely got a scratch on me. Ratchet'll have me right as rain before you know it, so don't worry your pretty little head one bit."

"Speaking of, I'm gonna go find 'im," he stood back up, looking around the battlefield. "The fight's pretty much over, and I'm not sure if it's a great idea for you to be moving after all that zappy nonsense. Just sit tight and-"

"No!"

Jazz startled a bit at the sudden shout, looking back down at Prowl. The other man's mech suddenly lunged up, sitting straight and looking at him with wide eyes.

"Prowler? Is somethin wrong?"

"I will contact Ratchet," he says in a rush. "A comm message will be more efficient than searching on foot, not to mention I'll be able to tell him what to prepare for,"

Jazz raised a brow.

"Go right ahead, Prowl," he chirped despite his suspicion. He was fairly certain Prowl was hiding something from him, but prying would just make him clamp down tighter.

Prowl didn't seem like the sort to hide things from medics but...

He sat his mech down and leaned back against the wall. "You don't mind if I wait with ya, do you?"

Just to be safe.

Despite his initial assumptions, Prowl actually seemed to relax at his suggestion.

"Not at all."